"They're not session players or virtuosos," says Goodmanson, "But they've developed what they have together—which is a special thing. The way the three of them combine is really potent in a way that's hard to pinpoint or even describe."
Opening with a jarring duo of corrosive cuts—a sequence intended as both a statement and challenge to listeners— the rest of the album yields to a series of cleverly absorbed genre exercises.
Basil Childers
Sleater-Kinney: (from left) Janet Weiss, Carrie Brownstein, and Corin Tucker.
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"On something like 'Combat Rock', for example," says Brownstein of one lumpen anthem, "we were thinking, 'Let's write a reggae song.'" By the time they're through giving the tune a terse, angular makeover, even the intended Lee Perry homage ends up sounding singularly like a Sleater-Kinney song.
Elsewhere, S-K indulge their classic-rock streak—the band often cover old CCR and Jefferson Airplane songs in concert—with the Doors-y drone of "The Remainder" and the bouncy Motown shuffle of "Step Aside," a dance floor call-out with a conscience.
Here, Tucker sings storming lead in a voice far removed from her signature high-register hiccup. "I wanted to sound like LuLu on that one," she says of the track, but ends up coming off more like Martha Reeves, while Brownstein and Weiss offer their best Vandellas backup.
"This mama works 'til her back is sore/But the baby's fed and the tunes are pure," belts Tucker, carving sweat-soaked filigrees into the song and proving she's nothing if not a soul singer in the best, broadest sense of the word.
The album's standout, however, is another old-school inspiration. "I have a lot of things lodged in my brain from my teenage years," laughs Tucker. "They sorta get dredged up whenever I try and write." One of those things triggering a synapse was the Rolling Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil," which inspires both the title and tenor of the album-closing "Sympathy."
Utilizing a whole host of Stones aphorisms—slide guitar opening, funky cowbell, sotto voice backing—Tucker fashions a haunting blues, written as a prayer for the survival of her prematurely born baby. Against Brownstein's dirty, churning, Keef-nicked riffs, Tucker's tortured howl ("I've got this curse in my hands/All I touch fades to black") leads to a Herculean breakdown that surely ranks as one of the most explosive moments in the band's catalog.
"To me," offers Goodmanson of One Beat, "it's not a record that's built for alternative radio. Yet, surprisingly, the reaction from everyone I've played it for has been like, 'Wow, these guys are really going for it.'"
Indeed, the current landscape of rock radio—dramatically altered in the past year by the likes of Ryan Adams, the Strokes, and White Stripes—seems the most welcoming in years for an act like Sleater-Kinney.
The band's label head, Kill Rock Stars owner Slim Moon, isn't so sure. "When the last two records came out, the powers that be at radio said, 'We can't play this because there's no bass, there's no bottom end.' And now they're playing the White Stripes," he notes of the similarly bassless combo. "But the other thing they always say is, 'Well, we already have a 'female' song in our rotation.' So I don't know if the rules have changed that much. I guess we'll find out."
"I don't ever really imagine us with a place in the mainstream," insists Weiss. "By a lot of the choices we've made, it's sorta predestined for us not to become one of those bands. If we somehow did, I guess it'd be that much more of an accomplishment."
Regardless of their commercial fate, Sleater-Kinney can rest easy with the creative triumph of One Beat—and in the fact that they've developed a core constituency of fans who are in it for the music.
"They've built that thing," says Goodmanson, "where they make their own records, have complete creative control, and can play any city in America two nights in a row and sell out the venue. To me, that's a perfect world. If they can keep that going —it's a dream situation."
"We don't make tons of money. The goal of the band has never been about making money," says Tucker. "We just want to be able to sustain ourselves and continue making music. Who knows what that means for the future."
It appears to be a bright, expanding horizon, as the band's mostly young female audience has, in recent years, grown to include more men and more adults. "I think they're still reaching a lot of young people," says Moon, "but I hear from a lot of older fans—people who'd given up on rock 'n' roll—who say the band has restored their faith in music."
In retrospect, perhaps the amusement park setting does fit. From where they're standing, Sleater-Kinney can get both the dizzying heights and the homey midway fare—a perfect balance of familiar pleasures and adrenaline-soaked risks.
And at last, they're tall enough to ride.
bmehr@seattleweekly.com 
Sleater-Kinney play the Capitol Hill Block Party main stage at 7:45 p.m. Sun., July 14.
