Punk It Up (I'm a Sex Pistol Man Oh Yeah!)

Malcolm McLaren: screenshot taken from the video for 

'Punk It Up' (dir. Ian Gabriel): click here. 

A Sex Pistol - that's what I am / I punk it up / I'm a Sex Pistol Man, oh yeah!

 

 

I. 

 

These days, we're all supposed to agree that the Sex Pistols were a four-piece punk rock band fronted by the presiding genius of Johnny Rotten and that they existed from late 1975 through to January 1978, during which time they recorded and released four singles and one perfect album. 

 

But that's not a narrative I subscribe to or go along with. 

 

For me, the Sex Pistols was always a much wider, more interesting and more radical project, conceived by Malcolm McLaren, involving fashion and politics as well as music, and supported by a number of brilliant individuals, including Vivienne Westwood and Jamie Reid, who had no performing role within the group. 

 

For me, the project begins in the spring of 1974 when McLaren and Westwood refurbish their store at 430 King's Road and rebrand it as SEX and Jordan is the original face of punk long before John Lydon ever reared his ugly head. 

 

For me, The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (Virgin Records 1979) is, in many respects, a far more challenging and daring album than Never Mind the Bollocks (Virgin Records 1977) and it should be remembered by those punk purists who insist that the latter is the only true album, that the former featured some of the Sex Pistols' greatest hits [1] - just as the film of that title provided some of the most memorable moments in the Sex Pistols story [2]. 

 

And for me, the last Sex Pistols track doesn't appear on either of these albums and doesn't involve any members of the band who went under that name. Written by McLaren and Trevor Horn, and featuring Zulu musicians and backing singers, the track can be found on McLaren's debut solo album, Duck Rock (Charisma Records, 1983) ...

 

II.

 

'Punk It Up' resulted when McLaren spent a few weeks recording material for Duck Rock in South Africa and was asked by the locals to recount stories from his time as manager of the Sex Pistols, much to their delight and amusement:      

"'They couldn't believe when I told them about causing chaos across the land, taking hundreds of thousands of pounds from gullible record companies and sticking a safety pin through the Queens' lips [...] By the end of the story the Zulus were laughing and cheering [...]'" [3]

 

As Paul Gorman rightly says, whilst McLaren refused to allow his central role in the story of the Sex Pistols define him, he was always happy to look back on this period of his life and career and discuss it at length. And so, encouraged by the response to his storytelling, he wrote lyrics for the song 'Punk It Up' and affirmed that, at heart, he remained a Sex Pistol. 

 

'Punk It Up' is a brilliant track - full of joy, full of sunshine, full of chaos, and full of magic; elements that define McLaren's unique vision of post-punk that quickly moved from piracy to paganism and celebrated (amongst others) hobos, hillbillies, and hip hoppers. It almost makes 'Anarchy in the UK' seem a bit provincial ...

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The double A-sided single coupling 'Something Else' with 'Friggin' in the Riggin'' was the only Sex Pistols single to sell more than a quarter of a million copies.  

 

[2] I'm thinking here, for example, of Sid's performance of 'My Way', about which I have written here. 

 

[3] Malcolm McLaren quoted by Paul Gorman in The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren (Constable, 2020), p. 291.  

But Malcolm, They'll Not Be Able to Find It ...

Fig. 1: Sex Pistols: Anarchy in the U.K. (EMI, 1976)  

Fig. 2: Kazimir Malevich: Black Square (1915) 

 

 

I.

 

It's hard to resist loving a paper that explores the links between punk, nihilism, politics and the arts, such as the one delivered by Ian Trowell at the Torn Edges symposium at the London College of Communication a few days ago [1].

 

Kazimir Malevich and Malcolm McLaren; Suprematism, Situationism, and the Sex Pistols - what's not to love? 

 

I don't want to say it was the best presentation on the day, but it was probably the one I enjoyed the most - and if Trowell had only thought to entitle his work 'Don't Be (Black) Square Be There', I would've loved it (and him) even more [2].

 

 

II.

 

Perhaps unsurprisingly to torpedophiles, the aspect of the talk that most excited concerned the plain black sleeve that 'Anarchy in the U.K.' - the Sex Pistols' debut single - was originally issued in on 26 November, 1976. 

I figure that McLaren would be more than familiar with Malevich's suprematist masterpiece painted sixty years earlier, though don't know if this directly inspired the 'Anarchy' packaging, or if, as Paul Gorman says, the insistence on such a sleeve was simply in line with McLaren's own aesthetic, as seen in his portraits of the 1960s and the clothes designs produced with Vivienne Westwood for Sex [3]. 

 

Either way, it was a great idea for a sleeve; one that not only captures the anarcho-nihilism of the band, but affirms the colour with the greatest symbolic resonance and meaning. 

 

And when EMI executives complained that an all black sleeve with no identifying information would make it extremely difficult for fans to find it in the record stores, Malcolm smiled and said: I don't want them to find it ... [4]

 

Notes

 

[1] Ian Trowell is an independent researcher and author exploring themes of popular culture and ideas around myth and memory. His presentation at Torn Edges was entiled '"Anarchy in the UK', 'Black Square', and Pop Nihilism: Exploring the Links between Punk, Nihilism, Suprematism and Situationism". 'Further details of this event and of the other speakers can be found here. Trowell's recently published book - Throbbing Gristle: An Endless Discontent (Intellect Books, 2023) - can be purchased here.

 

[2] The fact that he was wearing an Adam and the Ants T-shirt on the day makes it even more surprising to me that Trowell didn't think of this title. Still, never mind - the presentation was all good clean fun (whatever that means).*  

[3] See Paul Gorman, The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren (Constable, 2020), p. 331. Gorman goes on to say that McLaren was also thinking of the infamous 'black page' in Laurence Sterne's Tristram Shandy (1759-67).

 

[4] There were only a couple of thousand copies of 'Anarchy in the U.K.' issued in the black sleeve; after that, it was sold in the standard EMI sleeve with a hole in the middle so the label information could easily be read. 

      The record reached number 38 in the official UK Singles Chart, before being withdrawn by EMI following the Bill Grundy Incident (1 Dec 1976). The Sex Pistols were eventually fired from EMI on 6 January 1977, but they kept their £40,000 advance and had the last laugh when they included the track E.M.I. on Never Mind the Bollocks (Virgin Records, 1977). 

      To watch the band perform the single 'Anarchy in the U.K.' on the BBC's early evening current affairs show Nationwide (recorded 11 Nov 1976 and broadcast the following day), click here.

 

  

* I'm referring here - for those who don't know - to a track by Adam and the Ants entitled 'Don't Be Square (Be There)', from the album Kings of the Wild Frontier (CBS Records, 1980): click here. You may not like it now, but you will ... 

I Wanna Destroy the Passerby (Notes on Johnny Rotten as Good Samaritan)

John Joseph Lydon 

(aged six)

I.

Just as Johnny Rotten's self-description as an anti-Christ is rooted in his ethnoreligious background as the son of Irish Catholic parents - and not, alas, in Nietzschean philosophy - so too does his ambition of wanting to destroy the passerby display traces of lessons learnt in Sunday school by a good little boy in shirt and tie; particularly, of course, the parable of the Good Samaritan, as told by Jesus in the Gospel of Luke (10: 25-37) ...

II.

As everyone knows, the story concerns an unfortunate individual travelling from Jerusalem to Jericho who is robbed, stripped, and severely beaten by a gang of thugs who leave him for dead by the roadside. First a priest, then a Levite, pass by, both choosing to ignore the injured man (perhaps concerned with their own cleanliness or safety; perhaps simply indifferent to suffering).

Finally, however, a Samaritan happens upon the victim of this brutal mugging and, full of compassion, he decides to stop and help, which, of course, is the right thing to do in the circumstances (if not always the most convenient). He attends to the man's wounds and then transports him to an inn where he continues to care for the fellow and, the next day, generously provides funds for his continued care by the innkeeper.

This, says Jesus, makes him the man's true neighbour (despite not being Jewish) and blessed in the eyes of the Lord. He recognises that he has a moral obligation to others; including strangers and even those who might be regarded as enemies.           

III.

Having said all this, it could be that Rotten is not preaching a creed of human solidarity, but, rather, showing his contempt for those who refuse to get involved or directy participate in events. This, actually, would seem to be closer to the do it yourself spirit of punk in which passivity was despised (audience members at a Sex Pistols gig were constantly berated by the singer until provoked into a response of some kind).
 

Like early Christianity (and, indeed, like fascism), punk obliges everyone to adopt a position and take a stand; it compels to action.      

Play: 'Anarchy in the U.K.', single release (EMI, 1976) by the Sex Pistols and found also on Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols (Virgin Records, 1977): click here. 

And to watch their classic performance of the song on So It Goes, in August 1976, click here. Note Rotten's instructing the audience to get off their arses at the beginning of the performance.  

And They Dance by the Light of the Moon ...

A Buffalo Gal as imagined by Mclaren and Westwood

 in their Nostalgia of Mud collection (1982/83) 

I.

Buffalo Gals is a popular 19th-century American folk song, written and published by the blackface minstrel John Hodges (aka Cool White) in 1844, although earlier versions are likely to have existed.

Contrary to what many people believe, the song doesn't refer to a particularly tough breed of cowgirl who hunted bison on the Great Plains. Rather, it refers to the dancing girls who performed in the many bars, concert halls, and brothels in the notorious Canal district of Buffalo, New York. 

However, the song continues to incite many imaginative interpretations. For example, some insist that it takes its inspiration from an old legend that tells of how the spirits of wild animals sometimes take the form of attractive young women, in order to seduce innocent cowboys sleeping beneath the stars.


II.

Unsurprisingly, when I hear the words Buffalo Gals, I also think of the 1982 single by Malcolm McLaren and the World's Famous Supreme Team, produced by Trevor Horn, that combines scratching with square dancing in a fabulously eccentric hip-hop manner - much to the horror of the record company bosses who were initially reluctant to release the track.        

In many ways, this song was more groundbreaking than Anarchy in the UK, helping as it did introduce hip-hop culture to a wider (whiter) audience; the video for the song not only featured breakdancing - courtesy of the Rock Steady Crew - but also showed rappers and graffiti artists in action.

Oh, and of course, it also featured models wearing McLaren and Westwood's latest fashions from their brilliant Nostalgia of Mud collection; a collection which attempted to show how haute couture and other aspects of Western culture retained primitive roots; or how even modernity essentially lives off the traditions it insists it has left behind.

Further, as Yvonne Gold, the make-up artist who worked on the McLaren-Westwood fashion shows, points out, the soft, unstructured tailoring with exposed seams that characterised the above collection was the antithesis of the yuppie power suit:   

"Buffalo girls wore hip-slung dirndl skirts over padded petticoats, with baby-sling-bags across their backs and hoodies topped with Buffalo hats, or T-shirt Grecian toga dresses with conical vintage satin bras worn over the top."

She continues: 

"The legacy of raw-edged, reversed-seamed sheepskin coats lives on as a classic, and wearing a hoodie under a tailored jacket or a bra as outerwear has become standard. The conceptual black painted strip mask is still seen on catwalks in infinite variations. Three and a half decades later, the iconic Buffalo hat has been revitalized by [musician] Pharrell, and you can find entire ensembles in the collections of international museums and individual collectors [...] keeping the Buffalo legacy alive."

It's such a pity, therefore, that the McLaren-Westwood design collaboration ended soon afterwards. We can only dream of what might have been, for whilst, obviously, we know how Westwood's career in fashion developed post-Malcolm, we don't know what sartorial innovations the latter would have produced had he continued working in the rag trade.*

* Having said that, see the astonishing post by Paul Gorman on McLaren's 'lost collection' intended to accompany his album Fans (1984): click here.

See: Yvonne Gold, 'Vivienne Westwood's Radically Chic Nostalgia of Mud', Another Magazine (15 March, 2016): click here to read online.

Play: Malcolm McLaren and the World's Famous Supreme Team, 'Buffalo Gals' (1982), single from the album Duck Rock (Charisma Records, 1983): click here. 

Carri on Sex Pistols (Comments on the Case of Joe Corré and His Bonfire of Punk)

Artwork by Jamie Reid 

(Virgin 1979)

I've been asked to comment on Joe Corré's decision to burn his valuable collection of Sex Pistols memorabilia on the River Thames last month in order to mark the 40th anniversary of the release of Anarchy in the UK, whilst, at the same time protest punk's commercial co-option. Obviously, there was a good deal of vanity and a certain selfishness in the stunt which, from what I've seen of it, all looked a bit naff. And - who knows? - perhaps Henry Rollins is right to suggest that it should ultimately be interpreted as an act of revenge by an angry son left out of his father's will.

But, having said all this, the amount of scorn and vitriol directed towards Corré by aged, self-righteous punks - including, of course, that man-mountain of hypocrisy, Johnny Rotten (rightly identified as The Collaborator all those years ago) - is surely undeserved. For if a man wants to burn his own bondage trousers (and his own inheritance) that's really his own business and ultimately hurts no one. I'm not sure Malcolm would have found the whole thing hilarious, as Corré suggests, but I doubt it'll have him spinning in his grave either.

I suspect rather, that, were he still alive, what Mclaren would have done is remind us of his own ingenious and far more provocative attempt to expose and destroy the legend and the legacy of the Sex Pistols in the aftermath of the band's spectacular implosion, after Rotten flounced off in search of artistic integrity and a more mainstream career in the music business.

Ultimately, Never Mind the Bollocks was just another rock 'n' roll album; conventional in every regard. Obviously, there are some unbelievably powerful tracks. But I'm tempted to say now that the greatest thing about it is the title and Jamie Reid's artwork.

Similarly, the really interesting aspect of the Sex Pistols' story is the point at which they become more than just another corny 4/4 beat combo. And it starts when Malcolm conceives of The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle and begins the process of not only destroying everything - including the loyalty and expectation of their own followers - but anticipating precisely what would happen next; the assimilation and marketing of punk.

Julian Temple's film opens with Malcolm and Helen burning all traces of the band's existence in the hope that they might somehow prevent their posthumous exploitation in the form of either collectable artefacts to be showcased in museums and expensive art galleries, or cheap merchandise churned out for easy consumption by gullible fans. The same film later reveals the forlorn nature of this hope; if you like their pop music, you'll love their pop corn - it's pure punk!  

What I'm arguing, in short, is that Joseph Corré's rather feeble gesture was unnecessary; his father had alerted us in 1979 to fact that the Sex Pistols were by then no more than a brand name and that Bambi was already being butchered.         


Note: those interested in watching film of Corré's stunt should click here.