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The Slits
Postiwyd gan Sam (Sub-Editor) o Caerdydd - Cyhoeddwyd ar 26/09/2009 am 00:00
Much has been written about punk. The chaos, the fury, the white heat. Too much? Yes it was important. Yes it seemed to come from nowhere (if you ignore early 70s pub-rock). Yes it even shook up “The Establishment”, for a while at least, before it adjusted and duly swallowed punk, like it does with any sub-cultural movement in its hegemonic ways.
But as a stand-alone movement, the music and artefacts it left behind look sallow in the cold light of hindsight. The music was not punk’s triumph. Its triumph was the doors it kicked down, the great raid on the Fortress of Popular Music.
The period that followed punk’s demise, roughly 1978 – 1984, was a time of almost limitless possibilities, when pop was at its most vulnerable to the proles. It was a time when almost anyone could storm the charts, get a deal. We’re not talking X-Factor here, plebs singing karaoke, but people picking up instruments they could barely play and throwing together ideas, genres and styles like never before and I dare say since, certainly not with the same cultural punch.
During this period, now tagged post-punk, The Slits were spat out. Starting out as an all-female group and all in their teens, they stood out from the misogynist remnants of rock. Genuinely unable to play, their music was still noticeably flecked with the music they all devoured, reggae, which was still somewhat of an underground scene then compared to the global reach it has now.
By the time The Slits came to record their seminal debut album Cut in 1979, the playing was tighter and the drummer was disposed. In came a guy called Budgie who added polyrhythmic drumming to the heady dub-space, the scratchy guitars, the wail and the warble of Ari Up’s vocals, the furious yet mischievous lyrics.
Alongside the frenzied straight-up punk-reggae tracks (So Tough, Shoplifting) and the quietly indignant dub-fused skanks (Ping Pong Affair, Newtown), Cut’s cover cemented its place in the cannon of essential albums. Invoking the tribal rhythms contained within (alongside the now slightly galling concept of the Noble Savage) Ari Up, Viv Albertine and Tessa Pollitt pose defiantly in front of an English cottage smeared in mud and sporting loincloths. The image enraged the mainstream as much as the underground, misconstrued by all. The Slits were feminists. The image was one of defiance, one of strength. But the point was mostly missed.
The Slits, as seems apt for their shambolic sound, flip-flapped and faded, all over by 1982.
Well for twenty five years.
They’re back with a new album, Trapped Animal (out next month on Narnack) and are coming to Cardiff, playing Clwb Ifor Bach on October 9th. Get a ticket. This is essential.
