The hallways of San Francisco's Fillmore Auditorium are papered with '60s-show posters, their curlicue lines and letters reaching out to entangle you like a persistent, still-perplexing dream. From where I stand, watching Sleater-Kinney put the pedal to a new song, I can see a naked Janis Joplin enshrined above the bar. Corin Tucker's wild vibrato rings through the old room, and the scrim of history descends. Suddenly Tucker is Bonnie--still peach-faced and violent, but ready to run without Clyde. Gangly Carrie Brownstein cocks her hips, launches a volley of stuttered guitar, and blurs into the Clash's Mick Jones. Snapping her gum and her snare, black-banged Janet Weiss dances on her drum stool, Stockard Channing's Rizzo riding... More >>>