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CLASSIC GIGSHY
LUCRE 20th anniversary tour THE
HOMECOMING " NEVER MIND THE T-SHIRTS, I SAW THE SEX PISTOLS " A personal account by Phil Singleton (written in 1996)
Finsbury Park, London, 23rd June 1996. The homecoming. The Filthy Lucre Tour had begun. In just one performance, the band would be seen by more people than in their entire previous career, 30,000 fans. The size of the concert had drawn predictable criticism when announced, "Does this mean you're a stadium band?" asked one. "Finsbury Park is not a stadium. It's a field." mocked John Rotten. Twenty years had passed since the group exploded onto an unsuspecting, lethargic, flares wearing public. 1976. The year of the long hot summer, of the drought, the water bans, the sunburn. Strange that today should be so reminiscent, as if recreating those hot, sticky, gasping conditions. The time travelling experience did not end with the weather. Punks everywhere. Young, old, babies with mohicans. Punks at the train station, lining the streets, falling out of bars, blocking the traffic. Punks making their way to their place of worship, to behold the second coming. So strange, so at odds with what the group had stood for. But today was not a day to theorize, it was a day to savour. To be there. Mid-day & the gates were open. It was a festival, make no mistake. Stalls lined the park, selling burgers, beer, tie-dye shirts(!), drug paraphernalia. Have your body pierced, do a bungey jump. My God! Is this Woodstock '96? Mustn't theorize, just savour. Buy the £5 programme (& find Sid Vicious written out of the history of the group). Great nonetheless. Check out the T-Shirts. Major disappointment. Standard "God Save The Queen", "Never Mind..." designs. Expected something more, ah well. Time to sit on the grass, soak up the sun, & check out the supporting cast. Eight bands had the arduous task of keeping us entertained for the afternoon. 3 Colours Red, Fluffy, Stiff Little Fingers, 60FT Dolls, Buzzcocks, Skunk Anansie, The Wildhearts, & finally the Godfather of punk himself, Iggy Pop. Late afternoon. The open spaces were receding, people already jostling for position for the evening mass. The anticipation was mounting, an undercurrent of tension almost tangible. The sun which had baked us so mercilessly was bidding farewell, the cooling down process enhanced by the increasingly inebriated crowd throwing half-empty (thankfully plastic) glasses at, well, anything/body. Punk rockers have seemingly come of age. Spitting is out, drink tossing is in. An inspirational, yet nostalgic performance by Iggy had filled me with hope. If an old croc could still cut it, the Pistols, well, maybe, just maybe.... The atmosphere changed again. Unreal, surreal, almost dreamlike. As the band's equipment was set up, an amplifier was moved into position, the words "Sex Pistols" stenciled across it. I shivered. It's happening.
The
stage disappeared behind a huge paper curtain, a collage of tabloid headlines
circa the "Bill Grundy Incident". The crowd became restless & anxious,
a mixture of nervous excitement & disbelief. England football stars, Stuart Pearce & Gareth Southgate appeared on stage. "Who said there were no more heroes?" mumbled Pearce, "Ladies & Gentlemen....the Sex Pistols." The group burst through the paper curtain to rapturous applause."Are you ready?" enquired Johnny. We had to be. The group launched into a terrifying "Bodies". A whole damn field went crazy. 30,000 people spanning more than 2 generations, punks, straights, hell! - a mobile phone could be seen held aloft! - all singing, all committing a breach of the peace on a massive scale. The crowd surged, people fell, they ran, they tried to run, they danced, they surged again. Hang on, ride with it & hope you come out the other side. One song in & a great sense of relief could be felt. They were good, very good. My god, they're still vital. Johnny Rotten sensed this too. "Any journalists out there?" he taunted, proud of his band's opening salvo. Steve Jones simply asked the audience to give journalists "A good hiding". Keep it basic Steve.
Two songs in & the crowd were actually enjoying the show. "Fat, 40 & back" John was in self-mocking mode. It was cabaret. The fun continued, "You fat bastard" we sang in honor of Mr. Rotten's girth. "Don't be naughty" sparred our hero. Hero? Yes, don't deny it. People were smiling, happy, at a Sex Pistols concert. Don't look for explanations, juxtapositions. Don't theorize me! Enjoy! We've waited close on 2 decades for this moment. Right or wrong, right now, we just don't care. Sure there were no surprises. Note perfect renditions came & went. The adrenalin which had all but exploded from the crowd at the start had left us drained. "You seem a bit tired" said John, almost expressing concern. The feeling of danger had disappeared as well. The pogoing was replaced by bopping on the spot, but hey, most of us are not teenagers anymore. The songs kept coming, "Pretty Vacant" sounding even more powerful than on record, its sing-a-long-a-bility causing a second adrenalin rush. "They only did it 'cos of shame" spat Johnny as "EMI" closed the set. The crowd caught their collective breath. No time to relax, we wanted more! We demanded more! "How can we resist that?" asked Johnny as the Pistols emerged, refreshed, ready to thrill & insult us some more. "We have an old song some of you old tossers out there might remember." "Anarchy In The U.K." & 30,000 pairs of fatigued legs went crazy. Not as crazy as before, but not far short. A tight sounding "Problems" followed & off they went. Sex Pistols fans are persistent. We called for one final look at our heroes. We got it. "No Fun", all 7 glorious minutes. It dipped, it soared, it lifted & finally dropped us. It was over. The crowd dispersed, contented, as they made the journey back to their normal lives, taking with them a slice of history. Let the theorists theorize, let the purists ponder. Good concert? A concert? Not sure it was. An event? Yes. Good? SENSATIONAL. Review
added 23rd June 2006 (10th anniversary) ROSKILDE FESTIVAL, DENMARK, 28th June 1996 They got pissed and were destroyed by Denis Decay
Within a year I was living in Cornwall. From here I was often on the phone to various venues in Plymouth. Rumour had it that the Sex Pistols were heading down our way, although none of the venues would confirm any secret dates with the band. The booking agent at Wood's in Plymouth ensured me that he'd get back to me on the 'phone if he managed to book the Pistols. He asked me to leave my number. The bastard never phoned me up again, and to my horror and great disappointment I later found out that the Pistols played a secret gig at Woods in Plymouth on 31 August as "The Hamsters". The day after, 1 September 1977, the band performed at Winter Gardens in Penzance as "A Mystery Band Of International Repute". No one knew about it outside Penzance. The rest of 1977 was spent hoping for and awaiting another appearance from the band somewhere near our way. It never happened. To add to the irritation, a friend back home in Norway wrote me to tell that Sex Pistols were on a Scandinavian tour the summer of 1977, playing a gig at The Pingvin Club in my native home town of Oslo. Mind you, being only 16 at the time, I probably wouldn't have had any chance to attend the gig anyway, which had a strict 20 years old plus entrance criteria. I did go to see The Clash and Richard Hell & the Voidoids play in Plymouth the autumn of 77. They had with them Glen Matlock as a guest musician on some songs. It sounded very good. I also saw the Rich Kids play Pretty Vacant in Plymouth the spring of 1978. "Play God Save the Queen", someone in the audience shouted. "No way, that's Pistols shit", Matlock replied. Some years later, in 1986, I was working for a Norwegian music paper when Public Image Ltd. visited Oslo. The editor sent me to interview Lydon and the others. What I foresaw as an interesting conversation with John fell into a shambles when he thought I was "a spy from the British music press" and therefore wanted Virgin records to throw me out from the press-conference. They assured him I was no such thing as a reporter from English tabloids, and John reluctantly did a halfhearted interview. No talk about the Pistols, apart from the fact that hated the movie "Sid & Nancy." In 1996 came my first ever, and so far, only chance to see the Sex Pistols live, now reformed with Glen Matlock on bass. They played at the Roskilde Festival in Denmark. Me and a friend bought a ticket to the festival, and then set out on a 450 mile long trip from Norway to Denmark. When the Pistols entered the main stage, the PA didn't kick in until the band were half way through their first song, Bodies. But they sounded really good. The music still had attitude and energy enough to convince me that they still were a brilliant band. During their second song, someone in the audience threw a bottle on-stage. Lydon remarked that he didn't take to kindly to this and asked them to stop. By the third song, more bottles were hurled on stage, just missing Lydon's head.
Later that day, we met a couple of Norwegians who claimed they were responsible for throwing the bottles. I asked them why they had done this. "The Pistols are a punk rock band, right? They should be able to handle a few bottles on stage," said one of the guys. I told him how pathetic they both were and something about the danger of flying bottles, especially if they actually were to hit the performers on stage. My friend, aware of the fact that I'd waited a long time to see the Sex Pistols play, told me that we really should punish these guys in some way. We therefore decided to befriend them and then strike when they least expected it. The Norwegians we're already quite drunk when we offered them to smoke some very potent black hashish my friend had picked up in Copenhagen. Unknowing to them, we made a killer mix of four grams, filled a big pipe and served them. They eagerly smoked, unaware of its effects. After a short while they started mumbling incoherently to each other, and became very disorientated. One off them fell backwards on his tent and hit his head on a beer crate and immediately passed out. His friend was crawling around on all fours, not knowing who or where he was, making strange sounds - until he also passed out. A Dane came up to us and asked what we'd given them and laughed out loud when he heard exactly what we'd served them. He also thanked us for silencing them, because these two guys had been, since their arrival at the festival, a loudmouthed and annoying pain in the arse to all the other campers around them. When the duo woke up about four hours later, the one who fell on the beer crate checked his head, only to find a deep cut and coagulated blood from where the beer-crate had impacted. He needed medical attention and some stitches for that. The other one glanced pretty blurred our way. Their tent was in a shambles and somebody had stolen their beer and CD-player when they had passed out. They also missed some bands that they wanted to see play at the festival. "That's for screwing up the Pistols concert," we shouted from where we were sitting. No reply came, and the duo remained very silent for the rest of the festival.
Pictures above: Sex Pistols in action at the Roskilde Festival Review added March 2006 NEVER MIND THE BANS Memories of Wolverhampton by Malcolm Jeffrey
5 mates are interested, but I'm 17 and broke, so two of us pool resources and barely scrape a fiver between us, £4 short of the required cash. However, it IS coming up to Christmas and, being a teenage punk fan, none of my relatives knew what to get me anymore, so I had maybe £10 in Boots Gift Tokens which had already arrived through the post - and I have a trick up my sleeve. We skive off games on the Thursday afternoon and get the bus to Wolverhampton: the guy with the tickets is on his dinner break so we have an hour to kill. Now, in those far-off days, you could buy something with your Boots gift tokens and if it costed less than the tokens' value they'd give you the change up to the next 50p and the rest in more tokens. So we went to Boots and I bought a Mars Bar - maybe 12p or something. "Don't you want anything else?" says the shop lady. "No" I fib, and collect 38p in change and £4.50 in new gift tokens. Then it's upstairs to the record department to buy a 10p plastic single sleeve. Another 40p and more tokens. Downstairs again to buy a torch battery - 15p. 35p change and more tokens. There were two Boots' in Wolverhampton and we spent the hour commuting between them when the security guards got suspicious, but I ended up with a huge sheaf of used gift token cards - and £4 in change. Hurray! Back to the Laf, lied about our ages and addresses, joined the Sunday Club and got the tickets - vivid pink in colour. You can have no idea how important I felt, getting back to Stourbridge, seeing all my schoolmates milling about in the town after the end of classes, with four tickets to the Sex Pistols in my pocket !! Story two. My mum frowned on my interest in punk and new wave, but she was pretty understanding and I'd already been to see the Stranglers, the Jam, and 999 by then in the early days of my gigging career. The Pistols were right out, however - filthy, decadent and disgusting - and so I had to pull a small deception. "Who are you going to see on Sunday ?" she asked. "A punk band called The Spots", I truthfully reply. Off I go on Sunday evening and get to the Laf and the bouncers are turning everyone back: Johnny Rotten has a sore throat and the gig is postponed to the 21st so we plod off home again. When I arrive at home, my mum says "What's happened ?" and I tell her that the lead singer has a poorly throat and the gig is postponed till Wednesday. Monday morning and I'm off to school. On my purple Raleigh Chopper. I open the front door and the Daily Mirror is on the mat, so I take it in to my mum. And what's on the front page ? A picture of Johnny in a hat, looking very pissed off, with a small article to the effect that "Johnny Rotten cancels opening gig of secret Sex Pistols tour in Wolverhampton because of sore throat." I had given my mum just enough information to hang myself: fitted up good and proper! Daily Mirror - you utter, utter, utter, utter bastards, I thought (or the 1977 equivalent). The irony of the situation was not lost on me though and I had to smile. Mind you, I did have to undergo the "You were going to the Sex Pistols last night !!" argument when I got back. Tee hee ! THAMES RIVER BOAT PARTY 7th June'77 My memories of the 1977 boat party... by Ray Morrissey As
everyone knows, trying to find out where and when the Pistols were playing in
1977 was a nightmare if you were not mates of someone in the music press, as they
were banned from every decent sized venue. The
boat trip was on June 7th but on the two nights before on June 5th and 6th I was
at The Roundhouse to see a great triple bill of Ramones, Talking Heads, and The
Saints. As luck would have it, Sid Vicious was at one of the shows. I had a quick
chat with him and casually asked if the band had plans for any live shows. When
he told me they were to play on a boat on the Thames that weekend I could not
believe my ears. He said it was invite only, but to come along and try to get
on. What I remember was that it was a Sunday, so we turned up about 6pm expecting the boat to leave at around 8pm, but as we got there the last of the guests were going on and the boat left shortly after 6pm. (In the Dennis Morris book 'Destroy', I am one of those pictured in the queue for the boat, with other people like myself who did not get on. The look on our faces clearly shows, "The fucking boat is leaving without us.") It pulled away and the rest is history. All was not lost as we had a back up plan. We left the area at 7pm for Earls Court Arena to see Queen live in concert. We bunked in the side doors and got down the front and had a great night. BRUNEL UNIVERSITY, UXBRIDGE 16th December '77 LET ME TELL YOU A STORY by Leigh Heggarty I was 16 at the time (you work it out!) and still at school. I remember one of the lads saying that his brother (or somebody like that) had told him there was a "mystery group" playing Brunel the following Friday. I also remember hearing an advert on Capital Radio. Anyway, one of the lads at school had a moped (!) so we all chipped in £1.75 each and he went over in the lunch break and bought a batch of tickets. I have a vague memory of him buying a few extras and touting them in the playground! Anyway,
come the day of the show I had a heavy cold and nearly didn't go (!!) but much
to my Mum and Dads horror I heroically made it down there (it's only about
three miles away). There was a big crowd waiting outside the venue which grew
more and more restless as time went on, particularly as you could hear the band
sound-checking inside ('No Feelings' if I remember correctly). I've since read
that they had lost the front door key - whatever, we were outside for what seemed
ages. When they did eventually get the doors open somebody (presumably on the
door) shouted something like, "Will everyone with tickets hold them up in
the air". This of course, produced chaos with people trying to steal tickets
out of each others hands! We just cowered at the back trying not to wave our tickets
around until finally we were able to make our way in... Yes, you've guessed it,
another long wait with the only amusement provided by the Boomtown Rats, who were
throwing badges into the crowd from the balcony. We'd also heard that members
of The Ramones and local heroes The Lurkers were in the crowd, although we couldn't
spot any of them. At last the band appeared to considerable mayhem, with Rotten
saying words to the effect of "Welcome to the most disorganised gig I've
ever seen". Anyway, we were away! Although I wasn't too well I remember thinking
the band sounded bad (although they looked great) and being very disappointed
by it all... sad really. I thought it may just have been me, but I've since heard
a tape (terrible quality) and I've spoken to a few people who were there who also
saw earlier Matlock gigs, and they thought it was terrible too. I don't remember
ever hearing John, Paul or Steve saying anything good about it. Just my luck I
guess!
BILL WRIGHT MEETS THE SEX PISTOLS This article originally appeared in the 1984 'ROUSKA' fanzine and was written by Bill Wright. Thanks to Bill and Richard Rouskateer, whereever you may be... In the late seventies, 'Bankhouse Entertainments' ran weekly promotions. At 'Pickwicks' (Dewsbury) on Mondays and at 'Ivnanhoes' (Huddersfield) on Tuesday nights. Over a three month period I booked a whole host of punk bands and other interesting stuff like the Record Mirror Road Show, Chris Spedding etc... A lot of it great music, fresh in! However after a short time we found ourselves to be losing money. I was getting really worried. I thought, "Crikey! I'm going to lose my agency and everything else". But I needn't have worried as lady luck was just around the corner... One
night, whilst seeing some of my bands audition for gigs abroad at Wakefields 'Tiffanys',
I got a call from the Sex Pistols agent. "How d'ya like a date on the Sex
Pistols?" I said,"Yeeeaah, great!" I thought he was joking to start
with. Like, everybody wanted them, but you couldn't for love or money. If you'd
offered them ten grand it would have made no difference. All they wanted was the
right situation and the right club. Then he said, "They fancy doing Xmas
Day, how about it?" I couldn't believe it, but that was the PISTOLS. That's
the way they went about things. So I said, "Yeah, lets do it." It was
decided that 'Ivanhoes' should be the venue and that the cost a mere £600.
Which was a pittance for them in those days. However there was just one reservation
and that was that we were quiet about the whole thing. So we passed the good news
by word of mouth. Only problem was that things got out of hand and it wasn't long
before the press got wind of what was going down. Now Virgin, the Pistols record
company at the time, wanted to make it a really special occasion. So between us
we decided that it would be a good idea to do an afternoon show for the underprivileged
kids of the area and then a show for the regular fans on the night. Afterwards
in conversation with him he was just like me or you. You know how you're in awe
of these people and think they're very whatever.But
he was a really nice bloke who... the business was tearing them all apart...and
it did... his brain was being pulled all different ways... they got big far too
quickly... and on such a funny level, with the aggro thing that followed them
around. But they did that performance and the kids absolutely loved it, even the
really young ones. On the night... We'd sold all our tickets and we felt that
we were limited to about 500 in that venue. So the performance comes around and
a massive queue forms outside. After we let in all the people who had tickets
there were still many more left outside. So were what seemed like every copper
in the British Isles. And then this big inspector chap comes over, badges a plenty,
to have a word with me. I was on the door and I was panicking. "God have
we let too many in... jeez they're really going to do us now." But to my
surprise this is what he had to say, "Look there's all these people out here
still and you're trying to close your doors now. I know you've got fire regulations
to observe but it's Xmas Day and the last thing that we want is for all these
people, from all over Britain, going around town kicking windows in. We would
rather have the risk of them going in there." IVANHOES, HUDDERSFIELD 25th December '77 This review was posted to the God Save The Sex Pistols Message Board on 6th January 2001 following a discussion. It is written by Russ who has very kindly given us permission to publish it here. What follows is an interview Russ held with his brother-in-law Kevin who was present at the gig. Q - When did you first hear about the Xmas day gig? A - A couple of months before, probably beginning of November. We didn't know a date or a venue, there was just this rumour going about. First of all it was word of mouth at some of the Punk clubs around Leeds that the Sex Pistols were gonna be doing a secret gig in the north of England. There were no dates or venues at this point. But there was this really long-winded process you had to go through to get tickets. It was like a voucher system. First thing you had to do was get these vouchers. I went to a club in Dewsbury to see a band called The Lurkers and a few other bands, hardly anyone was there, but throughout Yorkshire you went to these gigs and got these vouchers. I don't think anyone really believed it but we got them anyway. When you'd got the vouchers then you could buy a ticket (the address was on the back). Nobody knew it was Christmas day in Huddersfield until a few days before when the tickets arrived in the post. Q - Did you know there were two gigs that day? A - Yes, when we got there we found out there'd been one in the afternoon. Gingerbread, the one parent families organisation had something to do with the daytime gig, apparently they'd organised a party for underprivileged kids and kids of single parent families. Q - Were there demonstrators or protesters outside? A - No, cos it was such a secret gig, nobody knew it was there till a few days before. Huddersfield City center was really quiet with it being Christmas day.
A - We got there early, we were like the first people in. I remember it was really hot in there cos it was a very small club and it got totally packed out. When we got in Rotten was stood in the middle of the dance floor wearing a pith helmet (as worn by African explorers etc) and a mohair jumper skanking away (dancing) to reggae music. I didn't speak to him but one of my mates I think asked him when the gig was starting. Don't know if he got an answer, he certainly didn't stop to chat to anyone. As the club started to fill up a sort of circle surrounded him but nobody seemed to speak to him. Rotten never came across as being the most approachable person, so people just left him to it. The rest of the band was in the crowd just chatting with people. Sid walked right past us but he was in a world of his own, totally off his face. Remember that heroin wasn't a widely used drug then so we just thought he just looked really pissed, like he'd been boozing all day. He looked ill. Nancy was there keeping an eye on him, following him everywhere. They didn't seem to mix with the rest of the band. Eventually the band disappeared and it was quite a while before they came on. There weren't any support bands or anything. I also remember that Rotten seemed really isolated from the rest of the band, but then again he was like that when I saw them on the Anarchy tour in Leeds. The bar was open so by the time they eventually came on everybody was tanked up and well into it. Q - How long did they play for / can you remember any of the songs? A - I think they played for about 45 minutes to an hour. It was 23 years ago so I don't remember what songs they played, although I do remember them doing Belsen Was A Gas because it was the first time I'd ever heard it. Q - You said there was a camera there. Did you notice if they filmed the whole gig? A - It was hard to see because the club was so small. The stage area was really compact and was full of stacks. It was an intimate gig to say the least, just heaving with people and really hot. There were tables against the wall either side of the dance floor that they'd used for the party during the day, so we stood at the ones at the right hand side near the front. We could hardly see Steve Jones but got a great view of Rotten and Sid. Sid had his jacket off for most of the gig. It was really loud so you couldn't tell if Sid was playing or not, but it looked like he was, there was no goading with the crowd or anything, he was well out of it, but he seemed to be playing along. There was quite a lot of banter with the audience. I remember there was this one bloke there, can't remember his name but he was this tall blond bloke who was lead singer of The Jerks who was quite well known around the Leeds punk circuit. He was a real poser and I think Rotten had his eye on him. He was right at the front and Rotten kept making these snide remarks at him. I thought he was going to smack him at one point. One thing I really remember (laughing) was a few songs in, Steve Jones walked up to the mic in between two songs and shouts "Right then, who wants to suck me' cock!". All these blokes started shouting like "Yeah, me, me!" Jones was just like stepping back waving his arms going "No, no blokes, just women!". We were pissing ourselves laughing! I really wish I'd kept some of the paraphernalia because there were these huge posters all over the place that people were ripping off the walls before and after the gig. I kept my ticket too for years but that got lost somewhere. Q - Anything else? A - To be honest it was the 2nd time I'd seen the Pistols and I remember the Anarchy gig a lot more. It was a totally different atmosphere. It was December 6th, just a few days after the Grundy thing. They achieved tremendous notoriety very quickly, really hyped up, it was all so new. It put an awful lot of people off going but it also attracted people like me, I was 18 then. The atmosphere at that gig was amazing. If I had to say which was the better of the two gigs I'd have to say the Leeds gig. "ROLLING
STONE" MAGAZINE, MARCH 9, 1978 WINTERLAND,
SAN FRANSISCO January 14th, 1978 The
Sex Pistols left behind more history than music, but on their final night the
music lived up to the history. * The first thing that struck me, not a minute
into their show, was how much stronger the Pistols sounded onstage than on their
records. The music was all bite: you could reach out and touch every jagged note.
It was Steve Jones - somehow revitalizing every stance in the English book while
sounding as if he were playing a guitar factory instead of a mere guitar - and
drummer Paul Cook who made the noise, and together they were likely the only great
two-man band in the history of rock & roll. Sid Vicious used his bass as a
prop; spraying the crowd with spit, beer and mucus, he looked like an English
Charlie Starkweather. With one arm taped from wrist to bicep (Vicious was to OD
twice that week), he was there to bait the crowd. * Not that the band wasn't ready to make more. They had planned to hit Brazil immediately after the U.S.A.: their opening act would have been one Ronald Biggs, reading poetry. Ronald Biggs was a member of the gang that pulled off the Great Train Robbery. ©Phil
Singleton / www.sex-pistols.net 2000/2001/2002/2003/2004/2005/2006 | |
The story began March 18, 1996. After months, nay years, of speculation,
the announcement was made. That lovable group of no good low lifes, equally vilified
& celebrated, were back, the Sex Pistols. Yes, they were older, fatter, skint.
Yes, Society's Protectorate were not amused, & yes, even some rock 'n' roll
purists were offended, ("it won't be the same as in 1977"). Whatever, the Press
were full of it. They made "News At Ten". The Sex Pistols are still news.
Still sell. Bottom line. Like it or not. 
They
looked the part as well. Johnny Rotten, determined not to disappoint, had a new
hair-do on show. Easy to copy. Shave sides, dye green, spike a la Bart Simpson.
A check suit completed the ensemble. Steve Jones, guitar, L.A. rock ligger, bleached
hair & leopardskin lame trousers. Paul Cook, reliable, steady behind his Union
Jack drum kit. Glen Matlock, bass, appearing not to have aged during the 19 intervening
years between his Pistols duties, casual in jeans & T-shirt. 
I
first heard Anarchy in the U.K. on Swedish radio in November 1976. It sent shivers
down my spine, and I became a Pistols fan from that day on. My friend, being Norwegian
and not so steady on either the English or Danish language, had recorded it on
a cassette. He thought the band was Danish, until I pointed out to him that this
was the most genuine British rock I had ever heard. The radio presenter finished
off with the following words; "That was the Sex Pistols. And who knows; maybe
they represent something new in rock music?"
"Fucking
stop throwing bottles", Lydon remarked - more angry this time. He also threatened
to leave the stage if the security in front of the stage didn't stop the mischiefs.
Then came another shower of bottles. "Fuck this. I warned you. That's it,"
announced Lydon as he walked off the stage with the rest of the band. Their performance
was over, after only four songs. Although very disappointed, I could understand
the bands point of view. Security in front of the stage was appalling.
Story
one. I'm 41 now but in 1977 I was 17, living
in Stourbridge, and the Sex Pistols were the most important band ever. And they
rarely toured, if they did they'd go out under assumed names (Tax Exiles, Acne
Ramble etc), and the local councils would decimate their dates, so it was fucking
impossible to see them. On Thursdays, the NME and Sounds came out and I'd read
them at the back of my maths class in the morning: that week, the inside page
of Sounds said that the Pistols were going On Tour Secretly and, although they
weren't publishing the dates for fear of cancellations, fans in Coventry, Birkenhead,
Cromer, Huddersfield, etc etc,. and Wolverhampton. should check their local press.
Now Wolverhampton is a bus ride away - I HAVE to go to the gig. So I bought a
local paper in the dinner hour and scoured through the small ads looking for "SPOTS"
but there, bold as brass was a tiny half-inch ad saying "Sex Pistols Wolverhampton
Lafayettes 18th December". So I hit the library to find out where
the Laf was, got the number and rang the Club to find out the prices. The gig
was next Sunday, you needed to be a member of their over-18's Sunday Club (I've
still got the membership card) and the tickets were £1.75.
IVANHOES,
HUDDERSFIELD 25th December '77 
Q
- So what do you remember about the gig?
On
the last stop of the Sex Pistols' first American tour, they took on almost as
many people - over 5000 - as they faced in Atlanta, Memphis, Baton Rouge, Dallas,
San Antonio and Tulsa put together. They held the stage for an hour: four days
later, they blew apart. It may be that the Pistols' only alternative to the future
the rock & roll world had imagined for them - a future devoid if imagination,
a future made up of the rock & roll rewards and penalties they had set out
to deny - was to quit the scene; that or a plane crash.
What
was most surprising about Johnny Rotten was his intelligence: intelligence you
could read most clearly in his eyes - he might have been a kid out of Village
of the Damned seventeen years later - but also in the way he used his body. He
slumped like Quasimodo; he cut through the curtain of objects hitting the stage
and the band (ice, cups, shoes, coins, pins and probably rocks) with a twist of
his neck. He hung onto the mike as if he were in a wind tunnel, about to be blown
off the stage.