Review - The Hot Rock

Artist: Sleater-Kinney

There's nothing sophisticated or very political about Sleater-Kinney's appetizer of feminist defiance, "The Hot Rock." At best, this is neato, keen stuff -- like the penny loafers of punk rock. Corin Tucker can wail, but I don't think she's changing anybody's world -- except maybe film critic Ken Tucker's (same last name is coincidence).

It's hard not to draw a comparison here to labelmate Kathleen Hanna's latest reinvention of the badass female self, "Julie Ruin." Now there's a conundrum that'll draw you into a tangled web of female identity, varying shades of socialist thought and personal politics without rules. Sure, Sleater-Kinney blow off the major labels, but even Ani DiFranco can do that. Via "God is a Number," they're also rebels against the future, hitting the technophobic panic button eons too late to even be relevant. If machines are going to rise up and eat us, I hope they get Sleater-Kinney first.

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