Five Brief Notes on Rockism, Poptimism, and Authenticity (With Reference to Malcolm McLaren and the Sex Pistols)

Cover by Jamie Reid for the Sex Pistols' single 'Silly Thing' 

released from the album The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle 

 (Virgin Records, 1979) [1]

 

 

I. 

 

Those elderly punks who maintain that Never Mind the Bollocks is the only true Sex Pistols album are clinging desperately to an ideal of authenticity that is central to what has become known as rockism.

 

 

II.

 

This neologism, coined in 1981 by the musician Pete Wyley, soon became a pejorative used enthusiastically by music journalists such as Paul Morley [2], who were sick and tired of the idealistic fantasy that rock music matters - and matters more than other genres of popular music - because the performers really mean it man and just 'one great rock show can change the world.' [3]

 

Perhaps my favourite definition of rockism was provided by the critic Kelefa Sanneh, in 2004: 

 

"Rockism means idolizing the authentic old legend (or underground hero) while mocking the latest pop star; lionizing punk while barely tolerating disco; loving the live show and hating the music video; extolling the growling performer while hating the lip-syncher." [4]

 

 

III.

 

In contrast to the above, there are those think pop music - even at its most commercial and ephemeral - is just as worthy of serious consideration as hard and heavy rock. 

 

Now, whilst I wouldn't describe myself as a poptimist - and don't particularly worry about progressive values of inclusivity, etc. - my sympathies increasingly lie with those who prefer music that makes happy - makes you want to dance and singalong - to music that is overly earnest and makes miserable.

 

 

IV.

 

Funny enough, one of the reasons that Malcolm McLaren disliked Julien Temple's The Filth and the Fury (2000) was because in its downbeat revisionism it made the Sex Pistols' story seem a very sombre affair: 

 

"'I don't remember punk rock being like that. [...] I always remember it as a ticket to the carnival for a better life.'" [5]             

 

No wonder that The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle takes us to Rio de Janeiro and explores many different musical styles; from disco and punk pop to bawdy drinking songs. Whatever people like to think about McLaren, he was never one to take things too seriously.

 

 

V.

 

And yet, paradoxically perhaps, McLaren always retained a notion of authenticity; as something to be found beneath the ruins of culture in a similar manner that the beach is to be found beneath the paving stones. 

 

It's a non-ideal model of authenticity, however, invested with chaos and which, in his words, is dirty, horrible, and disgusting [6]. 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The single version, released on 30 March 1979, features Steve Jones on vocals; the album version, however, recorded in the spring of 1978, has Paul Cook on vocals. Click here to play the former, which reached number 6 in the UK Singles Chart. Or click here to see the unique interpretation given to the song by Legs & Co. on Top of the Pops (BBC1 12 April 1979).  

 

[2] See Paul Morley's article 'Rockism - it's the new rockism', in The Guardian (25 May 2006): click here. Interestingly, Morley warns here that when poptimism simply becomes another form of proscriptive ideology, it's little different from rockism. 

      See also Michael Hann's article 'Is Poptimism Now As Blinkered As the Rockism It Replaced?' for The Quietus (11 May 2017): click here.

 

[3] I'm quoting a line by the character Dewey Finn, played by Jack Black, in School of Rock (dir. Ricard Linklater, 2003).   

 

[4] Kelefa Sanneh, 'The Rap Against Rockism', in The New York Times (31 Oct 2004): click here. Unfortunately, it's difficult to argue with Sanneh's claim that rockism is ultimately "related to older, more familiar prejudices" of racism, sexism, and homophobia.

[5] Malcolm McLaren speaking with Geoffrey McNab, 'Malcolm McLaren: Master and Servant', Independent (31 May 2002): click here. Cited by Paul Gorman in The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren (Constable 2020), p. 718.  

 

[6] See the 1999 interview with Malcolm McLaren by Jefferson Hack; 'Another Malcolm McLaren Moment', in Another Magazine (7 May 2013): click here. 

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.  

Foucauldian Thoughts on Never Mind the Bollocks

Cover design by Jamie Reid for the Sex Pistols' compilation album 

Flogging a Dead Horse (Virgin Records, 1980), featuring the gold 

disc awarded to the band for sales of 500,000 copies of  

Never Mind the Bollocks ... (Virgin Records, 1977)

 

 

I.

 

Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols is the only studio album by English punk rock band the Sex Pistols. 

 

Released on 28 October 1977, by Virgin Records, it entered the UK Album Charts at number one, having achieved advance orders of 125,000 copies. Within weeks, it went gold and it remained a best-seller for most of the following year, spending 48 weeks in the top 75. 

 

In the many years since its original release, NMTB has been reissued on several occasions; most recently in 2017, proving that you can continue to flog a dead horse even when just the bare bones remain.   

 

NMTB has inspired many bands and musicians and is frequently listed by critics not merely as the most seminal punk album, but one of the greatest albums across all genres of popular music. In 2015, the album was officially inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame, the music industry thereby acknowledging its lasting qualitative and/or historical significance.

 

II. 

 

The idea that NMTB is the Sex Pistols' greatest achievement cannot be allowed to pass without close critical examination. Don't get me wrong - there are lots of things I love about it; the title, for example, and Jamie Reid's artwork for the sleeve. It even contains half-a-dozen or so songs that I still listen to today. 

 

However, rather than being viewed as an ideal reference point to which all later manifestations of what we term punk rock must nod, NMTB might be seen as just some product released, distributed, and promoted by Virgin Records. The belief that it somehow eludes and resists power and possesses radical or revolutionary properties, is simply a romantic fantasy. 

 

Of course, this isn't to deny that the myth of the Sex Pistols as anti-establishment hasn't proved to be commercially useful - or that it will cease to function in the immediate future. God's shadow is still to be seen long after his death and for a great number of fans the band continues to provide them with their most precious form of identity. Indeed, to such people NMTB is a kind of sacred artefact.

 

But it gets tedious, does it not? 

 

One grows tired of having to treat NMTB with reverence and bored of the austere monarchy of the Sex Pistols ruling over our thoughts and actions. Ultimately, one gratefully accepts the escape root from punk fandom and the worship of Saint Johnny offered by The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle ...

 

As Michel Foucault might say, in a postpunk future, many years from now, people will be unable to fathom our fascination with NMTB. And they will smile when they recall that there were once critics, like Robert Christgau, who believed that in the lyrics of the Sex Pistols resided forbidden ideas containing an undeniable truth value ...

 

 

On Punk, Pink, and Dollification

(L) SA wearing a pink gingham check shirt from Child of the Jago [1]

(R) Ken Doll wearing a pastel pink and mint green striped 

two-piece beach set by Mattel [2]

 

 

For me, pink is one of the essential colours of punk: which is undoubtedly why Jamie Reid used it (along with bright yellow and black) for the provocatively lurid sleeve of Never Mind the Bollocks and why, many years earlier, the proto-punk fashion designer Elsa Schiaparelli had created a shocking shade of pink to be synonymous with her brand. 

 

Thus, when I wore a pink (and white) ensemble for an event in Bloomsbury recently, I was confidently expecting it to be received within the context of the above history of art and fashion.

 

Unfortunately, there were some young people present that evening whose cultural references are far more contemporary and, in their eyes, I looked like a refugee from Barbie World - which is, arguably, a little unkind, if not entirely unfair: after all, who wants to be thought of as a human doll? 

 

Having said that, if it's okay for Ryan Gosling to be dolled up and dollified, for his role as Ken in the movie Barbie (dir. Greta Gerwig, 2023), then why should I worry?

 

And even Sid Vicious was ultimately reduced to the status of an action figure following his death (if not, indeed, years prior to his tragic and untimely demise) - although, sadly, not wearing the pair of pink peg-leg pants that he loved so much ... [4] 

     

 

 Jamie Reid: Sid Vicious Action Man 

£12.50 [3]

 

Notes

 

[1] Photo by Paul Gorman taken on 7 Sept 2023 outside Treadwell's Bookshop (London)

 

[2] Anyone interested in buying the doll (£44.99) can visit the Mattel website by clicking here. 

 

[3] This image by Jamie Reid was used to promote the Sex Pistols single 'Something Else', released from the album The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (Virgin Records, 1979). The original poster is in the Jamie Reid archive at the V&A and can be viewed online by clicking here. Obviously, Reid is critiquing the co-option and commodification of punk by the Spectacle (as well as, perhaps, the exploitation of dead performers, who will never be allowed to rest in peace so long as they can still shift product). 

 

[4] Sid can be seen wearing these pink pegs in a short film on Youtube provided by ITV Channel Television, which shows the Sex Pistols at Jersey Airport in the summer of 1977 about to board a plane, having been officially ordered to leave the island: click here. Paul Gorman informs me that Sid had actually borrowed the trousers from guitarist Steve Jones, who had bought them years earlier from Let It Rock.  

 

 

For a post published back in Feb 2019 on the politics of pink, 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.

On Revolutionary Fun (A Message for May Day)

If you make a revolution, writes Lawrence, don't act with ascetic militancy in the name of some grand ideal, or in order to seize control of the economy; make it simply for the pleasure of gobbing in the eye of those who would assert authority and the anarchic joy of upsetting the old order.

As a manifesto, this will doubtless strike many terrorists of theory interested in preserving the pure order of politics and the serious business of revolution, as puerile and irresponsible; the sort of romantic tosh that only a poet can get away with.

Nevertheless, it rather nicely anticipates the poststructuralist thinking that flourished prior to, during, and after the festive upheaval of May '68 and, indeed, encapsulates the insouciant nihilism of punk as conceived by a Situationist-inspired Malcolm McLaren in the mid-late Seventies.    

What unites Lawrence with Deleuze and ties Anti-Oedipus to Never Mind the Bollocks, is a perverse refusal to conform to the accepted way of doing things as prescribed by tradition (be it a literary, philosophical, or artistic tradition); they challenge and change the terms of the debate and shift the zone of combat, discrediting old idols in the process.

But above all, these figures and these works show us that we do not have to be sad or self-serious in order to be radical. Thus, paraphrasing Lawrence if I may: If you want to torpedo the ark, don't do it in ghastly seriousness, don't do it in deadly earnest - do it for fun.


See: D. H. Lawrence, 'A Sane Revolution', in The Complete Poems, ed. Vivian de Sola Pinto and F. Warren Roberts, (Penguin Books, 1977).