Sweet Sixteen (In Memory of Sid Vicious and My Own Punk Youth)

John Beverley, aged 16, in his pre-punk days 

prior to becoming Sid Vicious, Sex Pistol.

Me, aged 16, in my post-punk days, but still sporting 

a Sid Vicious badge on the left lapel of my jacket.

 

 

I recently came across a rather touching photo of a young John Beverley on his way to a David Bowie concert at Earl's Court, in 1973 ... 

 

This was the infamous opening show of Bowie's Aladdin Sane UK tour on May 12th, two days after Beverley turned sixteen. Whether the latter took part in - or, indeed, incited - the violence that ensued amongst the 18,000 strong audience, I don't know. But it's possible this is where he first developed a taste for rock 'n' roll mayhem. 

 

Around this same time, Beverley was kicked out of his home by his heroin-addicted mother, so quit school and began squatting along with his friend John Lydon, the soon-to-be Sex Pistol Johnny Rotten, who gave him the punk-sounding nickname of Sid Vicious by which he is best remembered today.

 

The two friends - like many other youngsters at the time interested in music and fashion - started to cruise up and down the Kings Road and eventually found themselves hanging out at the small and unusual boutique owned and managed by Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood, called SEX. 

 

When, in late-summer 1975, Rotten joined the Sex Pistols, Sid became their No. 1 fan and acted as an agent provocateur ensuring that every gig ended in an unpredictable bloody mess. He can be seen in photos taken at the Nashville Rooms in April 1976 on the night that the band physically attacked their audience.

 

Vicious is also credited with inventing the pogo, an aggressive form of anti-dance. In February '77, he replaced bass guitarist Glen Matlock in the Sex Pistols, even though he had no experience of playing the instrument. He would later (rather cruelly) be stylised by McLaren in The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle as 'The Gimmick'. 

 

Tragically, post-Pistols, things did not turn out well for Sid - or his American girlfriend, Nancy Spungen; he died, from a drug overdose, on 2 February, 1979, aged 21, whilst on bail and awaiting trial for the murder of the latter, who died from a single stab wound to her abdomen, aged 20, on October 12th of the previous year.  

 

II.  

 

I vividly recall the time when Sid died. For one thing, it was less than a fortnight away from my own sixteenth birthday, on February 13th ...

 

I remember, for example, going out on a cold, foggy night and stealing that day's headline poster for the Evening Standard outside my local newsagent's which read: Sid Vicious Dead (I still have it today somewhere). 

I remember also the next morning, at school, being met with snide remarks from those who knew I was a fan of the Sex Pistols: Your hero's dead - that kind of thing, nothing very imaginative. 

 

Actually, Sid was never really my hero: I was more devoted to Rotten, as the Public Image Ltd. t-shirt worn in the above photo taken in 1979 indicates. However, I do retain a certain affection for him which, sadly, is no longer the case when it comes to the latter, who recently turned sixty-six, but died many, many years ago ...     

Holocaust Impiety: Notes on Belsen Was a Gas

Sex Pistols Sid Vicious and Johnny Rotten on stage at the 

Longhorn Ballroom, Dallas, Texas (Jan 10, 1978)

 

Belsen was a gas I heard the other day / In the open graves where the Jews all lay

Life is fun and I wish you were here / They wrote on postcards to those held dear. [1]

 

 

I. 

 

The term Holocaust piety - coined by British philosopher Gillian Rose [2] - is now commonly used to describe sentimental and/or sanctimonious approaches to the Nazi genocide. 

 

For Rose, films such as Steven Spielberg's Schindler's List (1993), provide a straightforward narrative that enables (and encourages) the audience to identify solely with the victims, thereby making them feel virtuous and protecting them from the thought that they might actually have more in common with the perpetrators. 

 

This allows for moral complacency even amongst those who are genuinely horrified by the extermination of the Jews. Our tears help to wash away our complicity in the crimes carried out by the Nazis and ultimately leave us emotionally and politically intact; we fail to discover and confront the micro-fascism within our own hearts [3].

 

Rose calls for works in which the representation of Fascism engages with the fascism of representation: 

 

"A film, shall we say, which follows the life story of a member of the SS in all its pathos, so that we empathise with him, identify with his hopes and fears, disappointments and rage, so that when it comes to killing, we put our hands on the trigger with him, wanting him to get what he wants." [4]        

 

Or a book, such as Borowski's This Way for the Gas, Ladies and Gentlemen (1967), which Rose compares favourably with the work of Primo Levi [5]. 

 

Or a song, such as 'Belsen Was a Gas', by the Sex Pistols ...

 

 

II. 

 

'Belsen Was a Gas' - which seems to be Sid's one and only contribution to the Sex Pistols' repertoire [6] - is, arguably, more disturbing than any of their other songs and goes beyond being darkly humorous just as it transcends bad taste [7].

 

As the American music critic Lester Bangs wrote: 

 

"It's one of the most frightening things I've ever heard. You wonder exactly what you might be affirming by listening to this over and over again. On one level Johnny Rotten [...] is an insect buzzing atop the massed ruins of a civilization leveled by itself [...] on another level he's just another trafficker in cheap nihilism with all that it includes [...]" [8]

 

Someone else who fully appreciates the power and significance of the song is Matthew Boswell, who examines the complex relationship between punk nihilism and Nazi genocide in his essay 'Holocaust Impiety in Punk and Post-punk' (2009). 

 

Developing a reading of the song first put forward by Jon Stratton [9], Boswell concedes that whilst there's a level of sarcastic (and even callous) indifference contained in the lyrics - Oh dear - suggesting that Rotten, as vocalist, is not too bothered by the events that he's describing, it should also be noted that "the first line of the song actually opens a critical distance separating the speaker from the sentiment expressed in the title, through the fact that the line 'Belsen was a gas' is a reported statement" [10]. 

 

Thus, importantly, there's a distinction between the singer of the song on the one hand and the person whose speech is being reported on the other. Boswell continues: 

 

"And much as the sentence 'Belsen was a gas' is something the speaker has heard from a third party, the equally ironic line 'life is fun and I wish you were here' explicitly refers to words written on the postcards sent by the Jews to their families, referencing the historical fact that for the purposes of Nazi propaganda, concentration camp prisoners were compelled to write letters that portrayed their conditions in an unfeasibly favourable light. The song seems to satirise the acceptance of these falsehoods by Jewish families who were only too ready to believe that conditions in the camp were not as bad as they had heard. It is unclear whether the speaker understands or condones the element of coercion; it is equally unclear whether it is the cruelty of the Nazis that the caustic humour of the song exposes to ridicule, or the victimhood of the Jews. This song is high-risk, employing deliberate and potentially offensive ambiguities in the representation of charged subject matter; much therefore rests on the tone taken in performance." [11] 

 

That's true, which is why watching Rotten sing the song live on stage during the ill-fated US tour is so crucial: click  here for a performance at the Longhorn Ballroom, Dallas, Texas, (10 Jan 1978), or here, for a performance at the Winterland, San Francisco (14 Jan 1978) - the band's final show.  

 

Boswell writes:

 

"In this live version, Rotten enunciates the words clearly; but as the song draws to an end he stops singing and gives a sarcastic, demonic laugh that transforms into a horrific choking sound, before launching into a manic riff on the phrases 'be a man, kill someone, kill yourself'." [12] 

 

The song closes abruptly with a final repetition of the line 'kill yourself', which Boswell thinks could be directed at the Jews from a Nazi perspective, or could be an attack on this casually self-exculpating Nazi point of view: "Taking issue with the homicidal bravado of the Nazis, Rotten's sentiment seems to be: if killing makes you such a man, then be a real man and kill yourself." [13]    

 

Such moral and lyrical ambiguity is, of course, what gives the song its brilliance.

 

Notes

 

[1] Sex Pistols, 'Belsen Was a Gas' (Jones, Cook, Rotten, Vicious). Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., / Universal Music Publishing Group. Although this song was never recorded for release by the band, a demo recorded at their Denmark Steet rehearsal room in 1977 was included on the 35th anniversary box set edition of Never Mind the Bollocks in 2012: click here. Rotten's very faint, reverbed vocals give it a slightly chilling effect.

 

[2] Gillian Rose, Mourning Becomes the Law, (Cambridge University Press, 1996). See chapter two, 'Beginnings of the Day: Fascism and Representation', pp. 41-62.

      Rose provocatively challenges thinkers from Adorno to Habermas who would have us view the Holocaust as ineffable (i.e., as an extreme event of such uniqueness that it can never adequately or legitimately be given expression). She writes: "To argue for silence, prayer, the banishment equally of poetry and knowledge [...] is to mystify something we dare not understand, because we fear that it may be all too understandable, all too continuous with what we are - human, all too human." [43]

 

[3] In an article in The Guardian entitled 'The dry eyes of deep grief' (9 April 2004), Giles Fraser writes:

 

"The desire to inhabit a cultural space that is unblemished is a dangerous fantasy that cooperates with the desire to avoid facing one's own capacity for brutality. Dr Jekyll's fundamental flaw is his refusal to acknowledge the existence of Mr Hyde. Hyde can only operate in the dark, in the unexamined spaces brought about by Jekyll's pious avoidance of his own darker motivations. Rose's attack upon those narratives which place us tearfully alongside the victim is an attack upon the refusal of Jekyll to admit to Hyde. For Jekyll and Hyde are not two people but one. Tenderness, intelligence and brutality easily co-exist in the same person. Our own cruelties and prejudices are given ideal conditions to grow when we refuse to admit to them. This is not simply a meditation for the religious. For the cultural space that often has little sense of its own complicity in the horrors of the world is that of secular modernity." 

 

[4] Gillian Rose, Mourning Becomes the Law, p. 50. 

 

[5] Rose finds Levi's writings too humane and too restrained in comparison to Borowski's account of being a prisoner in Auschwitz: "Above all," she notes, "Borowski represents himself, a deputy Kapo, as both executioner and victim [...] While Browski never denies his ethical presupposition [...] he makes you witness brutality in the most distubing way, for it is not clear - Levi always is - from what position, as whom, you are reading. You emerge shaking in horror at yourself, with yourself in question, not in admiration for the author's Olympian serenity (Levi)." [50]   

 

[6] Although all band members of the Sex Pistols are credited as the songwriters, Vicious is generally accepted to have written the original version of the track - in collaboration with guitarist Keith Levene - whilst in his earlier punk band the Flowers of Romance. 

 

[7] Somewhat disappointingly, even Jon Savage and Greil Marcus fail to see the importance of 'Belsen Was a Gas', or accept the challenge it throws down. In England's Dreaming (1991) the former dismisses the song as a "one-line, very sick joke" (p. 458) and in Lipstick Traces (1989) the latter describes it as "a crude, cheesy, stupid number" (p. 116).

 

[8] Lester Bangs, Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung, ed. Greil Marcus, (Anchor Books, 1988). See 'Notes on PIL's Metal Box', (1980). 

      Rotten himself disavowed the track in a 1996 interview with Q magazine, describing it as a 'very nasty, silly little thing [...] that should've ended up on the cutting room floor'. Of course, that didn't stop the Sex Pistols from continuing to perform the song in later years.

  

[9] See Jon Stratton, 'Punk, Jews, and the Holocaust - The English Story', Shofar Vol. 25, No. 4 (Summer 2007), pp. 124-149. Click here to access on JSTOR.  

      This is an interesting essay, though one with several factual errors: for example, 'God Save the Queen' was not the Sex Pistols' first single (it was their second); and The Flowers of Romance was not the first album by Public Image Ltd., it was the fourth (released April 1981). 

      In brief, Stratton argues that punk in England was driven by two Jewish managers, Malcolm McLaren and Bernie Rhodes, but, more important, punk's general politics of nihilism express in a cultural context the shock and trauma of the Holocaust: 

      "After almost three decades of near-silence, by the late 1970s the Holocaust was beginning to be named and talked about. The horror of this event on not just Jews but Western society more generally, as the acknowledgment of the genocide began to undermine the historical acceptance of Enlightenment assumptions about progress, science, and the moral righteousness of Western civilization, led to an existential crisis best expressed in punk."  

  

[10] M. J. Boswell, 'Holocaust Impiety in Punk and Post-punk', (2009), p. 8. This paper was presented at the Imperial War Museum and can be accessed at http://usir.salford.ac.uk/id/eprint/23153/ 

      Boswell expands upon his theme in the book Holocaust Impiety in Literature, Popular Music and Film, (Palgrave Macmillan, 2011). 

 

[11] Ibid. 

 

[12] Ibid., p. 10.

 

[13] Ibid. 

 

 

What's-a-Matter Midge? (Hey!)

Midge Ure and Joe Dolce photographed in 1981 -

guess who has just scored the number one single

 

 

I.  Schadenfreude (n);  pleasure derived from another's misfortune or humiliation ...

 

I have to admit, it amuses me to discover that - even after all these years - singer-songwriter Midge Ure is still pissed off by the fact that Joe Dolce beat him and his synth-pop combo, Ultravox, to the number one spot in 1981 [1]. 

 

Let us remember the time, reminding ourselves (and explaining to younger readers) who the principle protagonists of this little drama are, beginning with one of Scotland's greatest musical exports ...

 

II. Midge Ure (He'll Love You Forever and Ever)

 

Midge Ure may now just be one of those talking bald heads who regularly appear in rockumentaries on Sky Arts and be better known for his charity work, but, back in the day, he was a flash young fucker from the outskirts of Glasgow, with good-looks, bags of talent, and responsible for some big hits in the '70s and early-mid '80s.

 

He started off as a member of Slik - who were a bit like the Bay City Rollers - and so impressed Malcolm McLaren that, prior to auditioning Johnny Rotten and giving him the job, Midge was offered the role of lead singer with the Sex Pistols in 1975. 

 

Obviously, he turned it down, but, two years later, he would link up with bassist Glen Matlock (after the latter was fired from the Sex Pistols and replaced by Sid Vicious), to form the Rich Kids, releasing the glorious pop-punk anthem Ghosts of Princes in Towers in August 1978. 

 

Leaving the band due to musical differences, Midge next formed Visage, along with Rusty Egan (who had also been in the Rich Kids) and Steve Strange on vocals. Their second single, Fade to Grey (1980), was another top ten hit written and produced by Ure.   

 

But, arguably, it's Ultravox with whom Midge is most associated and best remembered. Replacing John Foxx as the lead singer and guitarist in November 1980, he revitalised the group and ensured they had massive commercial success, including seven top ten albums and seventeen top forty singles, until finally disbanding in 1987. 

 

This included the title track from their fourth album, released as a single in January 1981, Vienna ...     

 

 

III. Austria 2 Italy 1

 

I have to admit, despite its haunting notes and pizzicato strings, Vienna means nothing to me - it's way too mystic and soulful for my tastes. 

 

But it's regarded by the people who do like this kind of thing as one of the finest examples of the new romantic synth-pop genre and became Ultravox's signature song; one which Midge proudly continues to perform to this day (even though, apparently, when he first heard the classical-sounding orchestration he was hesitant about its use in a pop song, fearing it might be a bit too much even for a band that was proud of its own grandeur).  

 

Vienna was one of the best-selling singles of 1981 and voted Single of the Year at the Brit Awards; it reached number one in Ireland, Belgium, and the Netherlands, but it never made the top spot in the UK charts. Initially, Vienna was held in the number two position by John Lennon's Woman. But then, hilariously, Joe Dolce's comic masterpiece, Shaddap You Face, kept it there for a further three weeks.

 

Although known as a novelty record, the fact is people all over the world loved to sing along with Dolce's song (and still do). Not only did it get to number one in fifteen countries, but there have been numerous foreign language cover versions and the original single has sold over six million copies since its release. 

 

So hats off to Joe Dolce, an Italian-American-Australian singer-songwriter who is now highly respected as a poet and essayist. Maybe, one day, Midge will even agree to meet him - having turned down the opportunity to do so when in Australia a couple of years back - and the two will produce a song together ... I think that would be kind of nice.

   

 

Notes

 

[1] I'm basing this on recent press reports, including this one in the Scottish Mail on Sunday, by John Dingwall (18 Oct 2020): click here. 

      To be fair to Midge, I can imagine it would be irritating to be forever asked about Joe Dolce and subject to mockery throughout the last forty years - such as in this scene from the sixth and final episode of the BBC sitcom Filthy, Rich and Catflap (Feb 1987), featuring Rik Mayall and Ade Edmondson: click here.  

 

Discography: 

 

Slik, 'Forever and Ever', single released from the album Slik, (Bell Records, 1975). 

 

Rich Kids, 'Ghosts and Princes in Towers', single released from the album Ghosts and Princes in Towers, (EMI, 1978). 

 

Visage, 'Fade to Grey', single released from the album Visage, (Polydor, 1980). 

Ultravox, 'Vienna', single released from the album Vienna, (Chrysalis, 1980). 

Joe Dolce Music Theatre, 'Shaddap You Face', (Full Moon Records, 1980).

Readers interested in Midge Ure can visit his official site: midgeure.co.uk

Readers interested in Joe Dolce can visit his official site: joedolce.net

Soured Through the Ages Like Piss Lemonade: Notes on Punk Is Dead (2017)

(Zero Books, 2017)

 

 

I.

 

Pressed between the 300 or so pages of this book are a series of memories from various contributors who still like to filter their experiences and thinking through the prism of punk in order to explore the past and indicate their own role within it: I was there is the running refrain throughout the work: And bliss it was in that Summer of Hate to be alive (and to be a young punk was very heaven) [a]. 

 

There is, of course, a certain irony in this: if punk prided itself on anything, it was the refusal to be nostalgic or to acknowledge that it owed anything to the past: No Elvis, Beatles, or the Rolling Stones in 1977 ... [b]

 

Similarly, punk was not sentimental. As Tony Drayton reminds us, the phrase Kill Your Pet Puppy meant breaking all ties, committments, and responsibilities; "reject domesticity, keep on moving [...] never look back, leave your family behind" [195] [c].

 

And so there's a further irony in the fact that the book opens with the two editors - Richard Cabut and Andrew Gallix - thanking their partners, parents and children and thereby placing punk within the Oedipal triangle.
 

Still, never mind the bollocks - let's move on ...

 

 

II. 

 

First up, there's a Foreword by Judy Nylon; a colourful figure who, by her own admission, is "often left out of punk histories" [1], despite being - like her friend and compatriot Chrissie Hynde - on the London scene from the very beginning. 

 

I suspect the reason for this is that Nylon is bigger and more complex than any scene or subcultural identity, which makes her - like many of the singular individuals in this period - too punk for punk. The fact that her "very existence would eventually come into conflict with Malcolm and Vivienne's version of punk" [2] probably also helps to explain her exclusion from many (official) accounts of the period.  

 

Next comes a two part Introduction by the editors ...

 

Richard Cabut makes the perfectly valid point that punk in the early days - "before the Clash essentialy" [8] - had no fixed essence or political allegiance, but was, rather, a defiant and stylish response to the boredom of everyday life. 

 

Where he and I differ, is that he understands this in terms of a "quest for truth and significance" [9], whilst I see it more as the playful deconstruction of these and related ideals as part of what D. H. Lawrence terms a sane revolution:

 

If you make a revolution, make it for fun, 

don’t make it in ghastly seriousness, 

don’t do it in deadly earnest, do it for fun. 

 

Don’t do it because you hate people, 

do it just to spit in their eye. [d]           

 

This resentment-free gobbing - and not the search for meaning - is surely what defines punk, is it not?

 

Andrew Gallix, meanwhile, muses on the passing of time and the fact that even punk rockers - unless they live fast enough to die young like Sid and Nancy - get old ... 

 

I suspect, however, as a reader of Deleuze, Gallix is perfectly aware of the fact that one can, in fact, age stylishly - that is to say, like Malcolm (but unlike Rotten) - not by attempting to remain young, but by extracting the molecular elements, the forces and flows, that constitute the youth of whatever age one happens to be. 

 

Gallix also warns of the dangers of retrospective reinterpretation; "of the way in which the past is subtly rewritten, every nuance gradually airbrushed out of the picture" [11]. For this is not just a way of negating certain inconvenient elements in the past, but of creating a sanitised present. This whitewashing of history and murder of reality is what Baudrillard terms the perfect crime.    

 

Ultimately, however, the cultural importance of punk must be remembered, even if, as a selective process, remembering always involves a degree of forgetting. 

 

Indeed, Gallix argues that punk must not just be remembered, but commemorated in museums and art galleries; both as "the last great youth subculture" [12] and a "summation of all avant-garde movements of the 20th-century" [12] [e].  

 

 

III. 

 

In his essay 'The Boy Looked at Eurydice', Gallix continues to reflect upon the punk obsession with youth: "All we can say for sure is that, more than any other subculture before or since, punk was afflicted with Peter Pan syndrome." [17] 

 

That's probably true: I remember one of the first things I ever wrote was entitled Never Trust Anyone Over Twenty and I always (like Sid) used the term grown-up perjoratively. Again, this came from Malcolm who encouraged his spiky-haired charges to be childish, irresponsible and disrespectful of adult authority [f].   

 

More importantly, however, was the fact that punk was a thinking against itself - "internal dissent was its identity" [26]. Real punks, as Gallix rightly says, always hated the term: "Being a true punk was something that could only go without saying, it implied never describing oneself as such" [26-27] [g].   

 

 

IV.  

 

For me, one of the most interesting pieces in Punk Is Dead is by Tom Vague who retraces the semi-mythical origin of punk rock to the Situationist International and the Gordon Riots of 1780; a connection first made by Fred Vermorel. 

 

The fact is, whilst you can analyse the Sex Pistols from various perspectives, to talk exclusively about the music or the fashion whilst ignoring the politics which inspired McLaren and Jamie Reid is to profoundly miss the point. 

 

Crucial aspects of the project - particularly in the glorious last days of The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle, when the band essentially no longer existed - will simply not make sense unless you first understand the political context in which things evolved and I would advise everyone to read Chris Gray's Leaving the Twentieth Century (1974), which, as Vague reminds us, is a kind of blueprint for the punk revolution [h].    

 

V.

 

Sadly, of course, for the majority of punk rockers it was all about the music (not the chaos); all about forming (or following) bands, making (or buying) records, playing (or going to) gigs, etc. These were the kind of people who read the NME (not Guy Debord) and failed to see that the most exciting thing about Never Mind the Bollocks was the sleeve (just as the only interesting thing about Johnny Rotten was his public image).    

Unfortunately, these music lovers abound within the pages of Punk Is Dead - still talking reverently about rock history and referring to the Sex Pistols as the Pistols thereby turning them into just another boring band rather than the embodiment of an attitude and an approach to art, politics, and life that bubbled up at 430 Kings Road. 

 

To his credit, Paul Gorman understands the importance of the above address as an immersive art environment and recognises that the music was simply an expression of SEX and Seditionaries (and arguably of far less importance than McLaren and Westwood's clothes designs) [i]. Not everyone could join the band - but anyone could be a SEX Pistol if they had the right look, the right attitude. 

 

Punk was perhaps not all and always about Talcy Malcy, but, as Gorman says, without McLaren and his odd little shop at 430 Kings Road, punk "wouldn't have taken the form it did" [77] [j].       

 

    

VI.

I would normally at this point in a review indicate which are the pieces (and who are the authors) contained in this collection that I really hate - and there are several (not to mention one or two essays that simply don't belong in this book, interesting as they may be). 

 

But, in the spirit of Richard Cabut's positive punk, let me end with a wonderful line taken from Dorothy Max Prior's 'SEX in the City', an amusing account of her days working as a stripper in the pubs of punk London, full of dodgy-geezers and brassy-birds: 

 

"Modernity killed not only every night, but every lunchtime over a pint of Double Diamond in a City Road boozer." [118]

 

 

   

Notes

 

[a] This line from Wordsworth - paraphrased here - is also paraphrased by Andrew Gallix in 'The Boy Looked at Eurydice', in Punk Is Dead, (Zero Books, 2017), pp. 17-18. Note that future page references to this book will be given directly in the text. 

      To his credit, punk-turned philosopher Simon Critchley says he consciously tries not to lecture young people about "how great it was to be alive in the 1970s". Of course, as he admits, he often fails in this. See 'Rummaging in the Ashes: An Interview with Simon Critchley', Punk Is Dead, p. 39. 

[b] As the Clash sang on the B-side of their first single White Riot (CBS, 1977): click here. 

      Andrew Gallix, however, persuasively argues that without nostalgia we would have no Homer or Proust. See his Introduction to Punk Is Dead, p. 12. 

      See also 'Rummaging in the Ashes: An Interview with Simon Critchley', in which the latter says that although he hates nostalgia, "it is unavoidable and I get whimsical when I think back to the punk years and how everything suddeny became possible". Punk Is Dead, p. 37. 

 

[c] Tony Drayton (in conversation with Richard Cabut), 'Learning to Fight', Punk Is Dead. Drayton was the founder of the punk fanzines Ripped & Torn (1976) and Kill Your Pet Puppy (1980). 

 

[d] D. H. Lawrence, 'A sane revolution', The Poems Vol. I, ed. Christopher Pollnitz, (Cambridge University Press, 2013), p. 449.

[e] Interestingly, Simon Critchley takes an entirely opposite view: "I must say that I find the idea of the commemoration of punk particularly distasteful, and that punk can be archived and celebrated in museums pretty awful." See 'Rummaging in the Ashes: An Interview with Simon Critchley', in Punk Is Dead, p. 38.

[f] Ted Polhemus picks up on the deliberate and determined childishness of punk in his essay 'Boom!', describing it as "the opposite of the beard-stroking, educated, technically-accomplished, grown-up world where the Boring Old Farts had reduced the anything-goes spirit of rock 'n' roll to a limp, ageing shadow of its former self". See Punk Is Dead, p. 98.

[g] As Paul Gorman writes in 'The Flyaway-Collared Shirt': "Everyone I knew, and/or admired, moved on from punk as soon as it was given a name. [...] The richness of [the] scene had been traduced to the saleable gob 'n' pogo archetype: spiky hair, permanent sneer, brotel creepers, Lewis leathers." See Punk Is Dead, p. 105. 

       

[h] For example, Chris Gray's idea of forming a totally unpleasant pop group "designed to subvert show business from within would obviously be a major influence on the [Sex] Pistols project". See Andrew Gallix, 'Unheard Melodies', Punk Is Dead, p. 213.   

 

[i] As Richard Cabut says in 'A Letter to Jordan', in terms of cultural influence upon style, SEX (later to become Seditionaries and World's End) is "the most influential shop/meeting place ever". See Punk Is Dead, p. 120. Cabut is also right to recognise - like Adam Ant before him - that the perfect embodiment of SEX was Jordan, rather than Rotten. 

 

[j] Ted Polhemus challenges the view that punk was primarily and most significantly shaped by Malcolm: 

      "Not only is this view a reductionist distortion of how history happens - and actually did happen in 1976 - but it also fails to give credit were credit is surely due to the startling, unprecedented creativity of hundreds and then thousands of teenagers like John Lydon [...] and so very many others whose contribution was great but whose names were never known to us [...]." 

      See his essay 'Boom!' in Punk Is Dead, p. 99. The fact that Polhemus refers to Rotten as John Lydon perhaps indicates where his sympathies lie and why he might wish to down play McLaren's role.    

  

Can Anyone be a Sex Pistol?

 Anson Boon / Johnny Rotten

 

 

I. 

 

For whatever reason, I'm still thinking about Danny Boyle's new six-part series based on the story of the Sex Pistols. And the question that keeps returning is this: Can Anson Boon convincingly play the part of Johnny Rotten? 

 

Or is it the case that, in order to truly inhabit a role, an actor needs the same lived experience [1] as the person they are portraying? Ultimately, what is the relationship between acting and authenticity?

II. 

 

Firstly, let me say this: I know why some people think it important that, for example, black actors play black characters on stage and film and that such roles aren't given to white actors wearing theatrical makeup. I understand the issues surrounding blackface and how it has lent itself to racial stereotyping and, indeed, racist caricature and can see why such a practice is now considered offensive (even when there is no wilful malice or disrespect intended by the actor playing the part). 

 

Similarly, I sympathise with disabled actors who time and again see roles for which they would seem to be ideally suited go to able-bodied performers. It seems discriminatory - and probably is discriminatory. For although the performing arts take place in an aesthetic space that is uniquely different to what most people think of as the real world, that space is not entirely separate from the latter and still unfolds within a wider cultural history and a network of power and politics, privilege and prejudice. 

 

As Howard Sherman writes:

 

"If we lived in a society, a country, where everyone was indeed equal in opportunity, then the arguments for paying heed to the realities of race, ethnicity, gender and disability might be concerns that could be set aside. But that's far from the case, and if the arts are to be anything more than a palliative, they must think not just of artifice, but also about the authenticity and context of what they offer to audiences." [2] 

 

Unfortunately, whenever someone points this out they are immediately told that the very essence of acting is people pretending to be what they're not; about performance, persona, and pretence; that it's not about the lived reality of an actor, who is paid to wear a mask not bear their soul or expose their true selves. 

 

However, as Sherman goes on to argue, the it's called acting defence is one that often serves to uphold a state of affars in which too many people have been marginalised and unfairly treated for too long; where the lived experience of those who don't determine the rules of the game - including the rules and conventions of the supposedly liberal world of the arts - has been denigrated or dismissed.      

 

 

III. 

 

Having said that - and this brings us back to Danny Boyle's project and the question I asked at the beginning of this post - one of the key lessons of The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle was that anyone can be a Sex Pistol, regardless of their background.

 

Why? Because it's all about attitude, rather than authenticity; style and swagger, rather than an identity rooted in one's so-called lived experience. As much as Boyle's castration of the Sex Pistols irritates me - click here - the idea that actors can only play people who are the same as them is clearly absurd. 

 

It can be vexing - I wouldn't say offensive - when posh people attempt to portray working class life, or straight actors play gay characters. But, as Julie Burchill says, "if an actor doesn’t look like he’s making fun of someone, we should trust him to give a part his all - and more credit to him if the part is outside of his experience" [3]. 

 

So, good luck to Anson Boon in his attempt to play Rotten! 

 

And good luck also to Louis Partridge as Sid Vicious and Maisie Williams as Jordan. These bright young thespians may never quite understand what was so phenomenal about the Sex Pistols, but that needn't detract from their performance and, as Burchill also points out, there's a danger in getting too uptight about all this: for such anxiety about casting "is merely the equity branch of the cultural-appropriation asshattery" [4]. 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] This moral-ideological notion - increasingly used to negate objective reality - is one I have italicised throughout this post in order to indicate my own scepticism regarding its legitimacy. For those who are interested, it is discussed at length by Brendan O'Neill in a recent essay entitled 'The tyranny of "lived experience"', Spiked, (19 March, 2021): click here.    

 

[2] Howard Sherman, 'The Frightened Arrogance Behind "It’s Called Acting"', (2 August, 2016): click here. Sherman - an arts administrator, advocate and author - was Interim Director of the Alliance for Inclusion in the Arts (New York), from 2013 - 2017. Although I'm sympathetic to his concerns, I worry that his arguments can be extended in a way that ultimately renders acting - and, indeed, even the imaginative creation of characters by writers - almost impossible. In other words, that a call for political correctness ends in a form of woke puritanism.         

 

[3] and [4] Julie Burchill, 'It’s called acting for a reason', Spiked, (21 August, 2018): click here.

 

The Great Rock 'n' Roll Castration

Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious as portrayed by Anson Boon and Louis Partridge

 

Director Danny Boyle irritated me in 2012 with his ludicrous opening ceremony for the London Olympics, featuring a twenty-minute tribute to the NHS, so when I heard that he was making a six-part TV series about the Sex Pistols (based on Steve Jones's Lonely Boy memoir), I began to prepare for a heavily sentimental take on the story.   

 

But, having now read further details of the project - including who's cast to play Rotten and company - and seen images released from on set, I fear what we are about to be offered is a revision of the past that exchanges sneering nihilism for an uplifting tale of smiling punks in touch with their feelings and struggling to live up to their bad boy image, whilst dealing with issues of abuse, deprivation, and addiction 

 

Even the title of the series - Pistol - speaks of castration; of a band rendered sexless and transformed from cocky young 'erberts with an eye for fashion into sensitive boys crying out for attention and who only wanted to be accepted by society and loved as people.*   

 

Still, as a friend of mine said, you never know; the project might be redeemed by a brilliant script (co-written by Frank Cottrell Boyce and Craig Pearce) and some excellent performances from the young cast. I doubt it. But we'll see when the series airs next year.   

 

 

Notes

 

* John Lydon - who has already spoken out against Boyle's project - mocked this idea of poor misunderstood punks on 'Fodderstompf', the closing track of the first Public Image Ltd. album (Virgin Records, 1978): click here.  

 

For a related post to this one in which I discuss the relationship between acting and authenticity and address the question of whether anyone can be a Sex Pistol, click here. 

Banksy

Banksy: Girl with Balloon (London, 2002) 

 

(Note the chalked message on the wall; if that doesn't make you want to 

vomit, pop the balloon and shoot the artist, I don't know what would.)

 

 

I. 

 

There's a rather poignant moment in his interview with the Sex Pistols when Bill Grundy mourns the passing of Beethoven, Mozart, Bach and Brahms. Classical composers mocked by Rotten as wonderful people whom, as Steve Jones reminds us, are long since dead [1]. 

 

It's as if Grundy realises that his time too is over and that the world he knows and loves - in which the majority shared his values and musical preferences - is coming to an end. 

 

Strangely, I felt something similar when I recently discovered that Britain's favourite artwork (according to a poll of 2,000 people conducted in 2017) is Girl with Balloon (2002) by Banksy ... 

 

Turner, Constable, Blake and Bacon have all died and no longer turn anybody on it seems, apart from a few old farts, myself included, and it's just our tough shit if tastes have changed and people now want banal (because immediately accessible) images and naive political clichés - which, let's be honest, is mostly what Banksy trades in - instead of complex, challenging works.

 

 

II. 

 

Now, just to be clear, I've nothing against a former public school boy making millions from the art world with his (sometimes amusing) stencilled designs whilst posing as part cultural prankster, part urban guerilla. And if people want to regard him as a folk hero and put his prints on their walls, that's fine by me. 

 

But, having said that, I do tend to agree with Alexander Adams, who argues that when one compares Banksy with, for example, Jean-Michel Basquiat - "another artist who started in the streets and moved to art galleries" - we soon discover the former's limitations: 

 

"Basquiat's art is alive because we see the artist changing his mind, discovering, adapting and revising. We see the art as it is being made. While Basquiat's art is palpably alive, Banksy's is dead - it is simply the transcription of a witty pre-designed image in a novel placement. There is no ambiguity or doubt, no possibility of misinterpretation. There's no fire and no excitement." [2]

 

Ultimately, concludes Adams - himself an artist, as well as a critic and poet - "Basquiat's art is so much richer and more inventive than Banksy's, which by contrast seems painfully limited and shallow" [3].

 

I'm not sure I agree, however, that a century from now people will still be viewing Basquiat and will have forgotten Banksy. And, as regular readers of Torpedo the Ark might appreciate, I have a lot of problems with several of the terms used here:   

 

"Banksy lacks most of the characteristics of a serious artist: originality, complexity, universality, ambiguity, depth and insight into human nature and the world generally." [4]

 

Indeed, reading this almost makes me want to embrace Banksy and tell Adams to keep his opinions to himself. 

 

One also wonders if Adams isn't just a tad jealous of an artist who, like Damien Hirst, has achieved such astonishing fame and fortune (speaking personally, I know that I would love to wield even a fraction of Banksy's influence over the popular imagination and envy both his talent for graphic design and flair for self-promotion).   

 

But, then, just when I'm starting to feel a certain fondness and admiration for Banksy, I think again of the above image and its message of hope and realise that Adams is right to ultimately brand him nothing but a "cosy culture warrior and peddler of pedestrian homilies" [5].     

 

Notes

 

[1] Bill Grundy's infamous interview with the Sex Pistols on the Today programme took place on 1 December, 1976: click here to relive the moment on YouTube - one which is as significant and as memorable for those of the punk generation as the Kennedy assassination was for those who witnessed events in Dallas on 22 November, 1963.

 

[2] Alexander Adams, 'Banksy and the triumph of banality', essay in The Critic (Jan 2020): click here to read online. Adams is quoting here from an earlier article of his which appeared on the Spiked website comparing Banksy and Basquiat.   

 

[3-5] Ibid. 

 

 

Four Fascinating Things About the Amish

Photo by Debra Heaphy (2012)

 

The Old Order Amish [1] are a strange people; Christian traditionalists of Swiss-German origin, they are closely related to the Mennonites with whom they have shared Anabaptist roots in the so-called Radical Reformation of the 16th-century. 

 

For a variety of reasons, many Amish left Europe in the early 1700s for the New World and ended up in Pennsylvania, where they were free to practice their religion and breed (six or seven children still being the norm even now when infant mortality rates have significantly decreased).  

 

They are probably best known for their asceticism and resistance to the modern world and its technological innovations - including what Catweazle called elec-trickery - which they regard as disruptive of a humble lifestyle [2]. 

 

Anyway, here are four things (in no particular order) about the Amish which I find particularly intriguing ...

 

 

1. Amish Children Play With Faceless Dolls

 

Many children - even in non-Amish communities - play with rag dolls. But only Amish children get to play with faceless rag dolls ... 

 

Indeed, one suspects that a lot of non-Amish children (and parents) would find a faceless doll a little creepy; an unworldly inhabitant of the Uncanny Valley. But as someone who hates identity, loves anonymity, and has written extensively on the politics of (losing) the face and becoming-imperceptible [click here and here, for example], I'm fascinated by these soft-bodied objects of American folk art. 

 

Ironically, however, whereas for the Amish these dolls comply with the biblical injunction against graven images and symbolise that God makes no distinction between human beings - we are all his children and all equal in his eyes - for a Deleuzian, such as myself, there could be nothing more anti-Christian than a faceless figure ...  

 

Also ironic is the fact that these simple rag dolls have become highly collectable and authentic antique figures can sell for over a $1000. Naturally, this has led to the manufacture of fake dolls intended to deceive the unwary. 

 

It might also be noted that as commercial tourism has increased over the years, some Amish communities have made faceless dolls for sale in souvenir shops - a development that both surprises and disappoints. For whilst I accept that even the Amish have to make a buck, this commodification of their own culture (and childhood) seems a bit questionable ...      

 

 

2: The Amish Don't Care About Having Good Teeth and a Nice Smile

 

Although some Amish families opt for modern dental care and practice good oral hygiene, many still prefer the old way - i.e., to yank teeth out at the earliest opportunity and make do with dentures. 

 

Not only is extraction the cheaper option - and the Amish reject medical insurance as they do all other forms of financial cover - but some regard it as the option more in keeping with their values (they fear that caring for their teeth will quickly lead to other forms of personal vanity).  

 

Being British, I suppose I'm in no position to knock others for bad teeth - and besides, it's quite a punk thing to not care about having rotten gnashers; how d'you think Johnny got his name?    

 

 

3: The Amish Hate Buttons (Koumpounophobia)

 

The Amish are famous for their plain and simple (some might say minimalist) style of dress: men wear solid coloured shirts, broad-rimmed hats, and plain suits; women wear calf-length dresses in muted colours, along with bonnets and aprons. 

 

The aim is to fit in and look like everyone else; not to express individuality or draw attention to the body. For to take pride in one's appearance is regarded as sinful by the Amish and one of the things that there is fierce disagreement over within their world is the question of fastenings. 

 

Those within the more orthodox Old Order disdain the use of buttons, which are seen as far too flashy and veering dangerously away from the functional towards the ornamental. Instead, they advocate the use of hook and eye fastenings to secure their clothing (or, if needs must, metal snaps). Only the more progressive Mennonites have fancy buttons on their garments ...    

 

The irony here is that whilst they say they don't care about appearance or fashion, the Amish obviously care about even the smallest detail of their dress in a manner which is almost fetishistic. In trying so hard to make themselves look inconspicuous, they succeed only in making themselves more noticeable. 

 

 

4: Teenage Rampage: The Amish Have a Word For It ...

One might assume that Amish parents would be particularly strict with their adolescent offspring. And, by the standards of the English (i.e. the outside world), they are. 

 

But, having said that, they do cut teenagers some slack, allowing behaviour which would almost certainly result in the shunning of an adult. They even have a term for this period of tolerated nonconformity: Rumspringa - a Pennsylvanian German term that means running around, or jumping about, though it should be noted that not all Amish youth choose to rebel against established norms and customs. 

 

Rumspringa is also the time for romance and finding a potential spouse. Boys get to ride around in a small courting-buggy and girls get to paint their yard-gate blue, indicating that they are of marriageable age and affable.      

 

At the end of this de facto rite of passage - and it must be stressed that adolescents are not formally given permission to go wild and still remain under the authority of their parents - a youth must decide whether they wish to be baptised into the Amish church or leave the community; something which would be a major decision to make at any age, let alone sixteen [3].

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The term Amish was originally used as an insult or term of disgrace [Schandename] for followers of Jakob Amman who, unhappy with the way things were going within his local church of Anabaptists, decided to break away in 1693. 

      Then, in the latter part of the 19th-century the Amish divided into a hardcore Old Order and a more progressive new group known as the Amish Mennonites. The latter were less concerned about retaining traditional culture at all costs and had no objection to members adapting to the modern world. When most people think of the Amish, they are usually thinking - as I am here - of the Old Order.      

 

[2] Demut (humility) is a key concept for the Amish; one which is founded upon a rejection of Hochmut (self-regard or arrogance). 

      Another important idea is that of Gelassenheit, which we might translate into English as calmness or serenity, but which within the Anabaptist tradition of Christian mysticism also implies a passive submission to the will of God and an acceptance of the way things are; a letting-be, if you want it in more Heideggerian terms (and, of course, Heidegger borrowed this concept of Gelassenheit and absorbed it into his own later thinking). 

      For the Amish, Gelassenheit also entails a yielding of the present to the traditions of the past; their way of life is the antithesis of the modern world's aggressive individualism and obsession with newness and progress. In this way, the Amish are profoundly un-American.      

 

[3] The vast majority - between 85 and 90% - of Amish teenagers do in fact choose to be baptised and remain within their community, so clearly the parents are doing something right and the lifestyle offered has a strong appeal for those reared within it. For those interested in knowing more about this topic, see Tom Shachtman's Rumspringa: To Be or Not to Be Amish, (North Point Press, 2006) and/or Richard A. Stevick's book, Growing up Amish: The Teenage Years, (John Hopkins University Press, 2007). See also the documentary dir. Lucy Walker entitled The Devil's Playground (2002): click here to watch an early-stage fundraising reel (there was no official trailer made for the film).

 

Bonus: an amusing clip from episode 3 of Kevin Eldon's BBC Two sketch show - It's Kevin - featuring the Amish Sex Pistols making a mug of an Amish Bill Grundy: click here. The episode aired on 31 March 2013. To watch the sketch alongside the original interview with Johnny Rotten and friends from December 1976: click here.     

 

 

D. H. Lawrence is all the Rage

 James K. Walker and an outsider art style portrait of DHL

 

I. 

 

There are not many joyous events to look forward to in November: All Souls' Day, Bonfire Night, and Katxu's birthday - that's really about it. However, I'm pleased to announce an addition to this short list; a presentation by bibliophile and promiscuous homotextual James Walker to the D. H. Lawrence London Group [1].  

James - a teacher, writer, and critic who describes himself as a digital storyteller - has assembled two major projects of note in collaboration with Paul Fillingham: The Sillitoe Trail (2012-13), which explored the enduring relevance of Saturday Night and Sunday Morning; and Dawn of the Unread (2014-16), a graphic novel celebrating Nottingham's literary heritage.

 

He is currently working on a transmedia project that will digitally recreate D. H. Lawrence's savage pilgrimage. It's this project - which James likes to describe as a Memory Theatre - which he'll be discussing in November, with particular reference to the subject of rage within the life and work of Lawrence. 

 

This obviously excites my interest, as I've recently been researching the ancient Greek concept of thymos (anger) which Plato named as one of the three constituent parts of the human psyche; the others being logos (reason) and eros (sexual desire) and which Peter Sloterdijk locates as central within Western history, arguing that an active form of this emotion - i.e., free of ressentiment - might actually be something vital and productive.

 

And so, without wishing to anticipate in too great a detail what James might be planning to say, here are a few thoughts on Lawrence and rage that I'm hoping he'll develop ... 

 

 

II.

 

James isn't, of course, the first to have noticed (and been amused by) Lawrence's semi-permanent fury with himself, with others, and with the world at large. 

 

Geoff Dyer, for example, picked up on this in his study of Lawrence entitled Out of Sheer Rage (1997) and, twelve years prior, Anthony Burgess had offered his own passionate appreciation of Lawrence in an episode of The South Bank Show which aired on 20 January 1985 under the title 'The Rage of D. H. Lawrence' [2].  

 

I don't know why Lawrence was so often so angry; some commentators have suggested it was symptomatic of his TB [3]; others take a more psychological approach and discuss Lawrence and his work in terms of behavioural disorders such as social anxiety disorder and intermittant explosive disorder. 

 

Again, I have no idea if Lawrence was bipolar, although he did seem to swing from periods of depression to periods marked by an abnormally elevated mood - but then, who doesn't? 

 

And it's important to note that Lawrence - perhaps aware of his own public image - often played up his anger for comic effect, as in the famous letter to Edward Garnett in which he curses his critics and fellow countrymen: 

 

"Curse the blasted, jelly-boned swines, the slimy, the belly-wriggling invertebrates, the miserable sodding rotters, the flaming sods, the snivelling, dribbling, dithering palsied pulse-less lot that make up England today. They've got white of egg in their veins, and their spunk is that watery it's a marvel they can breed. They can but frog-spawn - the gibberers! God, how I hate them! God curse them, funkers. God blast them, wish-wash. Exterminate them, slime." [4]

   

Only someone with no sense of humour would mistake this for genuine anger; it's Lawrence doing what writers love to do most, i.e., play with words.

Having said that, I think we can characterise even Lady Chatterley's Lover as a thymotic text and not simply an erotic novel or piece of romantic fiction. It's as much about Mellors raging against the class system, industrial capitalism, modern technology, poaching cats, crying children, ex-wives and girlfriends, lesbians, and contemporary art, as it is about Connie's sexual awakening. 

 

And I think we should also mention that there were occasions when Lawrence's rage was genuine and took a nasty, violent turn. I'm sure James will refer to the verbal and physical abuse suffered by Lawrence's wife Frieda, for example, and the incident involving poor Bibbles the dog (readers who would like reminding of these things can go to a post on the subject by clicking here).      

III.

 

Anger is an energy, as John Lydon once sang [5]. And, as a matter of fact, he's right; those experiencing rage have high levels of adrenaline and this increases physical strength and sharpens senses, whilst also inhibiting the sensation of pain. 

 

Rage, in other words, enables individuals to do things that they might otherwise be incapable of (and if you don't believe me or Rotten, ask Dr. Bruce Banner).  

 

And with that, it's over to you James ...

 

Notes

[1]  James Walker's presentation to the Lawrence London Group is via Zoom on 26 November 2020, between 6.30 and 8.30 pm local time. For further details of the event and for information on the DHL London Group, visit Catherine Brown's website by clicking here.  

 

[2] Readers who are interested in watching this episode of The South Bank Show [S08/E11] can find it on YouTube in four parts: click here for part 1.

[3] Katherine Mansfield, who was herself consumptive and "subject to outbursts of uncontrollable rage", also believed this. See David Ellis, Death and the Author, (Oxford University Press, 2008) p. 15. 

[4] D. H. Lawrence, letter to Edward Garnett, dated 3 July 1912, in The Letters of D. H. Lawrence, Vol. I, ed. James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 1979), pp.420-22. Lines quoted are on p. 422. 

 

[5] Play 'Rise', by Public Image Ltd., a single release from the album Album (Virgin Records, 1986), by clicking here.