For all practical and fundamental purposes, punk rock is lifeless. Seriously. Joe Strummer’s optimism and socialistic glorifications have been stripped from all mediums. The misrepresented anarchy seen on Never Mind the Bullocks has been stomped to the ground by both militarized police (anybody else at the RNC?) and the docility following the promises made by our political leaders. Save the Buzzcocks’ DIY politics and the Ramones’ blissful naivety, it appears that punk’s remains are now artifacts cellophane wrapped in jewel cases and translated into a slew of zeros and ones.

On a pragmatic level it is quite easy to see truth in the above argument. There is however, an incalculable spectrum of music, life, politics, etc. that makes this argument completely self-combust. Horizontal stripe sweater-wearing music critics such as myself continue, for now three decades, to overanalyze the life out of punk. How calculated is their musicianship? What the hell is a Fun House? But somewhere behind the missed notes and the record label sellouts, punk has the last laugh. John Lydon is a genius, Gang of Four taught me how to dance, and who remains more relevant today than Johnny Thunders? How silly it is to not see that punk is everywhere.

Theoretical babble aside, no album from the punk movement maintains its relevance more than The Slits slapdash debut Cut. For all of the social barriers and sexual standards that the likes of Joe Strummer and Richard Hell broke down, they were some sexist assholes. In fact punk, like the societies that created the genre, is filled with sexist assholes. Until The Slits formed in 1976, Patti Smith was nearly the sole non-dude face within the punk movement. What refreshing faces they must have been: a handful of underage Londonettes borrow instruments, learn chords and proclaim to the world that girls rule and boys sometimes drool.

The Slits were not the only female punk band to surface in Europe in the 70’s. They were however, the most beautifully brash and charming of all of their contemporaries and followers. Both stylistically and sexually, The Slits changed the music that has come since their humble beginning. There would be no Kim Gordon, no Sleater Kinney and no Yeah Yeah Yeahs without this album.

With all of the social and sexual implications seen on the Slits’ debut, it is hard to believe how fun the record is. Reggae bass drones, cacophonous misplayed guitars and proto-Bjork shrieks combine in an irregularly impressive fashion. Cut is an album that will change the way that you listen to music. It will show you how stale everything else in the world can be. It will make you both dance and never fully understand the bunk argument that punk is no longer relevant.

Listen if you like: The Clash, M.I.A and/or Sonic Youth

Tune into Radio K’s Last Year’s Model on Monday November 17th and 24th at 8pm to hear the consistent babble of hosts Phil and Jordan and listen spastic fun of Cut