"My head is like a radio set . . . my nightmares don't project my dreams"
-- The Slits, "F.M", 1976.

"Punk wasn't about being a follower . . . it was about creating your own thing. The Slits were never a punk band in the 'follower', or the normally accepted sense of that word."
-- Tessa Pollitt, The Slits' bass player, September/October 2003.

A chance link up with Richard Dudanski, ex Public Image and 101'ers drummer had in turn, connected me to Tessa Pollitt, ex Slits bass player. I knew that Richard Dudanski was close to members of The Slits and I was keen to be introduced. Though The Slits have rarely been as high profile as The Sex Pistols or The Clash, they were undeniably right there at the outset of punk music in London, back in 1976, and an integral part of that unfolding culture. If anyone is in a position to speak informatively about the conditions that created punk and the intensity of those years, Tessa Pollitt and other members of The Slits are. The heat is quite intense, even though it's late September, as I make my way through Ladbroke Grove on the way to ex Slits bassist Tessa Pollitt's house.

Her road is busy: People argue, bargain, and exchange gossip on a Sunday afternoon. There is noise -- the bustle of restaurants, street vendors, market people; different accents and languages collide with a collage of musical vibes. Moroccan music, Indian music, r'n'b, hard spiritual dubwise tunes, ragga, all fused into a tower of Babel of different sound and impressions.

This is Ladbroke Grove, with its characteristically dichotomous moods: inspiring, yet simultaneously chaotic. It's a busy day. The tail end of a hot summer.

I knock on Tessa's door and am met by a calm and unassuming lady, with what can only be described as a truly gentle and gracious manner. I enter her basement flat, stepping into the lounge. Hanging from the ceiling is a large punch bag. An array of martial arts weaponry adorns the walls or is arranged neatly on the floor and stacked in the corners of the room.

Propped against the wall is a battered and much played bass and amp. There is also a piano and pages and pages of sheet music. Stacked in piles and arranged in shelves are row upon row of old sound system dub tapes and piles of worn records and books, mostly about art, music and Oriental medicine, a subject Tessa has studied closely for many years now.

Adorning the walls are some elaborate and intriguing paintings: Some done by her daughter (from her relationship with punk funk bassist and early Rip Rig and Panic and early ONU Sound contributor, Sean Oliver), some by Tessa herself. Bold and disorienting spirals of black paint and 3d creations of huge eyed naïve faces peer out from the walls, impressionistic and powerful. Tessa seems tranquil, with an almost otherworldly detachment, lack of guile and front. No subterfuge and assumed self importance. (A similar mood and impression I received from her long-term friend Don Letts when I had interviewed him exactly one year before.) No ego at work here. No ugly self-important personality. Relaxed and comfortable with herself, she makes me feel at ease. << Drawing by Tessa Pollitt

Tessa's daughter (who has all the fine-boned handsomeness of her father, the aforementioned Antiguan British dub funk punk bassist Sean Oliver) takes her leave and we begin talking. Tessa shows me piles of mid 70s sound system flyers she has collected over the years: "Jah Shaka, Zulu Warrior plays for all Kings and Princesses in Stamford Hill", "Fatman inna sound clash with the legendary Coxsonne Sound", "Ray Symbolic plays for all conscious people" exclaim the flyers.

She tells me stories of the years between 1975 to 1979: The flux of change, the heat, the focused intensity, the chaos and creation vibration principle that inspired her to pick up her instrument and get involved. Her road from the garage punk of the early Slits' raw nerve euphoric music to the resonant dread basslines she played for Adrian Sherwood and Dennis Bovell:

TP: Everything that went before our time, we just threw out the window. It wasn't good enough for us. We were so disappointed in what went before. We weren't from hippie stock. We hadn't come up from that, had nothing to do with that. Our parents were from the post-war time. My parents separated when I was very young. I lived with my Mum in the city, but also spent some time with my Dad in the country. I grew up with that duality, close to nature yet being comfortable with the city.

What drew you to music in 1975/1976? Clearly, the path you and The Sex Pistols et al took was an unusual and extreme route to follow back then, except for those who didn't fit into accepted structures.

TP: was always attracted to music. And painting: my grandfather had worked as a restorer for Holman Hunt, the Pre-Raphaelite artist. When Holman Hunt got older, his sight began to fade, and my grandfather acted as his restorer. All this influenced me as I was growing up, the duality of nature and the inner city and a constant backdrop of art and music.

Can you tell us about the early music you were listening to before you played with The Slits, and about how The Slits ultimately got together? TP: I was 17 when I joined The Slits. Before I got into to early dub and sound system music, I listened to Lou Reed, Velvet Underground, Nico, other stuff I heard from my sister too. But even before joining The Slits, I had the rough beginning of a punk band together: we had a band called The Castrators, but even before we'd played any gigs, we had the News of The World knocking on our door! It was ridiculous, they were so keen to get the inside story on this all-girl punk group! We had barely played together! It was soon after that I met the rest of The Slits: Viv Albertine had already been hanging around with Keith Levene, Sid Vicious and the Flowers of Romance, and then we met up with Ari and Palmolive. Keith Levene is someone Viv Albertine knew very well, and they were very close. I really respected Keith Levene as a musician, and to be honest, in a way he made me feel inadequate because of his ability as a musician, his musicianship: Keith could really play. He used to play guitar a lot with Viv Albertine, and he played live with The Slits on a couple of occasions, guesting on guitar on tracks like "Man Next Door".

(Recounting her early experiences with The Flowers of Romance to Jon Savage in England's Dreaming, Viv Albertine, The Slits' guitarist, remembers it this way: "Keith Levene and I used to work on a lot of sounds. We used to talk about guitars all the time. We had this thing called guitar depression. It was about being depressed from learning to play your instrument: how you try to feed your personality through it. This sound we got was quite trebly, like a buzz saw crossed with a wasp. It was just a matter of whacking all the treble up and distorting it. You had to be strict: there was no sign of a twelve bar in anything you did, except The Pistols. . . ." She goes on to say that The Flowers of Romance (who included Keith Levene, Sid Vicious and Viv Albertine) were "a bunch of interesting looking people so we'd get interviewed and we'd never done anything and could hardly play.")

Can you tell us about your first concert together?

TP: There were so few female role models for us, and we felt that really, there was just something we had to do. There were so many limitations on women musicians that had to be broken. We didn't want to be labelled or categorised at all. People like to label and categorise: it makes things so much easier for people doesn't it? But we weren't having any of it. A lot of people were disturbed or unsettled by us. We were too unpredictable, explosive even. But you know I wouldn't like to say I was even a musician at that time.

The first Slits gig we played, we played with The Clash. It was in Harlesden. I had only picked up the bass two weeks before. I wasn't a musician. I was terrified, but you know I was just 17, and at that age you have so much energy and excitement in you, it carries you. I remember at one point onstage, me and Palmolive (The Slits' drummer, now a member of a reclusive Christian sect) looked at each other in amazement as if to say "What the fuck are you doing?" We were all playing a different song from each other! But we got away with so much, and the audience didn't care. The energy was what mattered. We were playing from our heart. Literally. With spirit. Our spirit was there.

Sniffin' Glue, the up and coming fanzine of the time remembers it this way: "The Slits played their first gig at The Harlesden Coliseum supporting The Clash in March. . . . Their set was mad, noisy, chaotic, brilliant. . . . They were inspired but totally unrehearsed. . . . Bassist Tessa knew very few of the songs while the singer Ari Up, danced around screamin . . . like a wailing banshee. I've got to admit, they scared the shit out of me."

Can you tell us about the infamous White Riot tour with The Clash?

TP: The White Riot tour with The Clash was the next major thing for The Slits: It was fantastic, and more than anything else, a lot of fun. Paul Simonon, Joe (Strummer) and Mick (Jones) were really a lot of fun to be with. But we were thrown out of so many places, different hotels. Even having The Slits spray painted on my bass guitar case meant we weren't allowed into a lot of hotels. They just presumed we were going to smash the place up. It was madness. The Slits, Don Letts, The Clash -- they just thought we were a whole heap of trouble. Don Letts was our manager at that time, as well as playing his roots and culture dub sounds before us and The Clash played our sets.