Showing posts with label johnny rotten. Show all posts
Showing posts with label johnny rotten. Show all posts

2 Oct 2025

Russ Bestley: 'Turning Revolt Into Style' (2025): Notes on Chapters 6-8

Russ Bestley: Turning Revolt Into Style (Manchester University Press, 2025)
Stephen Alexander (à la Jamie Reid): God Save Russ Bestley (2025)
 
 
I. 
 
I have my own tale to tell in relation to the theme of Chapter 6 - 'Industry and the Individual' - or punk vs the closed shop. 
 
In 1982, I worked for six weeks at 19 Magazine in the features department, on an attachment as part of a degree course. I arranged and conducted an interview with Vivienne Westwood at her West End studio. The fashion editor at 19 wasn't happy - as I’d not sought her permission - and the NUJ rep wasn't happy either, as I wasn't a member nor even a paid employee. And so, even though the features editor loved the piece I wrote on Westwood, it went unpublished. 
 
I hate the bosses and the management. But, despite "intersecting concerns regarding class" [a] and worker's rights, I hate the unions and their restrictive practices too.
 
 
II.
 
"By the late 1970s, the original punk scene in the United Kingdom had been largely commercialised through the rebranding of new wave and post-punk ..." [200] 
 
That's true: but we should also recall that "some of the movement's more successful exponents" [200] were more than happy to collaborate in this and to assume elevated positions within "a revised and updated professional arena" [200]; i.e., to build careers and to make something of their lives.    
 
In other words, there were ambitious and aspirational individuals who wanted to get ahead had no issue with transforming from punks into yuppies and celebrities:
 
"The entrepreneurial spirit of punk [...] afforded entry to the fields of journalism, popular music, film, photography and design for those who chose to take the opportunity and run with it." [200] 
 
Some may still have pretended they wanted to 'smash the system' or 'disrupt it from the inside', but we all know most simply wanted to feather their own little nests and, whilst wearing their designer suits, turn rebellion into money.   
 
"To some critics", writes Bestley, "it was like punk had never happened" [200] [b]. 
 
Or, rather, I would say, it was as if the Sex Pistols had never existed.
 
 
III.
 
On the other hand ... 
 
I don't much care either for those who continued to cling on to a "stereotypical model of punk [...] despite the proliferation of new styles and the fragmentation of post-punk in myriad new directions" [201]. To paraphrase Jello Biafra: 'you ain't hardcore 'cause you spike your hair / when a [stuckist] still lives inside your head [c].     
 
Like Bestley, I'm less than impressed by hardcore punks in the early 1980s who "seem fixated on death, destruction and war, with little of the humour or self-awareness of the previous punk generation" [202]. 
 
And the hardcore punk designers were less than imaginative too, giving us "illustrations of stereotypical 'punk' figures replete with studded leather jackets and mohican hairstyles" [202] which have helped to establish "a set of generic graphic conventions that unfortunately still resonates across global punk scenes today" [202].
 
Bestley concludes: 
 
"Unlike the first wave of punk designers, who quickly moved on from what were fast becoming stereotypical visual symbols - such as the swastika, safety pin and razor blade - this punk generation seemed stuck in a time loop (or doom loop) of its own making." [202]
 
 
IV.   
 
Away from the hardcore dinosaurs, "punk and post-punk dress styles shifted [...] to the more flamboyant and expressive end of the dressing up box" [204], as a colourful new romanticism replaced punk nihilism; in 1980, McLaren and Westwood closed Seditionaries and opened Worlds End; out with the black bondage trousers and in with the gold striped pirate pants. 
 
Ultimately, writes Bestley, "the punk 'revolution' was to prove largely ineffective in its ambition to move away from pop music traditions and long-standing business practices, with many artists [...] falling into line as the industry took control" [204]. 
 
Rather irritatingly, Bestley (like so many others) seems prepared to let Rotten off the hook and give him far more credit than he deserves:
 
"Seeing the winds of change, Sex Pistols vocalist Johnny Rotten quit the band at the end of a disastrous North American tour in January 1978. Going back to his real name, John Lydon, he quickly established a new group, Public Image Ltd., with the explicit intention to turn the image of the rock performer upside down and to critique the exploitative practices of the music indusry from the inside." [204]
 
Firstly, Rotten didn't 'quit the band'; he was thrown overboard by McLaren with the agreement (or, if you prefer, connivance) of Cook and Jones who didn't like the fact Rotten was behaving like a prima donna, if not actually morphing into Rod Stewart [d].
 
Secondly, the North American tour may have been ill-starred, but it was not 'disastrous' in the sense that I think Bestley means. Rather, it was the consummation (or perfecting) of the nihilism that always lay at the heart of the Sex Pistols project and should be celebrated as such. Rotten's was a necessary sacrifice; just as Sid's death, which secured his tragic and iconic status, is a promise of life and its eternal recurrence [e].         
Thirdly, whatever his 'intentions' we all know 'Lydon' [f] signed an eight album record deal with Virgin and received a £75,000 advance from Branson [g] soon after exiting the Sex Pistols, with the latter promising to promote PiL at the forefront of the post-punk scene.   
 
And we all know the abject figure Lydon is today [click here and here].  
 
 
V.
 
This is true enough - and a good thing, I think:
 
"The new post-punk scenes moved away from focusing purely on music and lyrics to far more visual expressions of style and taste, along with a wider range of philosophical and aesthetic concerns ..." [207]
 
I'm not sure that references to oblique postmodern theory by music journalists such as Paul Morley necessarily makes them pretentious, however. And, besides, surely we might question the supposed moral merits of humility? The dreary utilitarianism (and realism) of the English intellectual tradition is not something I would wish to defend.  
 
After all, pretension is a form of pretending and, as my friend Thomas Tritchler likes to remind me, pretending is a vital and productive act of the imagination [h]. 
  
 
VI. 

Anyone for electronic music ...? 
 
No thanks: I don't care about (or care for) the Human League, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Ultravox, Gary Numan ... et al
 
As Malcolm always said: 'A man sitting on a mountain top tapping two sticks together makes a much bigger sound than all the electronic music of today.' 
 
And who really wants to see pop stars standing behind synthesisers like clerks behind the counter of a hightstreet bank?     
 
 
VII. 
 
Bestley closes Chapter 7 with a couple of paragraphs that essentially summarise the book and so merit being quoted at length:
 
"Graphic design and commercial art have a long-standing relationship with both advances in technology [...] and artistic or cultural trends. While this book has argued that much punk graphic design was heavily impacted - or even driven - by access to materials and technology, punk's visual provocations clearly also had antecedents in Dada, Surrealism and the Situationist International, together with Pop Art and its inherent critique of the distinction between fine art and the commercial arena ... But those connections were often indistinct, serendipitous and stylistic, rather than formal - and the same can be said of the similarities between post-punk or new wave music graphics and the new styles emanating from American and European designers in response to postmodernism." [230]
 
"As all these converging themes illustrate, the historical relationships between punk, art history and design are highly complex, with punk and post-punk graphic approaches drawing upon earlier visual conventions while they themselves helped to inspire a new generation of design professionals working outside the subculture. Whether that fits the model of postmodernist theory or not is something of a moot point, since punk's historical moment intersects so closely with wider changes in the arts, media and politics that it is almost impossible to separate causes from consequences." [230-31][i]   
 
 
VIII. 
 
"Popular music has changed irrevocably in the past forty years." [233] 
 
Well, that's true - but then everything has changed, hasn't it? Change is the only constant (becoming is ironically stamped with the character of being, as Nietzsche might say) [j]. 
 
One of the things that has significantly changed for Bestley is the fact that popular music no longer plays such a crucial role in the lives of the young: "The  notion of music as a core element of personal identity and (sub)cultural capital seemed to fall away in the 1990s, a process that accelerated in the new millennium." [235]
 
When Bestley and I were teenagers, the first question we would ask of anyone was: What bands d'you like? And that pretty much determined the relationship (or lack of relationship) going forward. 
 
But young people today pick 'n' mix from a variety of music genres and have a much wider range of interests; "from film to fashion, celebrity culture, sports, literature and the arts" [235]. They don't care about shared communal identity so much as their individual right to like what they like and share selfies on social media.   
 
This doesn't bother me as much as it bothers Bestley, who bemoans the fact that pop music is once again "simply a form of light entertainment or background noise" [235] and that rock music was also sent into sharp decline by "banal television 'talent' shows and the return of the pop music Svengali in the odious form of Simon Cowell" [235]. 
 
As for punk? Well, punk "became recuperated [...] through the cementing of a set of visual and musical tropes that could be picked up and regurgitated in the affectation [...] of a generic 'punk' identity" [235].
 
Indie, meanwhile, is dismissed as "the bastardised offspring of the original independent post-punk scene, combined with a postmodern, sometimes ironic and often conceited form of self-reflection in musical approach, dress style and design" [236]. 
 
And, finally, don't mention the post-punk revival of the early 2000s; because that was merely a commercial pastiche "with highly successful groups adopting some of the gestures and signature styles of their late 1970s forebears, though often with little of the wit or intelligence" [236].
 
Ouch!  
 
Even today's reinvigorated interest in music graphics is greeted with more sorrow than joy: 
 
"Sadly, this interest is often linked to home decor and interior styling, with 'album art' displayed on bookshelves or in purpose-made frames hung on the wall - a marker of the owner's cool taste and cultural capital, rather than an object with a function and purpose." [236]
 
Again, all this is absolutely true, but I simply don't feel his pain. 
 
As for themed live events and corporate festivals ... the answer is: don't go! 
 
I wouldn't dream of heading up to Blackpool for the Rebellion Festival, although, funnily enough, I wouldn't mind visiting the Punk Rock Museum in Las Vegas that Bestley mentions; "a massive former warehouse building in the Arts District. now dedicated to preserving the history and heritage of punk rock while offering guided tours led by ageing pop punk musicians" [237] - and a gift shop!
 
Like it or not, this is who we are today; not fans in the old (authentic) sense, but consumers in search of a simulated (or ersatz) experience they can be posted about on Instagram or uploaded to YouTube [k]. 
 
Malcolm McLaren decried such toward the end of his life as a karoake culture - i.e., one which lacks substance and originality and relies upon pre-existing ideas and old styles constantly being recycled and repackaged - and, to be honest, I'm a little disappointed Bestley didn't refer to McLaren's TED Talk on this topic [l].  
  

IX.   
 
Returning to his theme (not quite like the proverbial dog to its vomit, but like someone with an itch that they simply have to scratch, even if it causes irritation to do so), Bestley writes:
 
"Punk's visual conventions [...] were appropriated, mimicked and blatantly copied by a rampant branding and marketing industry that is always on the lookout for material that might communicate an elusive sense of authenticity and agency. From trainers to power tools, credit cards to hamburgers, punk graphic conventions have been milked for all they are worth in the pursuit of profit. [...] Meanwhile, identikit, cosplay 'punks' around the globe adopt outfits lifted directly from the stylistic dead end of 1980s hardcore punk, in a desperate search for subcultural legitimacy." [237]
 
Again, all of that is true, but one wonders why Bestley cares so much (to the point, indeed, of writing a 250 page book about it)? I suppose it's because he believes that just as beneath the paving stones lies the beach, so there is "much more" [238] beneath the surface of punk and post-punk graphic design than meets the eye. 
 
What would this hidden punk substance "beyond stylistic gestures and visual tropes" [238] be one wonders? And why should it have priority over the latter? 
 
I suspect, for Bestley, this (metaphysical) substance consists of content, function and purpose and is what guarantees that the superficial (material) expressions of punk possess value and meaning. 
 
I have to admit, I find that a little odd coming from a graphic designer. One might have expected him to remain courageously at the surface, affirming forms, tones, and words; i.e., the world of appearance [m] (which is perhaps the only world that exists for us).  
 
Unfortunately, we do not have time to enter here into a philosophical discussion about "punk as a concept and its manifestation" [247] in physical form (a statement almost Platonic in its dualism which makes me wonder if punk wasn't simply another form of idealism all along).    
 
 
Notes
 
[a] Russ Bestley, Turning Revolt Into Style: The process and practice of punk graphic design (Manchester University Press, 2025), p. 190. All future page references to this work will be given directly in the post. 
 
[b] Writing in the following chapter of his study, Bestley notes: 
      "Even the arch Situationist behind punk's original graphic provocations, Jamie Reid, found a creative home in the mid-1980s, taking up the offer of a studio at Assorted Images to develop his art practice. While Reid never did make the leap to the commercial graphic design industry, he did continue to collaborate with musicians, artists, filmmakers and political activists, embracing the potential of new print reproduction tools to create a new aesthetic." [215] 
 
[c] The paraphrased line is from the Dead Kennedy's track 'Nazi Punks Fuck Off', written by Jello Biafra, and found on the EP In God We Trust, Inc. (Alternative Tentacles, 1981). It was also released as a single in November of that year.   
 
[d] For more on Rotten's dismissal from the band in January 1978, see the post entitled 'It Was on the Good Ship Venus ...' (4 March 2024): click here
      As indicated here, Rotten was starting to develop certain starry pretensions and thinking about how he might develop a long-term (possibly solo) career in the music industry. In this, he had the backing of record company executives, who saw him as a valuable asset and someone whom - unlike McLaren - they could work with (see note g below). 
 
[e] See the post 'Sid Vicious Versus the Crucified' (3 Feb 2024) - click here - where I explain what I mean by this.  
 
[f] On being told that 'Johnny Rotten' was a name owned by the Sex Pistols management company (Glitterbest), John Lydon reverted to his birth name.  
 
[g] Lydon also enjoyed a very nice, all expenses paid 'working holiday' in Jamaica, staying at the Sheraton hotel, accompanied by Richard Branson and others in the first three weeks of February 1978. In addition, Virgin agreed to pay for the rehearsal facilities and studio time for the new group Lydon planned to get together.  
       Later that same month, Lydon also flies to LA for a meeting with executives at Warner Bros. and to solicit further support for his (still unformed) new band. They eventually pay him £12,000 and Lydon uses the cash to buy a flat at 45 Gunter Grove in Fulham, West London. 
      Finally, let it be noted that when Lydon takes McLaren and Glitterbest to court in 1979, Virgin - supposedly neutral and in favour of an out of court settlement that will allow both the Sex Pistols and Public Image Limited to peacefully coincide on the same label - are clearly more in Lydon's camp than McLaren's. 
      The public school hippie Richard Branson - "four years younger [...] but by far the smarter businessman" - was arguably motivated by a degree of personal animosity towards McLaren; not least because he disliked the derisive nickname, Mr Pickle, that the latter coined for him. When Cook and Jones were offered a record deal of their own by Branson, the former Sex Pistols switched sides and Glitterbest's case (such as it was) pretty much collapsed. 
      Note: the line quoted is from Paul Gorman, The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren (Constable, 2020), p. 355.
 
[h] See the third part of Tritchler's post on the malign/ed art of faking it (27 Dec. 2014): click here.   
 
[i] One wonders if Bestley has ever considered the possibility that there are no causes and consequences - i.e., that the theory of cause and effect is a convenient and conventional fiction that we impose on reality in order to simplify and understand the complex chaos of events and which enables us to posit concepts such as free will and moral responsibility.  
 
[j] See §617 of The Will to Power, trans. and ed. by Walter Kaufmann (Vintage Books, 1968), p. 330.  
 
[k] As Bestley later notes: 
      "Viewed from a contemporary vantage point, 'spectacular subcultures' such as punk, that centered on tribal affiliations and subtle (or not so subtle) visual tropes, appear to have come from another age. The internet, personal blogs, influencers, social media and search engines have redefined modes of discovery, criticism and taste-making." [247] 
 
[l] See McLaren's TED Talk on the topic of authentic creativity contra karaoke culture (October 2009): click here
       I have to admit, McLaren rather surprises - and rather disappoints - with this return to highly suspect notions of authenticity, originality, substance, etc. Here was a man who once celebrated style and, as an artist, understood the importance of the surface (see note m below). 
      It pains me to say it, but one wonders if, in this final public presentation, it's fatigue, and age and illness that speaks (McLaren died six months afterwards, aged 64, from a form of asbestos-related lung cancer (mesothelioma)).    
 
[m] I'm half-quoting and half-paraphrasing from section 4 of Nietzsche's 1886 Preface to The Gay Science, written in praise of those artists who, like the ancient Greeks, knew how to be superficial out of profundity.   
   

Notes on the Introduction to Russ Bestley's Turning Revolt Into Style can be read by clicking here
 
Notes on Chapters 1 & 2 of Russ Bestley's Turning Revolt Into Style can be read by clicking here
 
Notes on Chapters 3-5 of Russ Bestley's Turning Revolt Into Style can be read by clicking here
 

28 Sept 2025

Russ Bestley: 'Turning Revolt Into Style' (2025): Notes on the Introduction

Russ Bestley: Turning Revolt Into Style 
(Manchester University Press, 2025) [a]
 
 
I. 
 
Russ Bestley is Reader in Graphic Design & Subcultures at London College of Communication (UAL) and someone who knows more - and has written more - over the last thirty years about punk, graphic design, and popular culture than Monsieur Mangetout has had odd dinners [b]
 
And so, if one is only ever going to read one book on the process and practice of punk graphic design, I would recommend it be Bestley's latest work, Turning Revolt Into Style - a solidly written and nicely illustrated book about which I'd like to share a few thoughts here and in a series of posts to follow.
 
 
II. 
 
Just to be clear at the outset, I don't have a background in graphic design or the visual arts and most of the names mentioned by Bestley mean nothing to me.  
 
However, I've always regarded Jamie Reid as an important member of the Sex Pistols (referring to the wider gang, rather than merely the four-piece group consisting of Cook, Jones, Rotten and Vicious) and a strong case could be made that his designs for the record sleeves are at least as important and as powerful as the black shiny discs they enclose [c].  
 
In other words, the art (fashion and politics) of punk probably means more to me than the music [d], so Bestley's book was always going to attract my attention; especially with a title which both echoes George Melley's celebrated 1970 study of the music business [e] and a line from 'White Man in Hammersmith Palais' (turning rebellion into money) [f].  
 
 
III.
 
Bestley wisely limits his study to the UK punk scene in the late 1970s and early '80s, even whilst acknowledging that punk is now a global phenomenon with a long history behind it; books that try to encompass everything and speak to everyone invariably fail. 
 
And besides, the core elements of the punk aesthetic - or what Bestley likes to call punk's visual language - were formed very early on by the "extreme ideological wing of the Peculiars" [g] who hung around at 430 King's Road. 
 
The book addresses two key questions: "how did a generation of young, punk-inspired graphic designers navigate the music graphics profession in the late 1970s and early 1980s?" and "how did significant changes in printing technology, labour relations and working practices in the design profession impact their work during that period?" [1-2] 
 
Whilst the second question is doubtless important, it doesn't really excite my interest as much as the first question. 
 
And so, whilst I will certainly read what Bestley says in relation to the latter and offer some commentary, for the most part my remarks here will focus on the answer he provides to the former (even at the risk of thereby missing the point of the book, which is to situate punk's visual aesthetic both within cultural history and the technological, professional, and political contexts that materially shaped it).  
 
 
IV. 
 
Punk, says Bestley, "is a phenomenon that is difficult to define in simple terms" [4]
 
And whilst I know what he means, one is tempted to suggest that the word itself has always been a misunderstanding and one that Rotten wisely rejected when asked about by it in a pre-Grundy TV interview with Maggie Norden [h].    
 
At best, the word punk acts as a point of cultural consistency within the chaotic flow of difference and becoming; it does not refer to some kind of essence upon which a stable identity can be fixed (i.e., it's a superficial marker; a convenient fiction). 
 
Personally, I would encourage individuals to break free from the term so as to enter into an anonymous and nomadic state of pure potentiality. Unfortunately, however, the world is full of idiots who identify with the term and spend their days declaring punk's not dead.   
 
Ultimately, the word punk refers to the process by which the radical ideas and images born at 430 King's Road were recuperated by mainstream culture and bourgeois society; the process by which the Sex Pistols were neutered, disarmed, and commercially commodified in exactly the manner parodied in The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (1980) and illustrated by Reid on the cover of Some Product: Carri On Sex Pistols (1979) [i].  

 
V. 

I know Rotten includes a line in E. M. I. about not judging a book by its cover - unless you cover just another - but I've never liked this idiomatic piece of moralism. As D. H. Lawence says, it is born of our dread of intuitional awareness and "if you don't judge by appearances, that is, if you can't trust the impression which things make on you, you are a fool" [j].    
 
So, I smiled when Bestley seemed to lend support to the idea that whilst design "may offer an aesthetically pleasing or appropriately functional window to content" [8] it is seldom the focal point and there are very few people who would "purchase a book or record purely for its cover" [8]
 
And I smiled too when he wrote: "books are to be read, records to be listened to" [8]. Because there are some books, such as Deleuze and Guattari's Mille plateaux (1980), which encourage readers to play them exactly as one would a record; starting with your favourite track or chapter, skipping the ones you don't much like, etc. [k]       
 
 
VI.
 
Finally, let me just say that the section within Bestley's Introduction for which I'm most grateful is the one which provides a punk design historiography. It really is an astonishing overview that is immensely useful to one such as myself who knows very little of the literature produced on this topic. 
 
In fact, of all the books mentioned here, the only two I know well are Jon Savage's England's Dreaming (1991) and Griel Marcus's Lipstick Traces (1989); the latter of which Bestley describes as "deeply flawed - and unfathomably influential" [13][l], although I know that Malcolm always loved the book (Rotten, predictably, less so).   
 
  
Notes
 
[a] All page numbers given in the post refer to this text.  
 
[b] Bestley 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
 
[c] For a post in memory of Jamie Reid who, sadly, died a couple of years ago, click here.
      Bestley is right to say that cover art "in many cases plays an intrinsic part in the cultural significance of 'iconic' albums". Never Mind the Bollocks, for example, would not be Never Mind the Bollocks, were it not for Reid's cover. It's the fluorescent pink and yellow cover that offers "special insight into the philosophy and character" of the Sex Pistols and which has a unique appeal "separate from the music" and over and above mere branding. See p. 7 of Turning Revolt Into Style.     
 
[d] Bestly recognises the tension beween "punk as attitude and ideology and punk as a new and distinct form of popular music" [5]. For McLaren, the music was the least important thing and a band that can't play is far more interesting and exciting than one who can. One of the final slogans used by Jamie Reid for his work with the Sex Pistols was: 'Music prevents you thinking for yourself.' 
  
[e] Melly, of course, borrowed the phrase revolt into style from a poem written by Thom Gunn about Elvis and published in his second collection of verse The Sense of Movement (1957). Quoting from memory, Gunn says that Presley peddles 'hackneyed words in hackneyed songs' and 'turns revolt into a style'. 
 
[f] '(White Man) in Hammersmith Palais' is a single by the Clash, released by CBS Records in June 1978. It got to number 32 in the UK charts.  
 
[g] This wonderful description of McLaren and company - the SEX shop people - was coined by Peter York in an article entitled 'Them' which appeared in Harpers & Queen (October 1976) and was quoted by Paul Gorman in The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren (Constable, 2020), p. 329.  
 
[h] The interview I refer to was broadcast on the BBC1 show Nationwide on 12 November 1976. Rotten insists that the word punk was imposed on the band by the press. For my discussion of the word, see the post published on 13 March 2025: click here.
      When I describe the term punk as a misunderstanding, I'm thinking of what Nietzsche writes of the word Christianity; namely, that it is a term derived from a system of beliefs based on a fundamental misinterpretation of the Gospel. In this case, punk is a huge failure to grasp the concept of the Sex Pistols - and this failure becomes nowhere more laughable than in the attempts to somehow sanitise their story and "shoehorn it into a retrosectively 'progressive' narrative that belies its original complexity and inherent contradictions" [4]. 
 
[i] For me, this process of recuperation began - and was completed - much sooner that I think it was for Bestley. He notes, for example, that by the year 2000 the punk movement had been "largely recuperated and institutionalised" and was "ripe for exploitation" [12]. I would date this at least twenty years earlier. 
      But arguing over dates as to when punk 'died' has always been a bit tiresome, so I'll not make a big deal of this and I agree with Bestley that this process of recuperation was largely achieved via the "cementing of a set of visual and musical tropes that could be picked up and regurgitated in the affectation - if not the performance - of a generic 'punk' identity" [235].    
 
[j] D. H. Lawrence, 'Introduction to These Paintings', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 192. 
      In Chapter 2 of his book, Bestley refers us to the cover of the XTC album Go2 (Virgin Records, 1978) which states that anyone who buys (or doesn't buy) an album 'merely as a consequence of the design on its cover' is FOOLISH. For the record, they were precisely the kind of band riding the crest of the new wave that I very much despised at the time. See Turning Revolt Into Style, pp. 86-87.   
 
[k] In a Foreword to his translation of this text, Brian Massumi, writes: 
      "How should A Thousand Plateaus be played? When you buy a record there are always cuts that leave you cold. You skip them. You don't approach a records as a closed book that you have to take or leave. Other cuts you may listen to over and over again. They follow you. You find yourself humming them under your breath as you go about your daily business." 
      See Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, (The Athlone Press, 1988), p. xiii-xiv.
 
[l] Later in the work Bestley will say: "Greil Marcus attempted (and largely failed) to make connections between the Sex Pistols, Dada, Surrealism and the philosophies of much earlier political agitators" [57]. That might be true, but it's often the case that we learn more from such failed attempts to form rhizomatic connections than we do from successful, self-contained books based on arborescent models that are proud of their own organic interiority, etc. 
      See what Deleuze and Guattari have to say on this in their Introduction to A Thousand Plateaus, pp. 3-25. 
 
 
The following post in this series - Notes on Chapters 1 & 2 - can be read by clicking here
 
 

25 Aug 2025

On the Three Punk Graces: Vivienne, Jordan, and Soo Catwoman

The Three Punk Graces: Soo, Jordan & Vivienne 
(SA/2025)
 
 
I.
 
The ancient Greeks may have famously had their Charites, but punk mythology has given us our very own version of the three Graces ...
 
Vivienne, Jordan, and Soo Catwoman may not have personified Classical notions of charm, beauty, and elegance, but they did embody the McLarenesque virtues of sex, style, and subversion; not so much the daughters of Zeus, as the offspring of Kháos (i.e., born of  a reality outside the known, familiar, and reliable world in which most people choose to make their home). 
 
 
II. 
 
Jordan, or Pamela Rooke as many commentators now insist on calling her (presumably in an attempt to unveil what they think of as the real human being beneath the beehive and facepaint and intimidating sexual persona) [1], was always more than just a superstar sales assistant; she was effectively the gatekeeper controlling access to 430 Kings Road, the sanctum sanctorum of punk, ensuring that the clothes were only worn by those who deserved to wear them [2].  
 
Everybody's favourite bleached platinum-blonde was the one who embodied the ethos and aesthetic of SEX so perfectly that we might legitimately call her the first Sex Pistol. And so it was only right that Jordan was the one to introduce the band on their first TV appearance in August 1976, attempting to inject a little further chaos into the proceedings by dancing and rearranging the furniture at the side of the stage [3]
 
Crucially, not only was Jordan willing to transform herself into a walking work of art and wear McLaren and Westwood's designs no matter how outrageous, but, when required to do so, she was also prepared to flash the flesh and get her tits out for the cause; stripped on stage by Johnny Rotten, for example [4], or posing with Vivienne and other members of the SEX fraternity for a notorious series of photos in the shop taken by David Dagley [5]
 
 
III. 
 
Although she wasn't a member of the Bromley Contingent, Sue Lucas - better known as Soo Catwoman - was a crucial (and much photographed) figure on London's early punk scene and a confidente of the Sex Pistols, at one time sharing a flat with Sid Vicious.  
 
Her distinctive feline image was so powerful that she was even chosen to feature on the front cover of the first (and only) edition of the official Sex Pistols' fanzine, Anarchy in the U. K. [6] and she was widely acknowledged - even by Rotten - as being one of the true creators of punk style.     
 
It goes without saying that I will always have affection for Miss Lucas - despite Bertie Marshall's less than flattering portrait of her [7]. But I can't say I'm impressed with her belated attempt to reclaim, protect, and market her own extraordinary look, in the naive belief - common amongst many punks - that authenticity is of absolute importance and that style is something that cannot (and should not) be copied [8]
 

IV. 
 
Finally, we come to the queen bee herself: Vivienne Westwood ... 
 
If, as argued here, Jordan was the one who put the sex in the Sex Pistols - and Soo was the Sex Pistols' devotee who demonstrated that theirs was first and foremost a revolt into style - then Vivienne, in collaboration with her partner Malcolm McLaren, was the woman who not only politicised sex and weaponised style with her fabulous clothes, but encouraged an entire generation to think it reasonable to demand the impossible
 
If, in her later years, Westwood became - like so many of the punk generation - increasingly irritating, it remains the case that she was an astonishing and massively influential figure and, as with Jordan and Soo Catwoman, I will always think of her with a certain fondness and admiration. 
 
In fact, despite certain competing loyalties, I feel increasingly generous toward Westwood in the years between 1971 and 1984 (i.e., the years stretching from Let It Rock to Worlds End when she was involved - in one way or another and for better or for worse - with McLaren).  
 
I would even go so far as to say that no one - not Jordan or Johnny Rotten, Soo Catwoman or Steve Jones - ever looked as magnificent as Westwood in her own designs and no one was as messianic about punk at the time as Vivienne, as this lovely photograph taken outside Seditionaries in the summer of 1977 by Elisa Leonelli illustrates:   
 
 


Notes
 
[1] It might be noted that Jordan chose the unisex autonym when aged 14, long before punk, so it was more than merely a nickname.   
 
[2] As she told one interviewer in 2016: 
      "Some people would come in the shop and just want to grab something because they had money and I would say [...] 'You can’t buy that. You shouldn't buy that, it's not for you'. [...] I wasn't prepared to sell things that looked awful on people just because they had the money to buy it. It would have been bastardising something beautiful just for the money." 
      McLaren and Westwood endorsed this policy of only selling things to those who could justify their wanting to purchase a piece of clothing (i.e., individuals who had the right attitude and shared their ideological perspective). 
      Following Jordan's death, the interview was reproduced in Dazed magazine (22 April 2022): click here.
 
[3] I'm referring of course to the band's brutally intense performance of 'Anarchy in the U. K.' on So It Goes, presented by Tony Wilson (Granada Television, 28 August 1976); one of the great moments in televised rock 'n' roll history, watched by an amused Peter Cook and an outraged Clive James. 
      Jordan, who has been asked by the show's producers to cover up the swastika armband on her Anarchy shirt, announces the Sex Pistols by declaring them to be "if possible, even better than the lovely Joni Mitchell": click here to watch the entire episode on YouTube. Jordan appears (briefly) at 1:09-1:14. And the band are introduced by Wilson beginning 21:14 ... Bakunin would've loved it.       
  
[4] The gig I'm referring to when Jordan graced the stage with the Sex Pistols and ended up topless took place at Andrew Logan's Studio, on 14 February, 1976.  
 
[5] The photos by Dagley were taken to illustrate an interview Westwood gave to Len Richmond for the adult magazine Forum, in which she discussed the kinky sexual politics she and Malcolm were promoting (involving bondage and rubber wear). As well as Jordan and Westwood, Steve Jones, Danielle Lewis, Alan Jones, and Chrissie Hynde, also pose provocatively for the pictures. They can be viewed on Shutterstock: click here.
 
[6] The 12 page fanzine, designed by Jamie Reid in collaboration with Sophie Richmond, Vivienne Westwood, Malcolm McLaren, and photographer Ray Stevenson, was intended to be sold on the 'Anarchy' tour in December 1976.  
 
[7] See p. 68 of Marshall's memoir - Berlin Bromley (SAF Publishing Ltd., 2007) - where he describes Lucas as a wannabe member of the Bromely Contingent who not only slept with everyone's boyfriend, but essentially just barged her way on to the scene; "she thought she could replace Jordan but didn't have the charisma or the originality, she was in the right place at the right time with that one look".  
 
[8] I discuss this topic at greater length in the post 'Of Clowns and Catwomen' (8 December 2016): click here 

 
Bonus 1: An interview with Jordan by Miranda Sawyer for an episode of The Culture Show entitled 'Girls will be Girls', (BBC2, 2014): click here.  
 
Bonus 2: Soo Catwoman singing 'Backstabbers' (Spit Records, 2010); her version of the O'Jays 1972 hit: click here.
 
Bonus 3: Finally, here's an amusing piece of film from the BBC archive showing a bemused Derek Nimmo getting a punk makeover courtesy of Vivienne Westwood, while Jordan and members of the Sex Pistols watch on. The clip is from Just A Nimmo, originally broadcast 24 March, 1977: click here.  
 
 
For a sister post to this one on three more punk graces - Siouxsie Sioux, Poly Styrene, and Helen of Troy - please click here
 
  

18 Jul 2025

That Time I Met Mr Pickle ...

 

I. 
 
One of my favourite scenes in The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (1980) is the closing animated sequence in which McLaren and his motley crew are all aboard the good ship Venus and Johnny Rotten, having been found guilty of collaboration, is forced to walk the plank. 
 
Abandoned by his shipmates, the singer finds himself literally all at sea where he is soon swallowed by a great white shark with the Virgin logo clearly visible on its fin [1].    
 
This scene replayed itself in my mind when, in 1983, the Virgin Group acquired Charisma Records (although it wouldn't be until 1986 that the latter was fully digested by the former; still maintaining at least a measure of independence until then). 
 
So, let us say that I was not a fan of Richard Branson and would laugh at Malcolm's stories about this hippie entrepreneur whom he vehemently disliked and derisively called Mr Pickle (either intentionally or mistakenly confusing the surname with that of an English food brand made by Crosse & Blackwell since 1922) [2].  
 
 
II. 
 
I first met Mr Pickle when, as a Charisma employee, I was sent an invitation by him and the directors of the Virgin Group to attend a party at the Manor, in Oxfordshire, to celebrate the first anniversary of Virgin Atlantic.  
 
The Manor, for those who might not know, was a recording studio housed in a 17th century Grade II listed building that had been bought by Branson in 1971, for £30,000, when he was only twenty-one years of age. It was where Mike Oldfield famousy recorded his precious Tubular Bells (1973) [3].
 
As pretty much everyone from Charisma was going to go, I decided I'd also (somewhat begrudgingly) accept Branson's invitation. And here, for those who may be interested, is my memory of the day based on an entry in the Von Hell Diaries dated 22 June, 1985 ... 
 
 
III. 
 
Unsure what to wear, I decided to go with the pink check suit I bought two years ago and which I've kept hanging in my closet - unworn - ever since. After my friend Andy arrived, we went over to pick Lee Ellen up from her place in Chelsea. Then cabbed it over to Kensal House (i.e., Virgin HQ), from where coaches transported everyone to the Manor. 
      Those of us from the Famous Charisma Label were segregated from the Virgin staff and we were seated as a group at the back of the bus. As Robin had kindly brought along several bottles of wine, however, no one seemed to mind about that and, amusingly, we were soon making twice as much noise as the Virginians on board (to be fair, perhaps that's why we were placed at the back of the bus).  
       The Manor was an impressive country pile (provided you have the capacity to be impressed by an assemblage of bricks) and set in very beautiful grounds that included trees, lakes, swimming pools, tennis courts, etc. Mr Pickle was there to meet and greet us personally as we got off the bus. 
      There were three large tents erected and Branson had laid on copious amounts of food and drink as well as various entertainments that one could sign up for, including horse riding and helicopter flights. But I was more interested in Shelley's friend Claire to be honest. Unfortunately, I ruined my chances with her when I split my lip open swigging champagne straight from the bottle. Note to future self: spitting blood à la Sid Vicious is probably not the most attractive look. 
      Ultimately, it was a dull event - even with the odd pop star in attendance - and the weather didn't help (typical English summer's day - wet and chilly). Glad when the coaches turned up to take us back to London. Mr Pickle dutifully came over to say goodbye and shake everyone's hand for a second time: very much Lord of the Manor. And very much not to be trusted ... [4]    
  
 
 
Not to the manor born ... Andy Greenfield and myself 
The Manor Studio (22 June 1985)
 
 
Notes
 
[1] I have written about this scene in a post published on 4 March 2024: click here
 
[2] Use of this nickname is confirmed by Paul Gorman in The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren (Constable, 2020), p. 355. 
      Gorman's assessment of Branson is one I fully endorse; essentially, a very clever businessman from a privileged background who knew a good opportunity when he saw one and had "cultivated a knack of appropriating aspects of youth culture to his commercial gain" (ibid., p. 356). 
 
[3] The idea of building a luxurious home recording studio was still novel at this time; the Manor was only the third such studio in the UK. Oldfield recorded his debut studio album at the Manor in 1972-73 and it was the first album released on the Virgin Records label (25 May 1973). 
      In April 1995, after the takeover of Virgin Records by EMI, the Manor was closed as a recording studio and the building, listed for sale in 2010 at £5.75 million, is now the country home of some toff or other.   
 
[4] Lee Ellen, Robin, and Shelley all worked at Charisma (in the press office, accounts, and A&R department respectively). The final line is my recalling McLaren's famous advice given to Helen in The Swindle: 'Never trust a hippie'.   
 
 

5 Jul 2025

Suits You, Sir!

 1984 1992 2006
  
I. 
 
The modern suit - regarded in the early days as informal daywear comprising of jacket, trousers and, if a three-piece, a waistcoat  - has been around since at least the late 19th-century. 
 
Indeed, some fashion scholars trace the history of the suit back to the 17th-century and credit Charles II with being instrumental in bringing together the key components. Others think the main man was Regency dandy Beau Brummel, who helped establish Savile Row as the home of bespoke men's tailoring. 
      
Personally, I tend to think that the suit as we know it owes more to the rise of the Victorian business class and the industrial revolution. And what really interests me is how the suit developed in the 20th-century, particularly in the United States in relation to youth-driven popular culture - but that's a story for another day, another post. 
 
Here, I just want to briefly reflect on the memories triggered by the three suits I can be seen wearing in the image above: the first by Jane Khan, one half of Birmingham's best and brightest designers Khan & Bell; the second from the Italian high-end fashion house of Armani; and the third by punk Dame Vivienne Westwood. 
 
 
II.
 
Kahn & Bell was a fashion label and boutique established by Jane Kahn and Patti Bell in Hurst Street, Birmingham, in 1976; much loved by those who simply had to dress up in order to mess up.
 
By the mid-'80s, however, they'd decided to go their separate ways and Khan sans Bell was trading at the Great Gear Market [1] under the brand name of Khaniverous. 
 
And it was at Khaniverous, in April 1984, that I bought my first suit; a loud and colourful check design featuring a teddy boy style jacket with padded square shoulders and black velvet lapels. 
 
It was the kind of theatrical (some might say clownish) punk look that I adored. The suit also reminded me of one worn by Johnny Rotten when fighting his High Court case against Malcolm McLaren in February 1979. 
 
According to my diary from the time, Miss Khan was very friendly and the suit cost £75 (which is about £300 in today's money).  
 
I'm not sure I was ready to take on the world in that suit, but wearing it always made very happy. It was given it's final outing on my wedding day (20 October 1988); after that, the jacket was appropriated into my wife's wardrobe (along with my favourite Zorro style black hat).  
 
 
III. 
 
By the beginning of the 1990s, not only was I approaching 30 and so no longer to be fully trusted, but I was increasingly tired of the tartan-clad Jazz persona invented ten years earlier. And so, whilst still pretty much subscribing to the same anarcho-nihilistic philosophy of punk, it was time for a radical change of image, beginning with the purchase of a heavy linen suit bought from Giorgio Armani.
 
In other words, the Armani suit was not a belated attempt to become a yuppie and I had no desire to turn rebellion into money [2]. Indeed, part of the joke was to look rich whilst being poor; to be dressed as if keen for success whilst all the time celebrating failure.
 
I remember once wearing the suit to Warwick University for a meeting with Nick Land, in an attempt to make the point that being a mad Deleuzian doesn't necessarily oblige one to always dress in oversized black jumpers. 
 
Of course, Land was no more persuaded by my arguments in favour of expensive designer fashion than he was taken by my suggestion that the Ccru should retitle their magazine ***collapse as Stand Up! [3
 
To be fair to Nick, however, I don't think I was ever entirely convinced by my own arguments on this point either and, ultimately, this new Armani look never really worked. Thus, I almost inevitably drifted back to more avant-garde designers, including Vivienne Westwood ... 
 
 
IV.
 
This brings us to the final suit pictured above; an unstructured, linen/cotton design featuring a Prince of Wales check, from 2006. 
 
This suit always reminds me of happy days spent with my beautiful friend Dawn Garland, hanging around a bar in Bloomsbury (see photo below) before attending a series of lectures at Birkbeck by the (hugely over-rated) public intellectual Slavoj Žižek, on topics including Lacanian psychoanalysis and neo-Marxism. 
 
The suit - far more sober than the two drunken suits (one wool, the other silk) that I'd also purchased from Vivienne Westwood during this period - nevertheless always attracted attention when worn (particularly if I was accompanied by Miss Garland, who had her own unique style); some negative, but mostly positive and that's always welcome. 
 
For one doesn't wish to be too flamboyant and standoutish, but neither does one want to fade into the background or be just another face in the crowd; imperceptible, yes - indistinguishable, no thanks. 
 
 
 
 
Notes
 
[1] The Great Gear Market was located at 85 King's Road, London. It was a place known for its punk and alternative fashions and was where many young designers started out and many musicians shopped for outfits. Long closed now, it's perhaps not as well-remembered (nor as well documented) as Kensington Market.
 
[2] As Ian Trowell writes of Heaven 17's decision to wear expensive suits at the start of the 1980s, it was a look designed to confuse those whose anti-conformity simply meant conforming in another direction to another sartorial code or subcultural uniform. 
      See Trowell's article in SIG News #4 (UAL, September 2025); 'Let's All Make a Bomb: Heaven 17 and the Yuppie 1980s'. To read my take on this article, see the post on Torpedo the Ark dated 2 July 2025: click here
 
[3] The Cybernetic Culture Research Unit - styled as the Ccru - was an unorthodox, unsanctioned, experimental (and in-part imaginary) collective growing like some malignant tumor in the philosophy department at the University of Warwick in the mid-1990s, whose posthumous reputation far exceeds its actual accomplishments. Key members included Nick Land, Sadie Plant, and Mark Fisher. 
      The Ccru published a zine entitled ***collapse for which I once provided some artwork, even though I didn't particularly care for (or fully understand) much of the content. My idea was that we were already among the ruins - that pretty much everything that might collapse had collapsed - so it was time to build new little habitats and encourage people to stand up and find a way beyond the ruins: We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen, as Lawrence once put it. 
      I suspect I was seen as a bourgeois reactionary - in an Armani suit - hoping to reterritorialise on old ideas at a time when the Ccru wished to radically accelerate the process of deterritorialisation; although, to again give Land his due, he was always friendly with me and his suggestion about the direction my Ph.D should take (less philosophical and more literary in character) was extremely helpful.
 
 
For a follow up post to this one - on enclothed cognition, etc. - please click here.  
 

4 Jun 2025

Weaving a Short Post on Textile Art (With Reference to the Work of Graham Hollick and Others)

Malcolm McLaren and Johnny Rotten as fabricated by Graham Hollick 
in the series Pop Formation (2025) [1] 
 
 
I. 
 
Textile art includes a range of forms, including weaving, knitting, sewing, and embroidery. It has been practiced for many thousands of years and can be functional, decorative, or, indeed, functional and decorative. 
 
Historically, it's usually been seen as a form of folk art associated primarily with women and thus rather looked down upon by those within the (male-dominated) Academy; more craftwork than artwork; requiring skill, certainly, but lacking genius. 
 
I'm pleased to say that this crass distinction - a blatant form of both sexism and snobbery - has become increasingly untenable, thanks to contemporary artists such as Grayson Perry and Tracey Emin, who unapologetically adopt craft techniques and utilise textiles in their own practices [2].  
 
Today, then, we might say that textile art has undergone something of a renaissance. Not only is it now recognised by galleries and museums as worthy of exhibition space, but, by experimenting with new methods and materials, pioneering individuals have radically extended the boundaries of the medium [3].
 
Whether Graham Hollick might also be thought of as pioneering in the field of textile art is, however, debatable ... 
 
 
II.  
 
Hollick graduated from the Winchester School of Art with a degree in textiles and fashion, in 1988. 
 
He only took up rug hooking relatively recently, however, although has since made a name for himself with a traditional craft that essentially involves pulling loops of yarn or fabric through a stiff woven base with a crochet-type hook [4]
 
Drawing inspiration from various sources - including street art, found graphics, and the world of masks - Hollick had a solo exhibition entitled Pop Formation at The All Good Bookshop in March of this year, featuring portraits of several iconic figures from the world of music, including Bowie, Prince, Madonna, Boy George, and, as seen here, Messrs. McLaren & Rotten.
 
Now, whilst I'm pleased to see these latter two figures included in the exhibition - particularly Malcolm in his Duck Rock phase - I have to confess I'm a little taken aback by these meticulously rug-hooked renditions (roughly A4 in size and priced at £150).   
  
For without wishing to be ungenerous, it seems to me the works lack something, although I'm not sure what that is; perhaps it's the sex, style, and subversion that McLaren always insisted upon as vital to the punk aesthetic. 
 
Having said that, there is something of the make-do and can-do attitude to Hollick's work - as well as an element of almost humorous naïveté - that was crucial to the look (and politics) of punk. And so it just might be the case that Hollick has actually captured what matters most ...          
 
 
Notes
 
[1] For more information on Graham Hollick and his work, visit his website - click here - or see his Instagram page: click here.
 
[2] Grayson Perry is celebrated for his large-scale tapestries which, whilst depicting scenes from contemporary life, draw on traditional techniques in their making. He has also created a series of embroidered works and sewn items with which he actively attempts to reclaim and elevate textile art. 
      Tracey Emin, meanwhile, is equally well-known for her quilts that often incorporate various personal items and form part of a larger self-narrative. 
      Looking back a bit further into art history, we can probably thank William Morris for being one of the first to challenge the distinction between art and craft in the mid-nineteenth century; for teaching us that the choice of paper we hang on our walls is just as important as our choice of pictures. 
 
[3] Such figures include the American artists Sheila Hicks and Nick Cave ... 
      The former is known for her innovative and experimental weavings and textile sculptures that incorporate distinctive colours, natural materials, and personal narratives. She is particularly fond of producing three-dimensional objects that entice viewers to reach out and touch them. Her pieces range in size from the miniscule to the monumental. 
    The latter, meanwhile, is best known for his Soundsuits; brightly-coloured sculptural costumes incorporating found objects and recycled materials, such as plastic buttons, twigs, feathers, and human hair. These outfits are sewn together and can either be worn, exhibited in a gallery, or even played like a musical instrument (thus the name).
      For more on both of the above - as well as eight other exciting textile artists - see Sarah Gottesman's essay 'Pioneering Textile Artists, from Sheila Hicks to Nick Cave', on artsy.net (31 October, 2016): click here
 
[4] Rug hooking is a form of textile art that is believed by some to have originated 200 years ago in the weaving mills of Yorkshire, England (others argue that it developed in the form we know today in North America). 
      Like many similar crafts, it has gained much greater respect in the art world today than in previous times and hookers, as they are known, have been encouraged to explore new materials, design patterns, and techniques. Perhaps the most famous practitioner is Canadian artist Nancy Edell, who introduced rug hooking into her work in the 1980s, using the medium to explore ideas of feminist utopia and the gendering of space.