When I spoke to Ari Up in 2006 after a show in the Comox Valley, our interview began with the former Slits singer climbing into the bushes for a pee. When she was done, Up returned to the phone and barked, apropos of nothing, “I’m not on drugs, by the way. I’m high on adrenaline. I don’t do drugs, or drink even. But I would like to have more sex.” It was nothing I could help her with at the time, but I certainly appreciated the insight. I was putting together a small profile on Up for a newspaper, and the first three minutes of that call (including sound effects) said more about her feral nature than any number of 50 cent words I might have come up with. Same went for the next 20 minutes, barely any of which I could transcribe because it came in a near-impenetrable and exhilarated gush of Jamaican patois, mingled with Up’s native German, and a hint of the South London accent she took on as a child plunked square into Britain’s grim punk crucible of the ’70s.

Ari Up was 14 when she hatched the Slits with bandmate Palmolive at a Patti Smith show, and 15 when they joined the Clash, Buzzcocks, and the Subway Sect on the fabled White Riot tour. Artist-journalist-scenemaker Caroline Coon noted at the time that the four ladies of the Slits and in particular their wild-child vocalist massively outstripped their male touring partners in shock value, which wasn’t exactly a rare commodity at the time. About Up, Coon wrote, “She obviously presents a challenge to the very foundations of decency and order.” (Sounds like my kid.) We’re likely all well familiar with this semi-hit, the Slits’ greatest contribution to an extraordinary era, and a singular example of the thrilling and unlikely hybrid of punk and dub that throbbed out of London at the time. Caribbean and African exotica resonated through Britain’s musical underground for the decade that followed, and the spell persists 30 years later and an ocean away in outfits like Vancouver’s great Calamalka, or the insurgent Sorcerers.

Ari Up’s life after the Slits included a spell living naked in the jungles of Belize (as legend has it), rebranding herself as Jamaican DJ Mad-dusa, raising three kids, and kicking out a superior solo effort called Dread More Dan Dead in 2005. That album’s hot collision of dancehall, hip-hop, and three-chord guitar abuse made a fine appetizer for the Slits “reunion.” Up and bassist Tessa Pollitt hooked up a few years back, along with some friends (including Hollie Cook, daughter of the Sex Pistols’ Paul Cook), and the new album Trapped Animal is the result. This thoughtful if lukewarm review over at Dusted notwithstanding, the single “Ask Ma” is getting plenty of rotation at my house. It’s as supple and elastic as the Slits of yore, hanging beautifully from Pollitt’s gothy bassline, and the snot is a little more seasoned. But mostly, I just like to hear Ari Up laying down earth mamma law on the heads of messed up boys. If that’s an affront to decency, then let order be unrestored.

The Tyee, October 2009