{"id":354,"date":"2010-10-21T13:30:12","date_gmt":"2010-10-21T12:30:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.badreputation.org.uk\/?p=354"},"modified":"2010-10-21T13:30:12","modified_gmt":"2010-10-21T12:30:12","slug":"silence-is-a-rhythm-too","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/badreputation.org.uk\/2010\/10\/21\/silence-is-a-rhythm-too\/","title":{"rendered":"Silence Is A Rhythm Too"},"content":{"rendered":"
In 1994 I was 12. I was also spending most of my time in the late 70s. Surely the only punk in my small Cornish town, I’d got a short back and sides, a pair of docs and a blazer prickling with safety pins. I’d got my Pistols, Clash, Ramones, Buzzcocks, Undertones. And I wanted to tear everything to pieces. I was all set.<\/p>\n
Then one day while rifling through my parents’ (excellent, though I
hated to admit it) record collection I pulled out a sleeve that looked like a
B Movie soundtrack. There was an exploding volcano, a pterosaur and three
women dressed as bedouin from hell. It was
Return of the Giant Slits<\/a><\/em><\/strong>.<\/p>\n
When I put the record on it was like nothing I’d heard before. It
was as if
The Slits<\/strong> had stolen their beats from the gaps in other
peoples’ songs. The rhythms seemed alien but I felt something
click into place – next time I had the bus fare to get to Truro
I found and bought the magnificent
Cut<\/em> and fell in love. Here was something truly radical, with
the chaos and creative destruction that I loved in punk but with
irony and humour and WOMEN.<\/p>\n