Life's full of odd coincidences. 30 years ago, I would have never imagined that one day, at the ripe age of 47, I would have seen Wire and Sex Pistols (both bands oh so crucial for my chaotic teens ) playing live on the same stage, the same night, and, moreover, less than 500 yards from the very house when I'm born, in my hometown of Turin. And even less I could have imagined (or hoped!) to see both bands still very much (musically speaking) at the top of their game.

And - third coincidence - never I would have believed to see Sex Pistols, the quintessential "no future" band, playing tonight for 100.000 people, most of them less than half of John, Steve, Paul and Glen's age!

I went to the Traffic Festival (a yearly free festival normally dealing in music I would never touch with a 100 feet pole) much to see my beloved Wire as to see Sex Pistols, and considering that Wire did a great set, I could be tempted to go a bit more into the details of their performance. But this is Sex Pistols night, and there was little doubt that the 100.000 (or 70.000, according to the police) who gathered tonight at the Pellerina park are here to see Sex Pistols. It's a huge crowd. HUGE. And young. I went here tonight half expecting a nostalgia parade, as the one who, last year, crowded the Turin Stadio delle Alpi to see newly reformed Police. Oh boy, if I was wrong. Me (and few other grey haired seniors, some with their kids) notwithstanding, the average age tonight must be 20, if not less. There's a great vibration in the air, and as I see plenty of drunken girls amassing near the border of the concert arena (a bowl of mud after a brief but violent thunderstorm a couple of hours ago), I know I'm gonna enjoy this.

Beer in hand, I chose a relatively distant but quite panoramic (and not too densely crowded) spot on a low hill to the left of the stage, and crack into a loud laughter as the lights turn down, and I hear that the intro is nothing else than Vera Lynn's "There'll Always Be An England". I must be the only Italian (and the only Turin resident!!!!) recognizing the song, and most of the people around probably takes me for stupid. The intro stop, the crowd cheers, and the band enters, with John evidently moving with some difficulty (I'll learn later that he has suffered some serious muscle pain before the gig, to the point that a doctor was called). Being this Torino, bottle start flying immediately, and John, with a surprisingly commanding voice, makes no mistake he doesn't like it.

"Excusssssse me... this is fuckin im-po-lite! Stop throwing bottles or we'll fucking go home!!!"

And without further ado, the band starts "Pretty Vacant". They're just warming up, and quite with some difficulty, but the crowd doesn't care. From my hill I can clearly see the first five rows are really staging
some serious slam dancing. And, really, we can't stop singing "We're soooo pretty, oh sooo pretty...." Everyone knows the songs to their hearts - not bad for a bunch of Italian teenagers!

As I said before, I went to the gig half expecting something really and deliberately retro-ish, a band struggling to recover the energy of the past. After all, a lot of reviews I've read after 1996 weren't exactly positive. Now I'm seeing them live, and, well, it's definitely not 1977 revisited. Sure, they're old, really old. John look his usual spirited self, but Steve, well, he could be my landlord (one of the youngster near me says "He looks like a retired Mafia boss!!"). Paul Cook is a cypher behind the drum kit (but he's playing seriously well), and Glen Matlock, in a immaculate white sport dress, could have been umpiring tennis games at Wimbledon.

For a second I'm somehow puzzled, maybe a bit disappointed. But it last just few seconds.... gee, what was I expecting? Another Rolling Stones, all plastic surgery, pharmaceutical quality drugs and blood transfusion? Madonna? Michael fucking Jackson? No way! These are the Sex Pistols, the real bloody deal - they were SUPPOSED to become old bloated middle aged Rodney Dangerfield lookalikes! And who care about how they look - tonight they REALLY rock! After the slow start, the momentum being to keep up, and "Seventeen", "Liar" and "Stepping Stone" really build one on the top of the other.

John seem to be pleased with what he's saying, and besides some more "no bottle throwing" warning and few insults to the lighting techs ("Do you WANT to turn that fuckin spot down? What are you trying to do, make a fuckin airplane landing here, you bloody idiot?"), his interaction with the crowd is mainly of the jolly variety. The crowd itself is answering very well to John little intra-song speeches, especially the one about GW Bush and Allah before "Belsen Was A Gas". Energy started to really flow on a long version of "No Fun" (better than Stooges original in my book), then more stadium sing-a-long (something to whom Italian crowds always react well) ensues for "Holiday In The Sun", "God Save the Queen" and "EMI".

After the slow beginning, I'm surprised how well the band is playing. Sex Pistols weren't never exactly notorious as top notch musician, but tonight they really sound like Who should have sounded 40 years ago (gotta hear "Live at Leeds" again). Well, a cross over between Slade and Who and the Stooges, but ok, you've got the idea. And the complete lack of pretensions, of make believe, really helps making the whole thing great fun to hear. Fun - yes, that's word for it. Tonight it all great fun. There are better band to see playing live - NO one can beat Killing Joke on a good night, but Sex Pistols are awesome.

And... well, can I say it? They don't sound tamed. The lyrics of their songs have an universal quality that still ring true after 30 year. The music is as immediate as it comes. But the main thing is that the fire is still much there. I'm not sure if is Sex Pistols fire, or the idea of punk rock itself - don't ask me, I'm not a bloody philosopher, but one can sense still the danger, the violence, the immediacy. Not bad for a band with only one studio record in their whole career...

The band leaves stage abruptly, but there's no doubt they'll be back soon, and in a matter of three minutes here they're again - for the song I've been waiting to listen live for the last 30 years: Bodies. Best Sex Pistols song in my own humble opinion, and the most influential. They're really cranking it up tonight. The crowd (remember, 100.000 people!) goes insane, the dancing on the front rows becomes really something to watch. And then it's "Anarchy in The UK". A long, powerful rendition. The crowd (and me!) sings the choir until everyone voice turns into a croak. John is really, REALLY pleased, and on the big screen I can see even a trace of emotion in his eyes. Well, at least that's what I imagined.

As I don't want to be slowed down by the stampede when the gig will be over, I leave after "Anarchy". While I walk behind the entrance of the backstage area, I can see journalists and technicians and various VIPs behind the main stage. If I hadn't given up a career on music industry ten years ago to pursue different, more personal interest, I would be there myself tonight. For a second, I feel something akin to regret. But then I just shrug, and I remember why I quite. Writing about music is just, well, just not much. The important people are those who play the music, and those dancing in front of the stage - the rest is just corporate business.

As I reach my car, parked under my old house (the one where I was born, remember?) I can't avoid some long repressed memories flowing. Thirty years is plenty of time. But well, tonight I felt like it was really worth living all through those years. The volume of the PA is so loud that I can still hear the band finishing through "Roadrunner" (their last encore). As I open the car door, John is seriously insulting someone of the crowd. "Him, him, you... you with the padded leather jacket! Come here, you little fuckin wanker! Come here, big boy, come here to daddy! Come on, come on, you little coward..."

Great to see how good things in life never change!!!!