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| Rubella Ballet make their own clothes and music.
Robin Gibson reckons they're a sight for sore eyes. IN POPLAR, Rubella Ballet live on the 24th floor, but it's not getting anyone down. It's become the base for their newly-formed Ubiquitous Records, and with optimism and organisation come crumbly biscuits which fall into the coffee, and (finally) four people to talk to instead of two. Sid and Zillah have been the mainstays of Rubella Ballet for a long time. Sid is gigantically tall and has just Hoovered up; Zillah is rather smaller and has been sending out copies of their 'Money Talks' 12-inch. This time it's working. Ubiquitous Records is the vehicle for their multi-hued cries. "We'd gone to Jungle and hoped that something would be different, but it wasn't," explains Zillah. "And we went to other labels to see if they were interested, but they all said the same thing: 'You look great, but your lyrics are too heavy' or... I don't know, they just don't know what they want, anyway." Sid: "They just want guaranteed hits, if they're gonna put money into you, they want it back, fourfold, now." "And we thought, well, we've got more chance of selling records cheaper, and making some money, by doing it ourselves," continues Zillah. So they did. 'Money Talks' eclipses last year's Jungle-released '42�F': a tight, massive, drum-driven assault, it's angry and caring, loud and potent. It's Rubella Ballet in control , talking straight. "In this land of milk and honey/All they want is your money/In this corrupt society/ The rich pay to be free/Money talks/Money talks...", "It just about summed it up for me," says Zillah. "Every problem I look at, everywhere, is always down to money. Just living here," (Rubella double as all-year festive illuminations in Poplar's dreary and dismal environs) "you see so many people struggling, and it's all because of money. Whether it's records, or buying clothes for their kids, or food..." Sid describes even their own kitchen as frequently being a Mother Hubbard situation. "And, if you've got loads of money," he adds, "people love it. You can do anything. Just give them ten grand and they'll do it for vou. Whereas; if you haven't got ten grand, or even ten quid, or ten pence ... y'know. You're fucked." But a new positivism is rising. The label, the sweat and the control that go with it are another sentence in the Rubella statement. It's ironic that so much attention has focussed on their Dayglo garb as being no more than garb, when it s actually part of their message. Ballet music and clothes and light and colour are part of a whole. "The right to live/not the need to survive", as they once said in 'Something To Give'. Assert yourself, say Rubella Ballet, in every move! New guitarist Steve is here. He tends to talk of stoats and ferrets; came round one night with a bottle of Mescai and convinced them. The new line-up is stable and knows itself: Steve was a friend and fan, and bassist Rachel is Zillah's sister. Steve mutters quietly. "I was in a ... heavy metal sort of band." I furrow my brow. "Shocking," he admits. Another relevant addition is Kara (aged four), who not only guests on vocals and video, but also ties in valuably with their vibrant use of colour and (artwise) unfettered, childlike imagination. Check the video 'Freak Box', around now. AN ALBUM is out this week called 'At Last... It's Playtime'. The title is perfect. New songs are in good shape and old ones are set down at last (in considerably altered forms}. Catching them in the act is becoming easier. Musically, Rubella long ago extricated themselves from the anarcho/punk maelstrom whence they Sprang, if they rush, they do it so that it tingles, sparkling and keen. If they pace it out, it's just as good: fluent and original. An eight-minute 'Twister' is promised. I can hardly wait. "We just went in and did the tracks we've always wanted to do ... exactly the way we wanted to do them," enthuses Sid. This stretches to trombone playing, courtesy of Rachel, Rachel (code name for unstoppably talkative bait of energy) bears the dubious distinction of having played orchestral concerts at the Royal Festival Hall, among other (less sumptuous) situations. And attitudes (to some extent) run in the family. "We always had to play 'God Save The Queen' at the beginning," she relates. "And when my mum and dad came, they'd never stand up. They were the only two people in the audience who wouldn't! 'Oh, yeah, Rachel's mum and dad are here again' I gave it up 'cos it got like going to school... I play the piano, too!" And learnt the entire Rubella set within three weeks of picking up a bass, and threw up all the way back from France, and works for Telecom, too. She found that dressing down at work encouraged patronising attitudes, little girl treatment. Dressing back up worked perfectly. Assert yourself; Zillah: "If someone ever says to me I can't do something, that's when I want to do it. I don't think anybody's got any right to say that to anyone. And you can show by what you look like that you're not going to stand for being told. That you're not just a silly little girl. I think we're still a threat to a lot of people." "Nobody knows the rules/ But everyone plays the game/ We know your game/ But I bet you can't play ours..." Without punk, would there have been Rubella Ballet? Sid: "I think there could have been. When I was a kid, I always wanted to break out. You'd go to school, ou'd . .. ugh... !" he mentally retches at the rest. "This lot," referring to Zillah, "were wearing binliners before Johnny Rotten ever thought of putting toothpaste on his hair." The projected overground Dayglo fashion revolution last year never quite made it, though. Prices? More like fear. There were never enough potential wearers. How far can you go? Rubella Ballet mean going as far as you want. Or need to. Zillah: "It's just that the whole idea was to create something more exciting. Without punk we'd probably have been working now. Or not working." If punk must mean something, then let it mean this, at least. The toes of Sid's socks have been cut off. Top Shop awaits: not that there can be many people with feet quite as huge as those. The feeling of one of those effervescent gigs. Sid: "It's brilliant. You can't buy that sort of experience. Alright," he concedes, "if there's just three of them ... there's three people that think we're brilliant. If there's more ... great stuff!" There will be more. Some things just talk, some things demand attention. Some of you will say Sid's a hippie. I'M disagree, and just say he's my favourite drummer. "Why do you have to classify it?" he laughs, "Just be, man. Just live it." At last, it's life time. One fanzine writer asked them what they'd most like to be alone on a Tube platform with. Sid thinks it's a daft question, but he said Bruce Lee .. . and a Portastudio. The kick, the invention, and the energy to do it. What Rubella Ballet are. THE END (Sounds June 22nd 1985) |
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