Sleater-Kinney changed my life.

(This is a more personal version of my blog entry for The Detroit News.)

Really. It did.
I remember it well. I was sitting in 10th grade biology with my friend Joanna, who gets all the credit for introducing me to Sleater-Kinney. She raved about the band the entire class period. Told me I had to listen. This was in 1998, in between "Dig Me Out" and "The Hot Rock." I'm glad because I might not have loved the band so much if "The Hot Rock" was the first album I had heard by them. She let me listen to the album after class from her CD player (anyone still use portable CD players?).
I remember convinving my mother (hey, I was 15) to drive me right after school so I could purchase "Dig Me Out."
I was in love.



Sleater-Kinney got me into other Kill Rock Star bands, which got me into other indie labels, which got me into other indie music. And then I became a crazy person consumed by music, which brings us to the present.

Those of you who have no idea who Sleater-Kinney is should change that ASAP. This band is different. It's not another all-girl, feminist, man-hating, punk rock, riotgrrl (I think I covered all the stereotypes) group. With each new album, S-K never fails to astound me. I always think 'there is no way in hell they can get better than this,' but they do. Every time. I have never been disappointed with a new release from S-K, like I have with other favorite bands of mine.

When I was an intern at The State News, I wrote a (badly written) column about a road trip to Cleveland to see Sleater-Kinney.

I bet you're all wondering why I've decided to profess my love of my favorite band. S-K broke up this week. For good. It's over. But my love affair is not.

Eleven years. Seven albums. Three amazing women.