Love them or hate them: The Sex Pistols are unquestionably one of the most groundbreaking acts in the history of popular music, leaving an everlasting impression on culture, music, and fashion.
The genesis of the band can be traced to 1974, when Steve Jones (vocals) and Paul Cook (drums) approached Malcolm McLaren to manage the band they played in, called The Strand. McLaren did get involved, but got serious after returning from a short stay in New York in early 1975. Inspired by the punk scene that was emerging in Lower Manhattan – in particular by the Ramones, Television, and the radical visual style and attitude of Richard Hell – he rang some changes. Glen Matlock had been recruited on bass, and Steve Jones made the switch from vocals to guitar.
They had to search for a while for a new frontman. Johnny Rotten (John Lydon) was found in August 1975, wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt with “I hate” handwritten above the band name. His audition was singing along to Alice Cooper’s I’m Eighteen on a jukebox, and even though his rendition had the band members in stitches, McLaren convinced them to start rehearsing with Rotten. The band was born.
If we go by the media writings of the day, we’d be excused for thinking that Punk almost seemed to be an overnight sensation when it started getting momentum by late 1976. A lot of people were no doubt taken by surprise when the punk movement sprang into the mainstream, but if you had your ear to the ground in London around 1974-75 you could already hear it happening. You could go to a pub or a local club and hear many unknown – and often very young – musicians pump out adequate and basic garage rock. They were going back to their roots and doing so with more unbridled enthusiasm than skill.
Contrary to popular belief, their manager and mentor Malcolm McLaren was not out to revolutionise anything. He just wanted to make money – nothing more, nothing less. Rock’n’roll just happened to be the quickest way he saw to make it happen.
McLaren’s stroke of genius was that he set out to create a monster. He knew that controversy made cash, and the Sex Pistols was always set up to create headlines and be noticed. They were the Monkees from hell – not a totally random comparison, as they later actually covered the Monkees’ hit (I’m Not) Your Stepping Stone and sounded pretty darn good doing it.
Given the size of their impact and their ongoing cultural importance, it is amazing that they only ever released one studio album: Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols. When it was released on 28 October 1977 it went straight to #1 in the UK album charts. This wasn’t really a surprise to anyone, as the controversy and press hype surrounding the band had been at peak level for quite a while already. The album went gold a few weeks later and remained a bestseller for over a year with over 60 weeks in the Top 25.
The album is a classic for a reason. It captured the attitude from 1977 (a.k.a. the summer of punk), which still is alive and well in the grooves of this album. The songs aren’t bad either, with a select few even being beyond great.
At the same time, the listening experience is somewhat inconsistent. The four single a-sides are clear peaks, and it is possible to hear that a lot of the rest was made a while later. Their singles are downright incredible. Anyone who were around when the band first unleashed their music at the world will primarily remember them as a singles band. During the year before the album arrived, they released four amazing singles between 26 November 1976 and 14 October 1977 – each of them unleashing a tidal wave of controversy, shock and horror – or delight, if you liked them – throughout their country.
If you looked beyond the shock value and hype, you would see that the four singles reveal a band with an incredible knack for creating amazing three-minute gems. The band never shone brighter than on their four singles Anarchy In the UK, God Save the Queen, Pretty Vacant and Holidays In the Sun.
In fact, when the album finally came it was all starting to settle down. The world had started to expect that kind of stuff from them. It was starting to become business as usual, with their ability to shock (if not their ability to outrage) was dwindling. The true musical and cultural legacy of the Sex Pistols are the singles they made and the intense impact they all had upon their release. They still shine with undiminished power.
Their success happened both in spite of and because of their notoriety. Their reputation was built on a diet of outrageous statements in mainstream media, swearing on prime time TV, being signed and then fired from two record labels, their gigs descending into chaos and arrests, being banned from playing in most parts of England, loud music, and provocative lyrics.
During all of this, they amazingly dabbled in music as well. The first release from the band was the single Anarchy In the U.K. on 26 November 1976. The country went into collective shock when they heard Johnny Rotten sneer “I am the anti-Christ, and I am an anarchist” in the opening lines. The song was an extremely potent mix of rock’n’roll mixed with pure opposition to everything and anything. The song itself is extremely powerful. As a single it was downright explosive.
This would be their only release on EMI. The label was not sure that the type of attention garnered by the song was welcome, and they would soon get a reason/excuse to unceremoniously drop the band. This happened after a media storm caused by band members using excessive profanity during a prime time live television interview with Bill Grundy.
Bill Grundy was the host of Thames Television’s Today programme. The 1 December 1976 episode was supposed to have Queen as guests, but Freddie Mercury had developed a toothache and needed a dental appointment. Some last-minute guests were needed, and for some reason, The Sex Pistols were booked. None of the parties knew what they were in for.
Pistols bassist Glen Matlock says the band weren’t keen on being dragged out of rehearsals but had their arm twisted. “We very nearly didn’t do it,” he said. “This big limousine turned up outside this place. Being punk rockers we were like: ‘We’re not getting in that thing…’ Then this phone call came through from Malcolm McLaren saying: ‘If you don’t do it your wages will be stopped this week.’ We were all in the car like a shot.”
The band were offered drinks as they waited in the Green Room to go on air. Not that they were necessarily that drunk. Although Grundy introduced the band as being “more drunk than I am”, Grundy doesn’t seem under the influence either.
The interview started badly, with Grundy challenging the group’s anti-materialistic credentials – they had, after all, just accepted a £40,000 advance from EMI. “We’ve fucking spent it, ain’t we?” says Steve Jones, but Grundy either didn’t hear or let that one slide.
For context: in 1976 you just didn’t hear the word ‘fuck’ on TV in Britain. It had only happened twice before on British TV, which led questions to be raised in Parliament as a result. It was a huge and very serious deal.
Shortly after, Rotten let the word “shit” slip out, apparently accidentally. Grundy asked him to repeat it, but Rotten tries to move on. Grundy won’t let it go and gets the reprise he was asking for.
He then engaged in repartee with Siouxsie Sioux, who was also a guest. She declared that she had always wanted to meet him. Grundy responded, “Did you really? We’ll meet afterwards, shall we?” This prompted the legendary exchange between Jones and the host:
Jones: You dirty sod. You dirty old man.
Grundy: Well keep going, chief, keep going. Go on. You’ve got another five seconds. Say something outrageous!
Jones: You dirty bastard.
Grundy: Go on, again.
Jones: You dirty fucker.
Grundy: What a clever boy.
Jones: What a fucking rotter.
And then the show was over. Grundy seems to realise what has happened as he turns to the camera and tries to close the show in a normal manner. He politely thanks the audience for watching and says he will see them again soon. Then he turns to the band, saying “but I hope I’m not seeing you again!”
It cannot be overstated how big the fallout was. Although the programme was broadcast only in the London region, the ensuing furore occupied the tabloid newspapers for days. The Daily Mirror famously ran the headline “The Filth and the Fury!” and also asked “Who are these punks?” Other papers such as the Daily Express (“Fury at Filthy TV Chat”) and the Daily Telegraph (“4-Letter Words Rock TV”) followed suit. Thames Television suspended Grundy and, though he was later reinstated, the interview effectively ended his career.
Prior to this, punk rock was a scene that was ignored by the newspapers. It was a tiny movement that had not troubled the Top 10 at all, let alone entered the national consciousness. All of that changed instantly on 1 December 1976. After that show had been transmitted live, everybody knew what punk rock was. The episode made the band household names throughout the country and brought punk into mainstream awareness.
This gave new life to the Anarchy single, and the following tour saw intense media coverage. That would be the norm for the remaining 13 months of their career.
During this time, in February 1977, Glen Matlock left the band (or was fired, depending on the narrative) over creative differences. His departure was deeply felt on a musical level as he was the key songwriter with a real musical mind. A contemporary report (given to news outlets by Malcolm McLaren) stated that he was ‘thrown out’ of the band because he ‘liked The Beatles.’ Years later, it turned out all band members liked The Beatles.
It says a lot that McLaren picked a replacement for Matlock who couldn’t play, couldn’t write, and had no musical skills whatsoever. Sid Vicious may have looked the part, but teaching him which parts to play was a heavy chore. Vicious was primarily picked for his image to give the band a PR boost, and it worked. Vicious became a media darling and even a punk icon. His appointment also announced the band’s demise as a musical force.
Matlock had written a lot of material, though, and left enough behind to keep the show on the road for the rest of the year. His ideas combined with Steve Jones’ monstrous guitar sound and Johnny Rotten’s spiteful lyrical tirades created their biggest classics.
When they released their second single God Save the Queen on 27 May 1977 it made it to #2 on the UK singles chart as used by the BBC. Or is that correct? There were very strong accusations from many quarters that the chart had been rigged to keep the song from that #1 slot. This is not at all unlikely, given the wish to not offend the Queen and the British people during the silver jubilee. The song was widely regarded as an assault on Queen Elizabeth II and the monarchy, and its equation of the queen with a “fascist regime” in particular was highly controversial.
Still, dominating sales were reported in key stores all over the country, despite the song being banned by the BBC and the major retailers. It was a clear #1 on the NME charts and several independent ones, and nobody really doubts that the #1 position was stolen from the band. Even the song’s #2 position was represented in the charts with a blank line, which proves that they would go to any lengths to make it appear that the song didn’t exist. Due to its BBC ban, the song was not performed on Top of the Pops either.
This meant that the band’s first Top of the Pops performance was for their third single Pretty Vacant, which also did very well on the charts, making it to #6. The performance gained attention for Johnny Rotten’s phrasing of the word “vacant,” emphasising the last syllable to sound like the word “cunt.” Still, the song was another incredible slice of melodic dynamite which made it clear that the band just couldn’t be dismissed as a musical force.
Their final single was Holidays In the Sun, released shortly before the album came out in October 1977 and charted at #8. Less outrageous in title and overall expression than their previous singles primarily because it had to be – there may have been nowhere left to go – it was still a good finale to the quartet of singles.
It was also one of the first track written without Matlock’s input, but we have an idea of which sources gave them a bit of help. Bruce Foxton has always claimed that the Pistols stole that riff from the song In the City by his band The Jam. This isn’t unlikely – Steve Jones was good at developing and refining other people’s ideas.
By the time the band went into the studio to record a full album, they were no longer a united force. They struggled to find inspiration, they struggled with each other, they struggled with their status as Enemies of the People, and they struggled with McLaren’s continual input. The fun had started to disappear.
A lot of the material on Never Mind the Bollocks was built on sketches and ideas written by Glen Matlock before he had quit/been fired. Matlock was even offered to play on the album as a studio musician. He demanded to see the money first, but they didn’t have anything to offer but the offer of future royalties and he turned them down. Who knows if he regretted that later.
Sid Vicious was very keen to play on the album and even rehearsed (!), but he was utterly useless and was asked to sit out most of the sessions, only playing bass on Bodies. The bass line is simple and the song fierce, so he did manage to get by on piss and vinegar alone.
With no capable bass player they could no longer record the basic tracks live like they did on the first singles. The songs would have to be built from the bottom up, with the basic tracks performed live with Steve Jones on bass and Paul Cook on drums. Jones would then add his signature sound of walls of guitars over the songs until he was happy, leaving Rotten to cackle over them as he pleased.
Johnny Rotten was the perfect voice for that band. He delivered the lyrics with the exact right amounts of arrogant defiance and provocative sneer. It was impossible to ignore him. You either loved him or hated him.
Never Mind the Bollocks is a classic album in spite of its lack of consistency. It is noticeable that it has been recorded over a bit of time with different people involved and different levels of energy. The singles shine with an inner energy and a sharp focus that had started to dwindle when the band – minus Matlock – had to come up with enough tracks to fill an album.
Let it be said, though, that when they were truly fired up about something, the band still came through even on the new material. E.M.I., for example, remains a very powerful (and funny!) musical middle finger to the first record company that signed them and dropped them. If could have been released as a single and stood proudly amongst the other ones.
The album was critiqued for including all four singles. Singles were not always included on albums back in the day, but doing so was smart in a longer term perspective. Without the singles tracks the album would have been a considerably weaker effort. It is an open question whether the band had more songwriting gunpowder in their sack. Would they have four other quality songs to replace them with? They never managed to prove that they had. Including those tracks have also meant that future record buyers had the best tracks available, which helped put the album on a level worthy of the legend and notoriety of the band.
The album title in itself – especially the word “bollocks” – was (of course) found offensive, with many record stores refusing to carry it. Some record charts also refused to list its title, showing just a blank space instead. This time, however, it was impossible for the powers that be to prevent or hide the chart showing of #1.
When the album finally arrived on 28 October 1977, the band were tired. It had been a herculean effort for them to finish the recordings, and they entered the peak of their decline as a united group. The fun was ebbing out, and in many ways the band had made their statements. They had paved the way for bands like The Clash, Skids, The Jam, and countless others – new, strong names that would take the movement onward and develop it further on their own terms.
There was no way that any of the bands that followed in their footsteps could outdo the Pistols on the same terms. A new song in 1978 just wouldn’t quite be able to give people the same mixture of utter shock and/or kick that their first single Anarchy In the U.K. had done at the end of 1976. It would also be impossible for any band to recreate the collective media fury that God Save the Queen had caused during the summer of 1977 – in the middle of the Queen’s silver jubilee, no less. Timing had been on the Pistols’ side.
The Sex Pistols probably knew that this extended to themselves as well. They would probably never be able to outdo themselves. The outrage at first had been genuine. Do you keep trying to outrage? Where does it end? They could not – and were not willing to – keep going the way they had. Was there a way for them to settle into being a ‘normal’ band? What would that even be like?
The Sex Pistols were one heck of a great rock’n’roll band. There is also no doubt that towards the end, they wanted to and had to implode. There are limits to how long you can deliver that level of quality within such extreme conditions. The band was living on a draining diet of conflict. They were in a conflict with media, with a large part of the general public, with their record labels, with their manager, and with each other.
Part of the Pistols package had been their unrelenting stomping on everything that people held dear. Nothing was off-limits. They’d had a go at Christianity, the Royal family, holocaust, the democracy – pretty much everything. Their scream for anarchy shook Britain to the core. What you don’t understand, you fear. When your core values are attacked, you get angry and push back. The fact that young people everywhere were so keen to join the crusade only added to the aggravation and made the band a bigger threat.
The 50th anniversary of the album is – incredibly! – starting to glimmer in the distance. All these years later, relatively far removed from all the controversies and happenings of its time, it is perhaps easier to judge the album based on its musical merits alone. This was near impossible in 1977, but today it’s easy to conclude that the album still more than holds up. The peaks are so high that even a dip on some songs still leave them well within the needed levels of quality to name it a classic. The Pistols in their first incarnation knew how to write songs and play them for best effect, and had a strong and unique sound. It is worth noting that unlike so many Punk bands, the Pistols never really played that fast. The music is so powerful that it gives the impression that they are speeding along, but they were totally in control, and instinctively knew to hold back on the tempo.
The four of them would admittedly never have found each other had it not been for Malcolm McLaren. He created them, but he really had no idea about the potency of what he had put together. That was in any case out of his hands. That colossal wall of sound, that distinct power pushing from the bottom up, the overdrive, Rotten’s manic sneering… there is a total package that still sounds like nothing else. The guys in the band invented that themselves, before they imploded with their flag held high.
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