Russ Bestley: 'Turning Revolt Into Style' (2025): Notes on Chapters 1-2

A Gentleman and a Punk Scholar [a]

Stephen Alexander à la Jamie Reid (2025) 

 

I. 

 

Russ Bestley's new book, Turning Revolt Into Style (2025), is divided into eight chapters and an Introduction that I discussed here.   

 

In this post, I will offer some remarks on Chapter 1, which introduces the notion of punk graphic design and its core themes, and Chapter 2, which "interrogates the range of design methods that were utilised in response to these punk thematic ideals" [b]. 

 

 

II. 

 

"Punk's original premise ..." [24] - did punk ever really have such? 

 

I suppose one might regard sex, style, and subversion as a thematic slogan - and punk was as accomplished at sloganeering as it was at political posturing and posing for the cameras - but I'd hesitate before speaking of a punk premise when punk was far from being a coherent philosophy or aesthetic and "simply an umbrella term that could be applied to an eclectic and disparate range of activity" [24] [c]. 

 

Still, let's not get get bogged down with the opening three words of the first chapter and broadly agree with Bestley that punk's core themes were "provocation, individuality, novelty, directness, honesty and authenticity" [25-26] and that these things were reflected in the sound and look of punk. 

 

And let's remember that Bestley is a graphic designer, not a philosopher; i.e., he's someone concerned with a "range of physical, designed objects" including "flyers, posters, photographs, clothing, badges, fanzines and record covers" [26] rather than with language, with which he seems to have an unproblematic relationship.

 

Bestley is not a bad writer. But he is an assured writer: one for whom words possess clear meanings and are used straightforwardly to convey information as concisely and precisely as possible.

 

However, whilst it's good to think in a material manner (in terms of objects), that shouldn't mean one fails to think also in a more abstract or symbolic manner (in terms of ideas); a good writer understands that language might move beyond being merely communicative in a narrow, functional manner and become a medium in which we can construct new thoughts [d].  

 

 

III. 

 

This seems an important point: 

 

"The diversity of punk graphic design styles and aesthetics needs to be understood in relation to three loosely defined groups of visual practitioners ..." [27] - amateurs; up-and-coming designers (often out of art school); and established design professionals. 

 

If it was "the simplicity of the lo-tech, handmade flyers produced by Helen Wellington-Lloyd and Jamie Reid for the Sex Pistols, along with an underground revolution in homemade fanzines and other printed ephemera produced by inspired and enthusiastic fans [...] that kickstarted a punk design aesthetic" [28], it was, by contrast, "the hugely influential work of professional art directors and designers [...] that helped it reach a mainstream audience" [28].

 

And this, for me at least, is an interesting point: Reid's ransome note typography for his work with the Sex Pistols was not widely copied or "commonly used on record covers for other punk artists" [34], even whilst it was soon recognised as visual shorthand for punk. Bestley writes:

 

"The success - and notoriety - of the Sex Pistols [...] was a double-edged sword: on the one hand, punk was beginning to develop a recognisable set of visual styles, largely centred on Reid's work [...] At the same time, largely due to its powerful visual impact, ransom note typography [...] quickly became symbolic of early UK punk in the mainstream media and therefore a cliché to be best avoided unless the designer's intention was to make a parodic comment on the commercial exploitation of the new subculture." [37]

 

This makes me wonder about my continued use of Reid-inspired graphics as in the God Save ... poster featuring Bestley above. Is it possible for something that has been assimilated by the mainstream culture - Reid's work is found in collections all over the world, including the National Portrait Gallery and the V&A here in the UK - to be reclaimed? 

 

In other words, can the recuperated punk image be subject to a technique of détournement?    

 

 

IV. 

 

"The inclusion of a photograph of the group - standard practice in the pop music market going back to the 1950s - is prevalant in many early punk record sleeves, though the convention was rejected by some groups, including the Sex Pistols ..." [37]

 

Other punk groups displayed no such qualms with having their ugly mugs plastered on record covers and before long there was a standard picture; band members standing in a gritty urban environment trying to look menacing "and graphically treated to render a high contrast, distressed or distorted image" [40]. 

 

As punk became ever-more commodified and commercialised, "by far the most common visual trope in the depiction of a punk rock group is the band lined-up against a brick or concrete wall" [41] - see the Clash, for example, on the cover of their eponymous debut album (1977) [e], or posing as rebel rockers on the front of Sandinista! (1980).  

 

And some people still think of them as the only band that matters ...!

 

 

V.

 

"Punk was no erudite ideological critique ..." [51] 

 

Well, that's certainly true; "most punk discourse was rhetorical and performative" [51], though McLaren and Westwood may have fancied they had something of political importance to say and they provided punk with "an appropriately anatgonistic" [51] language and look drawn from various sources, promiscuously and irresponsibly "mixing symbols of insurrection and revolution" [52] with images drawn from popular culture and pornography. 

      

And better their playful politics of provocation and art school pranksterism, surely, than the militant asceticism of bands like Crass, or, on the other side of the fence, the politics of those punks who supported far-right movements and replaced witty intelligent lyrics with a grunted two-letter interjection.    

 

 

VI. 

 

And speaking of art school pranksterism ...

 

Bestley makes the fair point that "while Malcolm McLaren and Jamie Reid had indeed caught the late 1960s zeitgeist and attempted to engage with the then current ideas of the Situationists [...] while at art college [...] the suggestion of substantive links between participants in the wider punk scene and the work of earlier art groups is less convincing" [57]. 

 

That's why, one might argue, the Sex Pistols interest and excite far more than most of the artless and ideologically clueless punk bands that followed. I know many sneered at those who played along with the art school boys - including Rotten - but I don't have much time for such philistine and reactionary stupidity disguised as "working-class politics and street level 'authenticity'" [58]. Ultimately, where would we be without creative intellectuals such as cousin Kevin? [f]

 

 

VII. 

 

DIY: to tell the truth, I've always hated this three-letter initialism and the kind of people who spend their weekends in B&Q, priding themselves on being able to turn their hand to all sorts of job, even though do-it-yourself was an oft-repeated punk mantra and core ethic even among "many groups and artists signed to major labels and operating in the mainstream music industry" [59].  

 

I suppose, I've always been intrigued by the aristocratic (anti-utilitarian) idea that one attains sovereignty not by doing things for oneself, but by not doing anything and by refusing to be a useful or productive human being [g]. 

 

Knowing how to operate a photocopier or printing press does not a scarlet poppy make you ...     

 

 

VIII. 

 

The appropriation of visual material (including found images) and "the use of détournement as a subversive method" [78] is something I very much admire about punk graphic design and artwork. And so is the deployment of humour:

 

"Beneath all the rhetoric and 'shocking' behaviour, the early punk scene in the United Kingdom displayed a deep-seated ironic intelligence [...] The scene was [...] deeply self-aware and parodic, with a keen sense of the absurdity of its own rebellion ..." [84]

 

Bestley continues:

 

"Punk's embrace of parody, pastiche and irony was played out in lyrics, dress, interviews, artwork and music. These kind of strategies were not unfamiliar to artists and designers [...] The long tradition of satirical insurrection, from Dada to Duchamp, the Surrealists to the Situationist International, offered a rich resource for punk graphic designers and visual communicators to plunder." [84]   

 

As I argued in a post published on 28 February 2025 - click here - fun is not only a vital component of playfulness (i.e., hedonic engagement with the world), but it can also help one avoid what Wilde terms humanity's original sin, i.e., self-seriousness [h].  

 

I think it's crucial therefore to stress that punk was essentially a revolution for fun and that the Sex Pistols embodied a notion of the ridiculous, the most crucial aspect of which is that it solicits, incites, or provokes laughter [i]. 

 

To quote once more from Bestley: "While the notion of détournement suggests a politically charged, subversive intent, much punk graphic design appropriation was simply playful and witty ..." [86]  

 

 

IX. 

 

And finally ... 

 

One of the defining characteristics of post-punk, writes Bestley, was the fact that they attempted to operate withing "a wider and more sophisticated musical and visual arena" [99]; i.e., to "raise the intellectual bar away from 'outdated' and inarticulate punk themes and into an aspirational new decade" [99].  

 

Personally, however, I preferred Bow Wow Wow to Joy Division; post-punk pirates to post-punk miserabilists ...   

 

 

Notes

 

[a] Russ Bestley is a Reader in Graphic Design & Subcultures at London College of Communication. 

      He is also Lead Editor of the academic journal Punk & Post-Punk, Series Editor and Art Director for the Global Punk book series published by Intellect Books, a founding member of the Punk Scholars Network, and head of the Subcultures Interest Group at UAL. His research archive can be accessed at hitsvilleuk.com.  

 

[b] Russ Bestley, Turning Revolt Into Style, (Manchester University Press, 2025), p. 19. All future page references to this text will be given directly in the post.  

 

[c] I discuss the problematic term punk in the notes made on the Introduction to Turning Revolt Into Style - click here - and in a post published on 13 March 2025: click here. For me, the term wasn't quickly co-opted - it was itself the linguistic means of co-option; a way to overcode, simplify, and negate. As Bestley notes, the term punk allowed a "reflective metanarrative" [29] to develop as well as a new youth market.  

      Bestley's use of the term umbrella is perhaps more appropriate than he realises. For I would suggest that what the Sex Pistols attempted to do was cut a hole in the great umbrella erected betweeen ourselves and the forever surging chaos of existence (we mean by umbrella our ideals, our conventions, and fixed forms of every description). 

      The Sex Pistols were essentially cultural terrorists; the enemy of human security and comfort. But no matter how many times they managed to make a tiny hole in the painted underside of the Umbrella, along came other bands to ensure things were speedily repaired. And the majority of us, if we're honest, prefer a patched-up reality to the sheer intensity of lived experience; which is why we quite like those punk and new wave bands who followed the Sex Pistols. 

      D. H. Lawrence introduces this idea of chaos and the great umbrella in his text entitled 'Chaos in Poetry', which can be found in Introductions and Reviews, ed. N. H. Reeve and John Worthen (Cambridge University Press, 2005), pp. 107-116.    

 

[d] Am I being unfair here? Maybe. 

      But Bestley writes with confidence, clarity, and authority and these are not traits that I value in a writer. I suspect he believes that there are certain objective truths and indisputable facts about punk on which everyone who has attained a certain level of education can manage to agree. Thus, thanks to the inherent certainties of language and shared common sense, critical consensus is both possible and desirable.

      I would deny this and I would also contest the author's consciously exercised control over their own work; i.e., bring into question a writer's ability to ever fully understand their subject with any confidence or certainty.

 

[e] Bestley describes the cover thus: 

      "The front cover is based on a photograph by Kate Simon depicting the three main group members, Paul Simonon, Joe Strummer and Mick Jones in an alleyway adjacent to their rehearsal studio. Wearing suitably punk stage clothing, the musicians look directly at the camera without smiling. The connotations of the image are clear: punks are embattled urban survivors, their territory the rundown street. The photograph is reproduced in stark, high contrast black and white, with all the midtones stripped out through a deliberately heavy halftone image treatment." [94-95]

      The key point is:

"While the album cover offers several graphic references to the visual language of punk fanzines and the DIY revolution, this is a sophisticated graphic composition that sets out to play down the technical skill of the designer ..." [95]. 

      In other words, the gritty authenticity of punk is a form of artifice; the Clash were plastic punks after all.

 

[f] I'm referring here, of course, to a line from the song 'My Perfect Cousin' by the Undertones, released as a single from their second studio album Hypnotised (Sire Records, 1980). It was the band's only top ten UK hit, reaching number 9 in the charts. The track was written by Damian O'Neill and Michael Bradley. To play on YouTube - and watch the video directed by Julien Temple - click here. 

      I love the song, but I have to admit I'm sympathetic to Zanti Misfit's defence of Kevin, the perfect cousin, published on The Afterword (03/06/2015): click here. 

 

[g] This is why I've always loved the X-Ray Spex track 'I Can't Do Anything' on Germ Free Adolescents (EMI, 1978): click to play here. 

      For an interesting essay by George McKay that critically interrogates and reconceptualises the DIY/punk nexus, with particular reference to the early UK punk scene, see 'Was Punk DIY? Is Punk DIY?' in DIY: Alternative Cultures & Society Vol. 2, Issue 1 (April, 2024): click here to read online. 

      Challenging Bestley's view of DIY as being an essential component of the punk philosophy, McKay suggests the two concepts should be decoupled; that DIY needs depunking so to speak, in order that it might be liberated as a far broader (and more radical) practice.

 

[h] One recalls Oscar Wilde's line from The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890): 'If only the caveman had known how to laugh ...'

 

[i] See the post entitled 'In Defence of Fun' (3 June 2024) - click here - and the post entitled 'On the Nature of the Ridiculous (and the Ridiculous Nature of the Sex Pistols) (21 March 2024): click here. 

 

 

The following post in this four-part series on Russ Bestley's Turning Revolt Into Style, can be read by clicking here. 

 

My Debt to Jewish-American Humour

Danny Kaye, Jerry Lewis, and Phil Silvers (as Sgt. Bilko)

 

 

I.

 

Humour, said Freud, is a means of obtaining pleasure from life, no matter what. 

 

In other words, laughter is a way of overcoming suffering as well as an antidote to that all-too-human tendency to take ourselves seriously. 

  

That's why the most profound comedy is often rooted in misery and self-mockery (even self-hatred). And that's why the best humour in the world is Jewish in origin ...

 

 

II.

 

I'm certain that the tradition of humour in Judaism can be traced way back, but I'm a late 20th-century boy and so I'm mostly interested in the humour that developed amongst the Jewish community of the United States and shaped the worlds of film and television in the last seventy years, rather than the subtle theological satire expressed in the Talmud, for example.

 

Antisemitic conspiracy theorists often claim that the Jews are overrepresented in the world of banking and maybe that's true, maybe not [1]. But what cannot be denied is that a disproportionately high percentage of American comedians and comic actors have been Jewish [2].

Of course, Jews have significantly influenced and contributed to the development of the modern world in many fields - art, philosophy, science, politics, business, etc. But I'm particularly grateful for their role within the world of entertainment. 

 

For my childhood was made happier by Danny Kaye, Jerry Lewis, and Phil Silvers as Sgt. Bilko. And today, the comic genius of Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld continues to exert a huge influence over my understanding not only of what constitutes funny, but of how I view the world (ironically and with curbed enthusiasm).

 

 

 

Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David

 

  

 

Notes

 

[1] The idea that Jews are good with (and greedy for) money is one of the oldest antisemitic stereotypes. It's undeniable, however, that Jews are well-represented in finance and business. See the article on Jews and Finance on myjewishlearning.com which nicely puts things into historical and cultural context, explaining why this is so. 

 

[2] In 1978, Time magazine claimed that 80 per cent of professional comedians in America were Jewish, even though Jews only made up 3 per cent of the U.S. population at that time. Click here to read the article 'Behaviour: Analyzing Jewish Comics' (2 Oct 1978).    

 

 

Ours is Essentially a Tragic Age ...

The opening passage of Lawrence's Lady Chatterley's Lover, which more or less establishes Connie's precarious position at the beginning of the book, is one of the great opening passages in twentieth-century literature: 

"Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen."

What I love most about this passage is the insouciant refusal to take an essentially tragic age tragically, thereby paradoxically rendering the essential inessential and denying the need to be determined by that which masquerades as fundamentally determining, or absolute necessity.

There might be blood on the floor, implies the narrator, but there's no use crying over it any more than spilled milk: the cataclysm has happened - get over it and move on  - no matter how many skies have fallen.

In other words, like Nietzsche when faced with the death of God and the problem of modern nihilism, the narrator displays not only admirable courage, but also a certain ironic intelligence that laughs in the face of earnest stupidity (not so much transforming tragedy into comedy, but recognising that the drama of human existence is born in the space between them).

Further, when confronted with the way in which an established order can rapidly become chaotic and disintegrate at every point, there's no call for reterritorialization along old lines, or a nostalgic longing for past wholeness; new little habitats and new little hopes are the key - and this, too, I greatly admire.
                 
As much as I love this passage, however, I can appreciate that some readers might have problems with certain aspects of it - not least of all with the presence of a phantom narrator who despite being outside of events is nevertheless a privileged spectator to them; not to mention a narrator who, from the get go, cheerfully deploys a possessive pronoun, thereby implicating us all in the fictional affair that is about to unfold.   
 
The narrator's presumption that readers inhabit the same moral and spatio-temporal universe as the lovers, is a way of homogenizing the text (and shaping interpretations of the text), as well as soliciting sympathy for Connie and Mellors; their position is our position; their feelings are our feelings; their sins are our sins.

Not everyone is comfortable with such complicity, or happy with the attempt to ensure consensus. As readers, we've got to live and that means - as Lawrence himself knew, anticipating the postmodern aesthetic - trusting the tale and not slavishly obeying the author or agreeing with their (often unreliable, sometimes manipulative) textual proxy, the narrator.                

See: D. H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover, ed. Michael Squires, (Cambridge University Press, 1983).