Sleater-Kinney was well equipped to open doors in women's rock

Lesson 57 in the rock handbook: Always pack at least one extra guitar.

Call it a lesson learned on the way to becoming one of the best American rock bands of the last decade. The Portland, Ore., trio Sleater-Kinney - Carrie Brownstein, Corin Tucker and Janet Weiss - had been battling equipment problems all night at a June 1999 gig at the Chicago club Metro, and their concert ground to a standstill when Tucker's balky guitar finally died.

Some bands might've thrown a hissy fit and stalked off the stage; others might've cracked and been booed into oblivion. Instead, guitarist Carrie Brownstein picked up a book tossed by a fan and began to read. "Most rockers get underwear," Tucker cracked, "Carrie gets books."

The audience cackled appreciatively, Tucker's guitar got fixed, and the rock resumed. The encore was positively celebratory, a roaring version of "Dig Me Out" with guitars, drums and voices howling like they were tunneling out of a 10-foot snowdrift into the daylight. As the song wound down, Brownstein shimmied next to Tucker and briefly rested her chin on her band mate's shoulder. A tough night had turned into a triumph.

A few months later, Brownstein laughed when reminded of the meltdown.

"I was horrified, to be honest," she said. "There we were onstage not knowing what to do. In our mind's eye, we still think of ourselves at this one level that most people think we've surpassed. It's like, Oh, yeah, I suppose we could have a guitar tech on the road with us.' It wasn't until last year that I realized,I could buy more guitars!' I don't know if it has to do with coming from a relatively isolated place like Portland. Or if we don't think we're such a big band. We're going to have one extra guitar onstage from now on, all tuned up and ready to go, with its own strap. It takes a situation like this to make us realize, `Oh, I guess we could have a backup plan.'"

A backup plan wasn't necessary in 1994 when college roommates Tucker and Brownstein began recording songs in their bedroom in Olympia, Wash. Seven albums later, they have one of the most-respected legacies in independent rock. Though they never broke through to a mainstream audience, their albums sold steadily in the 80,000 range and they were an inspiration to countless bands.

"They might bristle at this, because they've heard this a million times, but the importance of what they've done for women in rock music is second to none," says Tony Kiewel, who signed the band to Sub Pop Records two years ago for what would be their final album, "The Woods." "They've opened a lot of doors for women. They've also shown that you can not only age gracefully, but evolve in surprising ways and achieve things beyond the obvious goal of pushing in new directions. They've excelled over an extended period at trying different things, and not a lot of bands have done that. Besides the Flaming Lips, I have a hard time thinking of other bands who have produced as much great music in various genres over the course of a long career."

Initially inspired by the riot grrrl movement, a loose coalition of female artists who advocated empowerment on a range of social, political and cultural issues, Tucker and Brownstein quickly evolved as songwriters. They named their bedroom band after the road on which they practiced in Olympia, and eventually enlisted a drummer but never bothered to add a bassist. The trio's second album, "Call the Doctor" (1996), emphatically stamped them as a ferocious rock band.

Corey Rusk, the founder of Touch and Go Records, says the record obliterated what should have been obvious decades before: the notion that there should be a separate standard for rock bands based on gender. "That album was amazing," he says. "It was exactly what I needed to hear that year, maybe because I wasn't hearing enough great rock music anywhere else."

The follow-up, "Dig Me Out" (1997), was even better. Part of the reason was the tension that played out in the lyrics. The distinct voices played off each other: Brownstein more reserved, bookish and deadpan; Tucker a human howitzer always on the brink of a wail. They would often swap lines or verses, or even sing against each other instead of harmonizing, as if engaged in an animated conversation or a quarrel. The effect mirrored their tumultuous personal relationship; Brownstein and Tucker were once lovers who had broken up before recording the album.

"It was definitely difficult," Brownstein said at the time of the album's release. "But musically, Corin and I always have been attracted to tension and friction - we like dissonance in our music. So our breaking up just sort of got sucked into the songwriting process. And we found that the music we make transcends any relationship we might otherwise have."

What really pushed the album to another level was the contribution of the band's newest member: drummer Janet Weiss, already a veteran of the Pacific Northwest indie-rock scene when she joined the band. "It was almost kind of scary how good she was," Tucker said a few years later. "We knew we'd gotten really lucky, and Carrie and I also knew we'd have to work hard as musicians just to keep up with her."

Weiss served not just as a tirelessly inventive rhythmic engine, but as a song doctor in the studio. "A song is rarely complete when Carrie and Corin come to practice," the drummer once explained. "We have to organize it, think of how it will start, where to take the midsection break, and I think that's where I help the most in coming up with arranging ideas. The approach is always that the first idea is not necessarily the best idea."

Those increasingly high standards took Sleater-Kinney past its riot grrrl beginnings into wider-ranging music: the giddy soul-strut of "Step Aside" on "One Beat" (2002), the 11-minute roller-coaster ride that is "Let's Call it Love" on "The Woods" (2005), and the straight-up pop of "Leave Me Behind" from "All Hands on the Bad One" (2000).

The quest not to digress or recycle also led the band members to question themselves every step of the way. Tensions spilled over into personal and artistic conflicts and led to several near-breakups; each time, the band members came back to produce galvanizing work. But after recording "The Woods" and once again playing to mostly sold-out clubs and theaters around the world, Sleater-Kinney decided to pack it in.

"After 11 years as a band, Sleater-Kinney have decided to go on indefinite hiatus," Tucker, Brownstein and Weiss announced in June on their Web site, www.sleater-kinney.com. "The upcoming summer shows will be our last. As of now, there are no plans for future tours or recordings."

The band offered no more information, and declined all interview requests. Sleater-Kinney will play two final shows Aug. 11-12 in its home base of Portland.

"I had the usual questions when they told me this is what they were going to do: Were they OK? Is everyone still friends? Is there any underlying drama that we can help with?" Sub Pop's Kiewel says. "But there wasn't any drama involved. They were all just ready to move on and do other things at this point in their lives."

Other responsibilities and opportunities pull at the trio. Tucker, 33, is now married and has a child; Brownstein, 31, has begun a promising career as a writer; and Weiss, 40, is a full-time member of the rock band Quasi.

They leave behind one of the best seven-album runs in rock history.

Not bad for three women who never used to pack enough guitars.

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A PARADE OF EXCEPTIONAL ALBUMS

"Call the Doctor" (Chainsaw, 1996): Whip-smart punk rock that raises a din despite the low-fi production, highlighted by the instant anthem "I Wanna be Your Joey Ramone."

"Dig Me Out" (Kill Rock Stars, 1997): Janet Weiss' drumming instantly raises the temperature and varies the arrangements, the melodies pinwheeling outward and upward in all directions.

"One Beat" (Kill Rock Stars, 2002): Another major leap in songwriting, with a pointed protest song ("Combat Rock"), a Memphis-style soul workout ("Step Aside") and even a potent blues ("Light Rail Coyote").

"The Woods" (Sub Pop Records, 2005): With Dave Fridmann (Flaming Lips, Low, Mercury Rev) producing, the trio turns another corner on its most adventurous album, a new peak of focused passion fused with increasingly accomplished musicianship.

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(c) 2006, Chicago Tribune. Distributed by Knight Ridder/Tribune News Service.