Sleater-Kinney / Dead Meadow at the Beachland Ballroom

Friday 17^th June 2005.

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What a night. Two three-piece bands and two huge, perfect walls of sound. Dead Meadow was always going to provide the perfect stage-setting segue into the Led Zeppisms of “The Woods.” They have that hippy stoner vibe for sure but it definitely evolves into a groove rather than a dirge. The muppetry of all three players keeps things churning, while it is quite often the bass that defines the song and gets your hips shaking. This is at times reminiscent of BRMC, with those JMC/MBV guitars over the top (it’s BOGOF day on acronyms at the namedropping store, by the way…) but I guess I’m also just charmed by the fact that two of them look like my younger brother during the summer where I paid him not to get a haircut. Anyway…

If S-K’s latest album is the sound of a band upping the ante, then the live version cranks it up even further. Damn, show me another band that sounds this fresh after seven records? And was their back catalogue always this meaty? From the showbiz entrance to the raging encore, they are simply dazzling. It’s fair to say that—with the possible exception of Mogwai—I usually end up fancying at least one member of bands whose shows I enjoy, but I defy anyone to find me a more kissable mouth than Carrie Brownstein’s. The way she spits out the words of “Modern Girl” and, explosively, “Entertain” make her one of the most underrated vocalists around right now, while her ability to wring enormous crunching chords and soulful licks out of her guitar puts her playing on a par with the stage-flooding presence of someone like Jack White. But to single her out perhaps downplays the sheer cohesiveness of Sleater-Kinney. All three ladies are so attuned to one another it’s hard to see where one ends and another begins.

The jam session in the middle of “Let’s Call It Love” is a case in point. Rather than being a self indulgent padding section, this is the crux of the new improved S-K. The only frills on stage are on Corin’s party top and yet the showmanship is there for all to see. It’s not the flaccid rock star antics of the minimally talented but the sight of a band reaching their potential, far surpassing the “girls can rock too” tag and, quite simply, rocking my heart into my mouth. A girl next to me screams, “I’ve never loved you more than I love you now.” Quite.

After playing the new album in its entirety, they return for what amounts to mini Greatest Hits set. On. Fire. The drum roll meltdown at the end of what turns out to be their penultimate number seems to bring them to a point of no return. Surely this is their grand finale? Not yet it isn’t, as from the ashes rises—what else?—“Dig Me Out.”

Prior to last night, I had been bemoaning the fact that I hadn’t seen a truly astonishing gig for a while. Now, as I write this with ringing in my ears and aches and pains all over from dancing (man, I need to get back into training), I am also reminded of why it is that I get so giddy over this whole music malarkey. When I want to see the best things in life, I tend to look close to home and to the people around me—wider stages seem so doom-ridden these days—but the simple fact of the existence of this band and the things they have achieved with this album forces you to believe that bigger and better things are possible. Sleater-Kinney are intelligent, serious, important and fun—frankly, thank God for them.