I picked up Carrie Brownstein’s memoir because I love her work on Portlandia, one of the funniest shows on TV, rather than her musical work as one-third of punk band Sleater-Kinney.
Turns out the whole book is about Sleater-Kinney.
Well, sort of. Brownstein uses her experiences in Sleater-Kinney – a band I admire but don’t exactly love – to tell a broader story about feminism and music and finding a sense of belonging in performance.
She’s a good writer overall but a great writer about music: her descriptions of songs and songwriting and live performance are powerful and evocative, the book’s real strength.
Thoughtful and insightful.
Next: a global pandemic