For once a white reggae style that rivals its models for weirdness and formal imagination. The choppy lyrics and playful, quavering, chantlike vocals are a tribute to reggae's inspired amateurism rather than a facsimile, and the spacey rhythms and recording techniques are exploited to solve the great problem of female rock bands, which is how to make yourself heard over all that noise. Arri Up's answer is to sing around it, which is lucky, because she'd be screeching for sure on top of the usual wall of chords. Some of this is thinner and more halting than it's meant to be, but I sure hope they keep it up. B+ -- R. ChristgauLurching into existence during the original 1977 explosion of pre-commercial London punk, the all-female Slits wrested the anyone-can-make-a-band-so-why-not-do-it-yourself ethos away from the traditionally no-women-allowed punk-rock brotherhood and unselfconsciously paraded their stunningly amateur rock noise with the enthusiastic support of the Clash and other sensible compatriots. While on the road as part of a punk package tour, the Slits were immortalized in all their primitive glory in The Punk Rock Movie. Looking back at the group's tentative beginnings now, it's clear that while the Slits may have been truly awful, they weren't much worse than many of their male contemporaries, and undoubtedly a damn sight better and smarter than some.
It was probably fortunate, however, that several years elapsed before the Slits got around to recording a debut album; by the time they reached the studio, Viv Albertine guitar), Ari Upp (vocals) and Tessa (bass), joined by drummer Budgie (later of Siouxsie and the Banshees), had become reasonably competent players. Spare and rudimentary but bursting with novel ideas and rampant originality, Cut — brilliantly produced by reggae powerhouse Dennis Bovell — forges a powerful white-reggae hybrid that serves as a solid underpinning for Ari Upp's wobbly, semi-melodic vocals. -- Trouser Press
From their album cover (which depicts them fresh from frolicking naked in the mud) to their stage show (which ends with them inviting the audience up to play their instruments while they wander off to the bar or dressing room), the Slits are tribal. Vocalist Arri Up, bassist Tessa and guitarist Viv Albertine (assisted on Cut by male drummer Budgie) were the first British all-female punk group. They began their career by opening for–and borrowing the equipment of–people like the Clash, and for a couple of years, the news from such magazines as England's New Musical Express was that they hadn't quite, ah, jelled yet, though they certainly were trying. I don't know what those limey critics' ears are made of! Because both live and on their debut LP, the Slits prove that they're not only charming but can hold their own as a band.
Much of the charm derives from their lyrics, in which they treat "relevant" topics with a wry humor that's truly refreshing: the Slits aren't funny feminists, but feminists with wit. "So Tough" takes the piss out of one poor fool's macho swagger ("Don't take it serious"), while "Typical Girls" lists various qualities of the genus ("... buy magazines ... are sensitive ... emotional") and concludes: "Typical girl gets the typical boy." This group doesn't reject sex or even love, and I like the blase way that Up tells one ex-flame, "While you were sulking, I could've been raped/In Lad-broke Grove." The same sort of humor is embodied in the equanimous view of the boy in "Instant Hit," whom I'd swear was Sid Vicious: "He is set to self-destruct/He is too good to be true."
Producer Dennis Bovell has gotten a truly unique sound from the Slits: like Public Image Ltd., they're a white band influenced heavily by reggae rhythms and guitar-chop stylings, but they don't play straight reggae. The result is an almost ticktock sound, overlaid with occasional flurries of keyboards, a recorder, and Albertine and Tessa singing in and out of unison with Arri Up, who makes the most of her middle register while indulging a penchant for the occasional birdlike falsetto trill.
Musically as well as personally, the Slits embody the individualism at the heart of the original British punk ethic, perhaps best summed up in Cut's final number: "I'll choose my own fate/I'll follow love, I'll follow hate. -- Lester Bangs, RS
Here are some things you might already know about Cut, even if you haven't heard one note of the Slits' music: This is the first time the album's been released domestically in the U.S. on CD (with the obligatory bonus tracks). The album cover features three members of the group wearing nothing but mud and loincloths. When the group first formed, they couldn't play their instruments for shit. The songs on the album offer an amalgam of punk's abrasive DIY WTF-ness and the spacious relaxed rhythms of dub reggae. This album is a keystone for any and all punk-based grrrl movements. And-- though it goes without saying, it's often said anyway-- this album is terribly, terribly important in the history of the rock music and the grand scheme of canonical flippity floo flap.
Funny thing is, for all its import, Cut is actually a lot of fun. Fun in the way Ari Up trills and coos and yelps across the songs like a precocious schoolgirl taunting all the boys and teachers. Fun in the way Viv Albertine scratches and waxes her guitar. Fun in the way Tessa's bass and Budgie's drums slip in and out of grooves like lovers test-driving the Kama Sutra. Fun in the way the group turns every subject it touches into a giddy playground sing-a-long, whether it be a diatribe against pre-set gender roles ("Typical Girls"), a story about Sid Vicious and Johnny Rotten butting heads ("So Tough"), a cautionary tale about PiL's Keith Levene's drug use ("Instant Hit"), or songs tackling other didactic topics like invasive media propaganda, shoplifting and the idealized love of a new purchase. Fun in the way producer Dennis Bovell employees spoons and matchboxes as beat accents (in "Newtown"), centers the group's meanderings with a little piano or more traditional percussion, and allows the band to occupy both punk and dub at the same time. The Slits don't destroy passerby: They stop them, dance around them, sing songs to and about them, playfully taunt and tease them, and then pass them the dutchie.
The bonus tracks are OK add-ons-- the group's version of "I Heard It Through the Grapevine" was slated to be the record's first single way back in the day, and would have served fine as another respectfully disrespectful punk cover, but appropriately ended up as the B-side to the actual first single, "Typical Girls". "Liebe and Romanze (Slow Version)" is an instrumental version of "Love Und Romance" bathing in the hot and welcome tropical sun outside of Lee Perry's studio, and serves as a pleasant cool down after the frenetic shenanigans that preceded. But, of course, if you're giving this album a spin, it's for the first 10 tracks, and if you're coming to them for the very first time, then I envy you. Yes, this is an important document, and part of any balanced popular musical diet, but this isn't a multi-vitamin-- this is skipping school as spring turns to summer to spend an extra-long lunch with friends driving to the not-so-local Jamaican bakery for a few beef patties and some much-needed fresh air. Take a long, deep breath, and enjoy the moment while it lasts. -- David Raposa, Pitchfork
― Algerian Goalkeeper, Tuesday, 26 March 2013 20:30 (eleven years ago) link