Some of the sweetest lines written about Rotten were penned by Sebastian Horsley in his 2007 memoir, Dandy in the Underworld:
"Johnny Rotten was Rimbaud reborn in Finsbury Park. He had all the unmistakable signs - the charismatic aura, the dandy's narcissism, the canny look of the holy tramp ... he even had the Gorgon's glare - the metaphor for the hypnotic power of vision, genius or madness." [57]
As Horsley rightly notes, Rotten was, in his punk heyday, flawless and blazingly beautiful: a true star who hated all other stars for failing to shine with his own intensity and integrity. Beneath the safety pins and the sarcasm, was a pure heart and a fierce intelligence and in the summer of '77, when he was being attacked in the streets of London by razor-wielding thugs acting in the name of queen and country, I hung on every word he said and adopted every gesture, every pose, every sneer. He articulated what a generation felt and he embodied how we wanted to look.
And for many years, I continued to hold Rotten in high regard and to have great affection for him; even though I was much closer in spirit to Malcolm and ultimately chose the latter's anarchic good humour and chutzpah over Lydon's increasing self-righteousness and self-indulgence.
But it's got to the point today, I have to admit, where I can no longer stand to hear or see him. It's not merely that Rotten's lost his voice, his charm, and his sense of style; it's not even those butter adverts, his increasingly oafish behaviour, or that unseemly incident at the Mojo Awards in 2008 involving a young Welsh songstress.
For me, the final straw came with his embarrassing appearance on Question Time last year, in which he offered a few ridiculous platitudes and shamelessly played to the gallery as he looked to exploit popular sentiment. Rotten, sadly, has become the embittered, bullying, rambling and reactionary pub bore whom only morons could possibly find entertaining.
Where once we looked in awe and could not take our eyes off him, there is nothing to do now but look away ...
And for many years, I continued to hold Rotten in high regard and to have great affection for him; even though I was much closer in spirit to Malcolm and ultimately chose the latter's anarchic good humour and chutzpah over Lydon's increasing self-righteousness and self-indulgence.
But it's got to the point today, I have to admit, where I can no longer stand to hear or see him. It's not merely that Rotten's lost his voice, his charm, and his sense of style; it's not even those butter adverts, his increasingly oafish behaviour, or that unseemly incident at the Mojo Awards in 2008 involving a young Welsh songstress.
For me, the final straw came with his embarrassing appearance on Question Time last year, in which he offered a few ridiculous platitudes and shamelessly played to the gallery as he looked to exploit popular sentiment. Rotten, sadly, has become the embittered, bullying, rambling and reactionary pub bore whom only morons could possibly find entertaining.
Where once we looked in awe and could not take our eyes off him, there is nothing to do now but look away ...
No comments:
Post a Comment