Words and Guitar 2024: SPRINTS, Sleater-Kinney, and the Bush Tetras

It’s a new year, and it’s already off to quite a start. Indeed, a sad one in the world of music writing, with the news of the apparent demise of Pitchfork as we know it. Who knew GQ still existed, let alone would be the kind of magazine anyone would consider a good choice for absorbing Pitchfork? Much has been said about how much we have all loved, hated, tried (and failed) to ignore, and ultimately relied on Pitchfork for more than 20 years as readers. Many of the OGs attended Pitchfork Festivals as well; don’t think GQ-fork Fest would be quite the same.

But as OG favorite podcaster Stephen Hyden said during the Indiecast discussion, even if Pitchfork is likely going away, music writing is not.  So, your OGs are here to serve and step into the void. Ready to accept the challenge, we begin 2024 with volume and guitars. We start with a ripping debut album from a Dublin post-punk band called SPRINTS, a “not as bad as we thought it would be” record from stalwarts Sleater-Kinney, and a revisit of a mid-90s record from even more veteran stalwarts the Bush Tetras. It’s a rocking trio of records, and we hope it sets the stage for an energetic 2024, and one where you can rely on the 6OGs to bring you the best in music writing.

New album: Letter to Self by SPRINTS. In 2023, the biggest news about Irish punk-inspired music came from artists at the end. In the case of Shane MacGowan, it was the sad but hardly-unexpected literal end of a life and career lived hard that produced entertaining, innovative, and often soul-searing music, served with a bottle, or three, of whiskey and a glass, or three, of beer (see OG Brian’s tribute to Shane here). In the case of U2, it was not a literal end but a “not from the Onion”-level news that brings to an end their last shreds of dignity. Specifically, we learned they would be opening a bizarre and white elephant-defining venue called Sphere (no “the;” just Sphere) in Las Vegas. Maybe they’ve managed to make it less absurd than it originally sounded, but not by much. But coming after recent years dominated by the likes of new and urgent bands like Fontaines DC and The Murder Capital, 2023 was deflating when it came to Irish music (and that doesn’t even count Sinead O’Connor).

Happily, if SPRINTS is any indicator, we can look for a new jolt in 2024. SPRINTS formed in 2019, but this is their debut. And although they feel mostly assured of their sound, they are a band with a lot of questions. The combination of the two makes for a (mostly) compelling listen.

It appropriately begins with “Ticking,” which feels like the band’s definition, or at least an encapsulation of the main questions it’s trying to answer. Opening with several rounds of kick drum beats, followed by an anthemic guitar riff, singer Karla Chubb balances between declaring and singing the first range of questions: “Maybe I should do it better/Maybe I should try it harder/Maybe I should check the weather/Maybe I should bring a sweater/Maybe I should cut my hair off.” Then more pointedly, she wonders, “Am I alive? And I don’t know if I’m livin’ or I’m just livin’ here?”

The band certainly hopes she’s livin’, or if nothing else, is trying to convince her. From a steady simmer under the initial verse/questions, the band kicks in midway through the track with a ferocious drive that never really lets up. It’s the kind of build and explosion that makes you sit up and pay attention, in a way that befits a band that spells its name in ALL CAPS.

While ferocious to be sure, the track quality is up and down. Track 2, “Heavy,” feels like an extension of the opener, built around the line “Do you ever feel like the room is heavy?” The music doesn’t necessarily go anywhere new, and you feel like the band is trying to settle into the volume and the balance they need to find to keep it all together.

“Cathedral” again centers on the intensity combined with uncertainty of Karla Chubbs, surrounded by a nearly tribal drum sound and driving guitar and bass, as she speaks to her mother, her father, and perhaps her priest or God, asking a range of questions about how she’s living: “Maybe I’m living/with eyes closed shut/Maybe I’m giving/Maybe not enough/Maybe that’s the beauty/Maybe that’s the pain/Maybe living is easy/Maybe dying’s the same.” At that point, the band completely just erupts in fury and drive, building around the essential questions, “Is anybody happy? Can anybody be happy?”

As is true with nearly all debuts, SPRINTS is a band still trying to find its way through its sound, and its existential questions, while clearly channeling some bands of yore as well as contemporaries. You could easily mistake “Shaking Their Hands” for a Hole cover; at times, I could almost hear Courtney Love under the guitar build and chorus reminding us to go on and take anything. My favorite track on the album, “Literary Mind,” reminds you of a just slightly older band from Australia, Cable Ties, which is also finding its stride (see my review of their 2020 release here).  And to some degree, it almost feels like a response to “Boys in the Better Land,” perhaps the best track that the aforementioned Fontaines DC has ever produced. Instead of a heroine drawn outside of herself, this one is fully confident in herself.

The mid-record tracks like “Adore Adore Adore,” “Shadow of a Doubt” and “Can’t Get Enough of It” are solid, but the music slows just a tad, the strong structures begin to get a bit repetitive, and the lyrics don’t quite take you to that nexus of finding your way through questions riding a ferocious band. The lyrics are more descriptive and reflective than searching, and it is the search that keeps you on the edge of your seat in their best tracks. The closing/title track follows the same structural pattern but, intriguingly, centers on an opening lyrical declaration: “But I am alive.” Karla Chubbs has many more questions than answers, but it’s reassuring when she finds her way to this recognition, if only to give us hope for a follow-up record.

The album closes with that title track, but my sense is that the more apt title and album closer would have been the penultimate track, “Up and Comer,” which boasts an opening riff that feels stolen from Danzig, with lyrics and vocals that take you to the harder tracks that Porridge Radio have produced. Even if the band is not fully formed and has many more questions to find its way through, it’s clear SPRINTS is definitely an up and comer. Only time will tell if they end up at Sphere someday. (Brad)      

Album from an upcoming/recent show: Little Rope by Sleater-Kinney.  They call it “Dry January.”  The idea is that you are encouraged (expected?) to make up for all the excesses of the holiday season by abstaining from alcohol for 30 days following the start of the new year.  (Personally, I say bullshit to this social media-inspired guilt complex.  Life is difficult enough.  If you’re a grown-ass adult, and you have neither a problem with substance use nor specific health concerns, maybe take a day or two after New Year’s to recover and then return to living your life in moderation as you see fit.  End of tangent.) 

The phrase “Dry January” could also apply to the album release schedule – as usual, there ain’t a lot out there that’s interesting right now.  The new Green Day?  Dreck.  21 Savage or Nicki Minaj?  Not for me.  SPRINTS are an interesting band that Brad has well-covered, and I should probably care more about glass beach than I actually do (which is to say, at this point, not at all).  So with a dearth of appealing options, and after years of letdowns, I’m checking out the latest release by Sleater-Kinney, the legendary band from Olympia, Washington.  And I’m thrilled to report that the album is… not bad.

Sadly for Sleater-Kinney, “not bad” is an accomplishment in 2024.  2005’s wonderful album The Woods marked the end of a stellar run.  After a 10-year hiatus, they reunited on 2015’s excellent No Cities to Love, proving they still had the chops to make vital music.  The band, however, returned four years later with the utterly confounding The Center Won’t Hold, a St. Vincent-produced album that was more synth-pop than riot-grrrl.  Back in ’96, Corin Tucker, Carrie Brownstein and Janet Weiss wanted to be your Joey Ramone; in 2019 they wanted to be your Harry Styles.  Weiss left the band soon after, and Sleater-Kinney (now just Tucker and Brownstein) released Path of Wellness in 2021.  While Path of Wellness largely eschewed the synth-pop of the previous album, it overcorrected in the opposite direction.  Instead of boasting the fury and manic energy of Dig Me Out or Call the Doctor, Path of Wellness was heavy, plodding, downbeat, and depressing.

Little Rope manages to split the difference between classic Sleater-Kinney and new Sleater-Kinney.  The single “Untidy Creature” – which happens to close the album – maintains the heavy bass from Path of Wellness, but incorporates a catchy guitar riff and an improved mid-tempo beat, with the band still clearly figuring things out post-Weiss.  The inclusion of piano in a prominent break in the song feels less like a grab at pop relevance than an acknowledgement of maturity.  The album opens with another single, “Hell,” which starts off with some worrying Center Won’t Hold vibes, but after about 50 seconds, the guitars kick in and give us a classic Sleater-Kinney sound, which continues on the next song, “Needlessly Wild.” 

Little Rope takes a dip on the next two songs.  “Say it Like You Mean It” – the third single – sounds like an audition tape to be the opener on the next boygenius mega-tour, while “Hunt You Down” is a skippable dance-punk track a la Franz Ferdinand.  “Small Finds,” “Don’t Feel Right,” and “Six Mistakes” are bangers in the mold of classic Sleater-Kinney, with killer guitar hooks powered by drumming that approximates what Weiss brought to the band.  “Crusader” feels like the flip side to “Hell” – it starts off promising, almost like an older, slightly toned down Sleater-Kinney, but then mixes in the pop and dance-punk that just doesn’t work.  “Dress Yourself” is a downer that sounds like a leftover from the Path of Wellness sessions that they tried (unsuccessfully) to perk up with synths and electronic beats.

After a couple of very misguided efforts over the past five years, Little Rope at least shows that Sleater-Kinney still have an idea of what they do well.  Of course, it would be silly to expect Tucker and Brownstein to release every new album as Dig Me Out Part 9, 10, or 11 (note to the aforementioned Green Day – please stop; you’re not bored teens cranking it in suburbia anymore).  And I respect their efforts to experiment with their sound.  Even moreso, I respect that maybe they recognized they swung too far in one direction, and then in another, and are continuing to incorporate new ideas into their established format. 

So while Little Rope is hit and miss, maybe it’s a sign of a band in progress, figuring out how they will continue to evolve.  And maybe Dry January, at least when it comes to album releases, is a good thing.  Otherwise I might not have paid as much attention to Little Rope.  It will be interesting to see how these new songs translate live, when Sleater-Kinney plays The Anthem in DC on March 12. (Brian)

Album being rediscovered (at least 10 years old): Beauty Lies by Bush Tetras. Sometimes my musical experiences as a young person and an old guy intersect.  As a kid and a teen in the pre-internet ‘80s, like everyone else, I discovered new music from the radio, magazines, and the cooler older kids in school.  As an old guy in ’24, the avenues for discovering new music are too numerous to mention, to the point of being almost overwhelming.  But as a parent with his youngest still navigating the fun but toxic world of youth sports, I often find myself driving long distances on weekend mornings.  And despite my previous posts demonstrating my love for the old days of traditional radio, these drives are almost always soundtracked by one or more of the many satellite radio channels that can bring me new songs, old songs I had forgotten, or old songs I was unfamiliar with but were new to me.  Such was the case on a recent Saturday morning as I was driving to BFE Maryland for a soccer tournament when the radio played “Too Many Creeps” by Bush Tetras.

Bush Tetras formed in New York in 1979, part of the No Wave scene, initially breaking up in 1983. And this is where my teen music experience comes in.  1988 was a monster year for me musically – It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, Surfer Rosa, If I Should Fall From Grace With God, Nothing’s Shocking, Straight Outta Compton, Fisherman’s Blues, Truth and Soul, By Any Means Necessary, and, along with Public Enemy’s masterpiece my favorite from this year, Daydream Nation.  Hearing “Teen Age Riot” led me to Sonic Youth’s brilliant 6^th album, which led me to learn more about the band and dive into their back catalog (EVOL and Sister still rule). 

What I didn’t do was explore in full the scene they came out of – No Wave, a short-lived downtown collection of New York bands with abrasive, experimental sounds, none of which had sustained prominence aside from Sonic Youth.  To be fair, we didn’t have Wikipedia, Allmusic, Bandcamp, etc, back then, which would have made it easier to discover a band like Bush Tetras that came up in the same scene as Sonic Youth but disbanded quickly and wasn’t heard from again for another 14 years.

Bush Tetras’ two mainstays are singer Cynthia Sley and guitarist Pat Place.  The band’s rhythm section has rotated over the years – the original lineup included bassist Laura Kennedy and drummer Dee Pop, while the current version includes Cait O’Riordan of The Pogues on bass and Steve Shelley of Sonic Youth on drums, with numerous changes in between.  The original lineup released a handful of singles and Eps from 1980-1983, the most notable of which being the aforementioned “Too Many Creeps,” but didn’t release a proper album until the band reformed to record 1997’s Beauty Lies.

Like a lot of other No Wave bands, the words “angular” and “jagged” were used to describe the Bush Tetras’ sound, but early songs like “Too Many Creeps” and “Can’t Be Funky” featured funk rhythms that separated the band from their peers.  Beauty Lies maintains the aggressiveness of their early singles while adding some polish to the band’s art-rock posture.  Album opener “Mr. Love Song” kicks things off with distorted guitar, heavy bass, and just a hint of cowbell.  “Page 18” has a sinister tone reminiscent of the best of the Pixies, and Sley’s voice vacillates from talk-singing to rage-shouting.  In “Dirty Little Secret,” Sley is almost taunting, and Place’s guitar work would sound right at home, appropriately, next to Dirty-era Sonic Youth. 

If any of the songs on this album could have made their way onto a ‘90s alt-rock radio playlist, it would have either been the title track, “Silver Chain,” or “Color Green.”  Of course, none of them did.  Bush Tetras also show a bit of a sense of humor on this album – the one slow song is called “The Ballad” while “Satan is a Bummer” is fairly straightforward with even more cowbell.  Funk is most pronounced on “Find a Lie,” in which Sley’s voice also displays the most range, but she is at her fiercest on “Basement Babies.”  The album closes with two versions of “World (I Really Have To Go Now)” – the original version followed by a longer instrumental dub version, with the latter being interesting but arguably not necessary.

Beauty Lies came and went in 1997 without much notice, certainly not by me.  ’97 had its share of notable releases – OK Computer, The Lonesome Crowded West, Brighten the Corners, Life After Death, Time Out of Mind, Perfect From Now On, Strangers Almanac, Dig Me Out.  I’m not trying to argue that Beauty Lies belongs among the best releases of the year.  But it’s a quality album by a band that has never gotten its proper due. 

Given some of the bands that were getting airplay at the time (Third Eye Blind?  Chumbawamba?) Bush Tetras could have gotten a little love from the record-buying public or, more accurately, the music industry.  Sley’s talking/singing/screaming style combines elements of Sonic Youth’s Kim Gordon and Pylon’s Vanessa Briscoe-Hay, and Place’s guitar playing sustains the energy of each song while maintaining hints of the noise-rock scene that the band started in.  It’s a shame that Bush Tetras never earned more than a cult following, if that, and I’m a little embarrassed that it took 35 years and an early morning drive to a soccer field in outer Ellicott City for me to discover this band and explore their catalog. (Brian)