One-time punks Sleater-Kinney may have transformed themselves into rock'n'rollers for their new album, but these Riot Grrrls haven't lost their political edge, says Peter Crawley

NOBODY likes to be turned away from a sold-out concert. But when Corin Tucker couldn't gain access to a Jon Spencer Blues Explosion gig a few years ago, she had more reason to feel stung than most: Her own group was the support act.

"We were opening for Jon Spencer at this big show in LA," recalls Tucker from her home in Portland, Oregan, "and the guys who were working at the club were not even going to let us in - because they thought we were groupies. And it just made me really angry."

Her response defines trio Sleater-Kinney, which originally flared up out of the sparks of the mid-'90s Riot Grrrl scene in Seattle and Olympia. Sleater-Kinney have become synonymous with musical urgency, sexual politics and thrilling rage.

"We just want to say that we're not here to fuck the band," Tucker announced when they finally made it to the stage. "We are the band."

This is how Sleater-Kinney have come to set their agenda; with music and manifestos born in the moment, fuelled by resistance and anger.

Since 1994, when Tucker and her one-time lover Carrie Brownstein formed the group (they both share angular guitar and shrieking vocal duties; Janet Weiss later became their permanent drummer), Sleater-Kinney - the name comes from a local freeway ramp - have rarely had problems infiltrating the male-dominated world of rock. Rock critic Greil Marcus, an early champion, called them "the best band in the world", while a more cautious Time magazine merely labelled them "America's best rock band". And yet, as Tucker avows, sexism in rock persists.

"Yeah, unfortunately I think it does. I think there have been some strides that women have made and obviously there are some really amazing [ female] musicians within rock, but it's surprising that even with this record people are still, like, 'Woah! It's a girl band!' And so it's something that we still work against, and every little bit of difference that we can make is important."

Sleater-Kinney's new record, The Woods, is unlike any other they've recorded. For a start, there are guitar solos ("We always thought that guitar solos were really annoying and wanky"). There are also lengthy jams and improvisations (two songs were recorded in a single continuous take). And, for a finish, their influences read like a punk rock enemies list: Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Deep Purple, Jimi Hendrix. This sort of thing is tantamount to betrayal.

"We didn't know how fans would react to something that was a bit different," says Tucker. Brownstein, the most outspoken member of the group, has put it this way: "We are sick of people feeling they know who we are and what we're capable of. I remember thinking in the studio that I'd really love to make some of our fans kind of angry."

Tucker considers their feelings towards their fans. "I don't think it's a love-hate relationship," she says good-humouredly. "It's just that we don't want people to get too comfortable with who they think we are. Part of the tradition of music that we come from - punk rock - is about challenging the people that are watching and engaging them so that they're not just passive listeners."

After listening to the pummelling excitement of Entertain, the the compulsively listenable lead single from The Woods, it's obvious that Sleater-Kinney no longer consider punk nearly punk enough. "You come around looking 1984/You're such a bore," sings Brownstein in a scathing salvo aimed squarely at punk revivalists. "Nostalgia, well you're using it like a whore."

Similarly, Sleater-Kinney knew they were in need of reinvention. After 10 years together, in which the members held down day jobs, steadily released records on the defiantly uncommercial Kill Rock Stars label, and watched as the fortunes of former support acts The White Stripes and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs quickly eclipsed their own, Sleater-Kinney were on the brink of creative exhaustion.

Leaving their long-term label for Seattle's Sub Pop, they hooked up with neo-psychedelic producer David Fridmann (Mercury Rev and The Flaming Lips), ditched a slew of existing material and, when there were no more comforts left to rupture, began fraught recording sessions for The Woods in the wilderness of upstate New York.

"It was definitely difficult, in a lot of ways," says Tucker, who was frequently riled and provoked by the bandmates to make her vocals sound still more unhinged. "As a singer and as a writer I really don't like to be frustrated and, yeah, there definitely is a lot of provoking that goes on in practice. And that frustration and searching that was going on was part of us figuring out, do we really still have something that's interesting? Something that people will be willing to come and listen to?"

None of that uncertainty can be heard on the album, a record that may seem politically muted by their standards - smuggling its intent into dark nursery rhyme metaphors and seething Rollercoaster analogies - but which betrays an insurgency of spirit by pushing the volume needle ever further into the red.

"Coming off of One Beat" - their 2002 response to 9/11 and the Iraq War - "and having that be such a blatant political record, we just felt like we didn't want to redo that," says Tucker. "But there is a lot of political meaning on the record. As you said, it's much more about metaphor, but it's really mostly about the music and how loud and angry that is.

"Dave was just as angry as we were after the re-election of Bush. We all use music as an outlet for our feelings and that's something we all came to as teenagers. So it's a real rock'n'roll kind of experience."

It is also a seamless blend of personal and political response, with Tucker, now a mother, tightly singing, "How do you do it? This bitter and bloody world. Keep it together and shine for your family."

"These songs feels very urgent to me," she considers. "And they really come off live as displaying the kind of emotions that we keep hidden underneath the top layer while keeping it together in America.

"That's the thing about making a record. It's a journey to find something that becomes this little piece of music and it is always this strange odyssey. Your person and everything around you becomes a part of it."

Sleater-Kinney play Temple Bar Music Centre, Dublin on August 30th and Spring and Airbrake, Belfast, on August 31st. The Woods is out now on Sub Pop