I’m trying in vain to recall when I first heard the Slits. I am reasonably sure that I first heard OF them in Greil Marcus’ incredible book, “Lipstick Traces,” which weaves together iconoclastic moments in music, art, philosophy and history to create a kind of invisible history of the 20th century. (One of their first-ever recordings, “A Boring Life,” is featured on the book’s companion soundtrack, which is well worth tracking down if you can find it.)
When I DID finally hear them, I was not disappointed. In fact, the music quickly became essential to me, like air — in large part due to its fresh mix of rage, humor and incisive assessments of the way mainstream culture boxes women in.