Showing posts with label sex pistols. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sex pistols. Show all posts

13 Jul 2022

Punk Moth (Or How the Cambridge Rapist Motif Haunts the Natural World)

Fig. 1: Pretty little moth in my front garden / Fig. 2: A colour enhanced detail from the wing
Fig. 3: Jamie Reid God Save the Cambridge Rapist (poster design for The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle, 1980)


There are, apparently, around 2,500 species of moth in the UK and I'm no lepidopterist, so don't expect me to identify the very pretty little moth in the photo above which seems to like living in (or on) my front garden privet. 
 
Perhaps its most striking feature, to me at least, is the marking on the wing which reminds me of the Cambridge Rapist [1] mask that so fascinated Malcolm McLaren and which he and Vivienne Westwood incorporated as an image on shirt designs sold at 430 Kings Road [2]; an image which Jamie Reid later used in one of his God Save ... series of posters produced for The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (dir. Julien Temple, 1980) [3]
 
Does this serve to illustrate Oscar Wilde's anti-mimetic contention that life imitates art? [4] Or does it prove that even an insect can be a sex pistol? 
 
 
Notes

[1] Peter Samuel Cook - known in the press as the Cambridge Rapist - attacked several women in their homes between October 1974 and April 1975. He quickly entered the public imagination due to the distinctive leather mask with the word rapist painted in white letters across the forehead that he liked to wear whilst carrying out his crimes. 
      The 46-year old delivery driver was arrested following one of Britain's largest police manhunts. He was convicted at his trial in 1976 of six counts of rape, as well as assault and gross indecency. Cook was given two life sentences with the recommendation made that he never be released. He died, in jail, in January 2004 (aed 75).   
 
[2] A long-sleeved muslin shirt by McLaren and Westwood with the Cambridge Rapist motif is held in the collection of the Victoria and Albert Museum: click here.  
 
[3] A version of this work (produced in 1978) by Jamie Reid can also be found at the V&A: click here.
 
[4] See Wilde's essay 'The Decay of Lying', Intentions (1891). Note that an earlier version of the essay was published in the literary magazine The Nineteenth Century, in January 1889. 
 
For a related post on cultural entomology entitled 'Insectopunk', click here.    


31 May 2022

Reflections on Another Jubilee (There's Still No Future in England's Dreaming)

Jamie Reid: sleeve artwork for 'God Save the Queen' 
by the Sex Pistols (Virgin Records, 1977) 
 
 
I.
 
Celebrations to mark the Queen's Platinum Jubilee are set to take place over a special four-day bank holiday weekend from Thursday 2 to Sunday 5 June 2022. 
 
Seeing the Union Jack bunting and hearing all the Gawd bless 'er majesty bullshit reminds me very much of the Silver Jubilee back in the fateful summer of 1977 - the summer of hate as it is sometimes known; i.e., the summer of punk ...
 

II.

Although not old enough to have partied with the Sex Pistols on their notorious jubilee boat trip along the Thames, I was old enough in 1977 to have woken up and realised what side of the bed I was lying on - and it wasn't the side with the red, white and blue sheets.
 
As far as I recall, I was pretty much the only Essex schoolchild who refused to attend (or have anything to do with) the street parties being held on my estate that June. 
 
And my sense of alienation - combined with a long hatred for all the pomp and circumstance surrounding the royal family - meant that I now aligned myself with the Sex Pistols (what this meant in practice was keeping press cuttings about the band, taping 'Pretty Vacant' off the radio [1], and doing my best to perfect a Rotten persona). 
 
The Sex Pistols were the flowers in the dustbin and they were the poison in the human machine, but it was precisely their uncompromising nihilism that made them so attractive; that, and the way they looked [2]

 
III. 
 
Finally, while we're on the subject of the Sex Pistols ...
 
Tonight sees the start of Danny Boyle's six-part TV series Pistol - a Disneyfied punk pantomime loosely based on Steve Jones's memoir, in which a kamikaze gang of foul-mouthed yobs is reimagined by a cast of impossibly middle-class actors [3].
 
Were he still with us, I'm sure Malcolm would regard this as a prime example of what he termed karaoke culture [4] - i.e., one lacking in authentic sex, style or subversion.  
 
So, rather than sit through Danny Boyle's load of old bollocks, why not click here to watch a new version of the video for 'God Save the Queen' - one which combines footage shot by Julien Temple at the Marquee in May 1977, with footage of the Thames river boat party (a fun day out which resulted in eleven arrests, including Malcolm's). 
 
 
Notes

[1] I couldn't record 'God Save the Queen', of course, as it was banned from the airwaves. Famously, it was also prevented from getting to number one in the official UK singles chart, although it was the highest selling single during the jubilee week.  

[2] I loved the songs too, but the music was always secondary to the politics, the clothes, and the artwork - which is why I soon came to appreciate that Malcolm was the fabulous architect of chaos and Rotten just another juvenile Bill Grundy. Indeed, he's now something of an admirer of the Queen it appears.
 
[3] For earlier thoughts on Danny Boyle's Pistol click here and here

[4] Readers who are interested in this can watch McLaren's TED Talk of October 2009 on authentic creativity versus karaoke culture: click here


26 Apr 2022

The Last of the Groupies: In Memory of Nancy Spungen

Nancy Spungen (1958-1978)
 
What d'you get when you cross a mentally ill loner with 
a society that abandons her and treats her like trash? 
You get what you fucking deserve!

I. 
 
It might be argued that Nancy Spungen was the last of the great American groupies [1]
 
For whilst there were - and probably still are - many young girls happy to starfuck their way to notoriety post-Nancy, I can't think of any by name and in the #MeToo era even the term groupie now seems dated and problematic.
 
Similarly, whilst the rock 'n' roll circus continued after the Sex Pistols imploded in 1978 - the year of Miss Spungen's death - it has never really recovered from the blow dealt it by punk and I'm pretty sure that when cultural historians look back a hundred years from now, rock's golden age will be identified as lasting from the mid-1950s until the end of the '70s (i.e., from Elvis to Sid Vicious). 
 
 
II. 
 
It would be wrong to pretend that Nancy was simply a nice Jewish girl at heart. Because, whilst she was indeed Jewish and raised in a respectable middle-class home, she wasn't composed of sugar and spice, so much as madness and spite and all things vice [2]
 
An emotionally disturbed infant and young child, prone to screaming fits and violent behaviour, Nancy was already prescribed barbiturates at just a few months of age in an attempt to pacify her [3]. Finally, at fifteen, having attempted suicide the year before, she was diagnosed with schizophrenia.
 
An obviously bright girl, Nancy excelled at elementary school, but made few friends. At age eleven, however, she was expelled due to repeated absenteeism. She had also by this age threatened to kill her babysitter with a pair of scissors and attacked her shrink after being accused of simply wanting attention and this also caused the school authorities some concern.  
 
Nevertheless, Nancy graduated from high school in April 1974 and was accepted into the University of Colorado. Unfortunately, after being twice arrested - firstly for purchasing marijuana from an undercover police officer and then for being discovered in possession of stolen property - her student life was cut short. Indeed, it was only on condition that she leave the state of Colorado and agree to parental supervision that Nancy avoided jail. 
 
At seventeen, Nancy left home and moved to New York City. Here she supported herself by whatever means she could; a little bit of freelance music journalism, some temporary work at a clothes store, stripping, and prostitution. She also decided she wanted to become a groupie and began to follow various rock bands, including Aerosmith, The New York Dolls, and the Ramones [4].
 
In 1977, Nancy flew to London with The Heartbreakers and decided she wanted to get herself a Sex Pistol. Initialy she had set her sights on Rotten, but when he showed no interest, she turned her attention to Sid. And so began a fateful eighteen-month relationship that came to a bloody end at the Chelsea Hotel in October 1978; one I have written of elsewhere on Torpedo the Ark: click here.   
 
Nancy was buried in the King David Memorial Park in Bensalem Township, Pennsylvania. Her mother, Deborah, published a memoir in 1983 with a title taken from a poem by Vicious: I Don't Want to Live This Life [5]
 
Whilst often still demonised by those who should know better (and, in many cases, didn't know her), Nancy Spungen has cemented her place within popular culture and I do think, over forty years since her death (aged just twenty), we might retrospectively view her with a little more kindness.  
         
 
Notes
 
[1] For an earlier post on groupies - those muses with dirty faces - click here.
 
[2] Having said that, I don't think Nancy deserved the epiphet Nauseating placed before her name, no matter how unpleasant she may have seemed. For whilst even his fellow band members may have found her behaviour objectionable, there's no doubting that Sid was besotted with Nancy, describing her as an intelligent and humorous woman who possessed not only beautiful eyes, but the most beautiful wet pussy in the world - and a fab taste in clothes. 
      Ultimately, perhaps being nauseating is preferable to being nice anyway; certainly when one recalls that the latter derives from the Latin nescius, meaning unknowing, ignorant, foolish - terms which cannot be applied to the streetwise Miss Spungen. 
 
[3] Although no brain damage was recorded at the time of her birth, one wonders if the fact Nancy had emerged into the world bright blue due to oxygen deprivation played a part in her later mental health problems; after all, no one likes to be strangled by their own umbilical cord (or carry an unconscious memory of such). 
 
[4] When I say follow, I of course mean rather more than this; Nancy supplied numerous rock stars with drugs and sexual favours. Before meeting Sid, she had slept with many of those on the New York scene at that time; David Johansen, Johnny Thunders, Syl Sylvain, Jerry Nolan, Richard Hell, Iggy Pop ... et al
 
[5] Those who are interested can listen to Deborah Spungen talk about her daughter, her book, her memories of Sid Vicious, etc. in a 42-minute radio interview (23 Nov 1983): available on YouTube: click here.  
 
 

8 Feb 2022

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 ...     


6 Feb 2022

The Rich Can Buy Soap: Why I Find Shepard Fairey's Hope Poster Problematic

Shepard Fairey in front of his portrait of Barack Obama before its installation 
at the National Portrait Gallery in Washington D.C. in 2009
Photograph: Jewel Samad/AFP/Getty Images
 
 
I. 
 
Someone has emailed:
 
'I was intrigued - and, if I'm honest, slightly irritated - by the fact that after praising Shepard Fairey's Hope poster as a work of art and defending his right to have transformed the original photo by Mannie Garcia on the grounds of fair use, you couldn't resist adding a line in a footnote to the effect that, actually, you didn't much care for the piece after all; branding it as an all-too-blatant example of political propaganda. Would you care to elaborate on this remark?' [1]

Well, although I hadn't planned on saying anything further about Fairey's work, I've decided to take this opportunity to do so, since I was asked in a such a sincere spirit of both intrigue and irritation ...
 
 
II. 
 
Just to be clear from the outset: I'm not suggesting that art should (or could) be pure in some manner or untainted by politics. And lots of great works are explicitly political; Picasso's Guernica (1937) would be an obvious example of such.
 
But I do feel a little uncomfortable when an artist produces a work that is endorsed by a presidential campaign team and which is, in effect, a piece of political advertising that doesn't only promote Barack Obama's candidacy, but attempts to fob us off with the untenable - and treacherous - ideal of hope.
 
One is reminded of something that D. H. Lawrence wrote about advertisements; no matter how clever, how beautiful, or how seductive their use of language and imagery, one can never quite forget they disguise a sharp hook with which to catch the consumer [2]
 
I'm not denying, therefore, that Fairey's Obama portrait is a genuine work of art that brings forth a number of powerful reactions, but I don't like feeling that I'm having my reactions pre-determined and manipulated - particularly when Fairey is doing so in a manner that suggests he is attempting to spiritualise politics and sell us not only his version of the American Dream, but inspire mankind with a promise of redemption.  
 
My main problem is not with the instantly iconic image of Barack Obama, heavily stylised by Fairey and displaying many features that belong to his distinctive aesthetic, it's with the slogan HOPE plastered across the bottom in capital letters [3]
 
As a pessimistic philosopher, I obviously have problems with this sentimental and morally optimistic ideal of hope. I never expect (nor particularly desire) positive outcomes; I certainly don't pray for such. 
 
Like Schopenhauer, I regard hope as a pernicious delusion or a folly of the heart that undermines the individual's appreciation of probability; like Nietzsche, I suspect the gods enjoy the spectacle of human suffering and so provide hope as a way of prolonging such (it is arguably, therefore, the most evil of all evils). 

I'm glad to see that, by 2015, Shepard Fairey was expressing his disappointment with President Obama and his administration, having lost a good deal of hope as evidence of increased military drone use and domestic surveillance came to light [4].
 
But one wonders just what Fairey - a self-confessed sex pistol - was thinking of back in 2008 by pledging his support of Obama so openly and promoting a theological virtue; had he forgotten the great slogan of punk: No Future ...? [5] 
 
 
Notes
 
[1] The writer is referring to a post of 4 Feb 2022 entitled 'Notes on Fair Use With Reference to the Case of Shepard Fairey and the Obama Hope Poster' - click here.
 
[2] D. H. Lawrence, 'Pornography and Obscenity', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 238. I comment further on the poetry and politics of modern advertising with reference to this essay by Lawrence (as well as Roland Barthes's take on the subject in Mythologies) in a post that can be accessed by clicking here

[3] Originally, the poster featured the word progress, but the Obama campaign team expressed concerns about the connotations of this idea and advised that the key terms that they were promoting were hope and change.  

[4] See the interview with Fairey by Matt Patches in Esquire (May 28, 2015): click here
 
[5] No Future was the original title of 'God Save the Queen', by the Sex Pistols, and the phrase is repeated throughout the song. One might also remind Fairey of something that Sartre once said: 'Voting is not a political act. It's an act of resignation.' Thus one should never vote for anyone or anything, only against.   


27 Oct 2021

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
 
 

31 Jul 2021

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


26 Jul 2021

On Those Who Have Been Refused Entry Into the Land of the Free ...

Photo by John Tiberi of the Sex Pistols 
(Steve Jones / Johnny Rotten / Sid Vicious / Paul Cook) 
on the eve of their first American tour (January 1978)
 
 
I. 
 
As might be imagined, there exists a fairly extensive list of notable persons who have been deported from the United States for one reason or another, often on the grounds that they are aliens who are hostile to the American way of life defined in terms of motherhood and apple pie [1].  
 
It's a list that includes, for example, the English comic actor and director Charlie Chaplin and the Russian political activist and writer Emma Goldman; the latter described by J. Edgar Hoover shortly before her removal in 1919, as one of the most dangerous women alive.

 
II. 
 
But it's not this list or the figures upon it which interests me here: I am, rather, concerned with the list of notable people who have been refused entry into the Land of the Free ...
 
This a list that includes Kurt Blome, the high-ranking Nazi scientist who performed illicit medical experiments on concentration camp prisoners, Gerry Adams, the Sinn Fein President and IRA sympathiser, and, rather more surprisingly, footballer Diego Maradona, domestic goddess Nigella Lawson, and singer-songwriter Lily Allen [2].    

I think my favourite entry on the list, however, is Sebastian Horsley, who, after arriving at Newwark Airport in March 2008, was denied entry into the United States on the grounds of moral turpitude
 
After eight hours of questioning - and despite the fact that he had removed his nail polish as a concession to American sensibilities - Horsley was placed on a plane and sent back to London; his planned book tour and six-month stay in the US over before it had even begun [3]
 
In failing to enter and tour America, Horsley actually goes one better than his heroes the Sex Pistols, who, seen above in passport photos taken at the time, were initially denied visas by the US Embassy in London on the eve of their first American tour (members of the band having committed a number of criminal misdemeanours).   
 
Although obliged to cancel several shows, the band were, of course, eventually allowed in to the States, thanks to the efforts of their American record company, Warner Bros., and the lawyers acting on their behalf. Unfortunately, as everyone knows, things did not go well - which is not to say they didn't go as Malcolm hoped; the plan being not to sell tickets or records, but incite mayhem and disillusion [4]
 
 
Notes
 
[1] It might be noted that only those designated as aliens are subject to removal from the United States. In other words, a U.S. citizen or a U.S. national cannot be removed from the United States under any circumstances.  

[2] Maradona had numerous criminal convictions in Argentina, Italy, and elsewhere; Nigella was barred from boarding a flight leaving London for LA in 2014, having recently confessed to a cocaine habit; Lily Allen was refused a U.S. visa for having assaulted a photographer in 2007 and for singing in a mockney accent. 
 
[3] Torpedophiles will be aware that I have already written a post on the idea of moral turpitude with reference to the case of Sebastian Horsley: click here.   

[4] At the Winterland Ballroom, San Francisco, on the 14th of January, 1978, the Sex Pistols self-imploded before the eyes of the world and exposed rock music as a dying beast that needed putting out of its misery. To watch the show in full, click here


31 Mar 2021

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.
 

30 Mar 2021

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


26 Feb 2021

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
 
 

20 Feb 2021

Apple Maggots


Apple with maggot linocut by linocutboy
 
 
I. 
 
In a short piece of fragmentary writing, D. H. Lawrence laughably declares himself to be a good Catholic at heart; one who believes in an all-overshadowing God, recognises the divinity of Jesus, and accepts the authority of the Church, including "the power of the priest to grant absolution" [1].
 
On the religious fundamentals, says Lawrence, there is no real battle between himself and Christianity and no major breach between himself and the Church of Rome. 
 
Only, of course, there is: for whilst acknowledging the divinity of Christ, Lawrence also insists that Jesus is not, however, the only Son of God; that there are in fact many saviours and to teach otherwise is disastrous and hateful. 
 
Now, I'm no theologian, but I'm pretty sure that the idea of Christ as the one and only true path to God is crucial to Christianity's brand identity and its exclusivity. And that to deny this is heresy, is it not? Lawrence would immediately - and rightly by the terms and conditions of membership - be excommunicated from the faith were he in fact a Catholic (which he wasn't).                
 
 
II. 
 
Ultimately, queer and quirky individuals such as Lawrence require their independence above all else; they are isolated outsiders who instinctively shun all attachments, reject all dogma, and question all authority - even their own: Never trust the artist. Trust the tale [2].
 
Nietzsche calls such individuals free spirits and rightly points out how they are highly unsuitable as members of any kind of political party or faith-based organisation [3]. For just as they eat their way in to the body of such, so too do they quickly (and destructively) consume their way through it and out the other side. They can't help it. It's their nature - they're like apple maggots. 
 
Now, without claiming to be a free spirit in the mould of Nietzsche and Lawrence, I've often wondered why it is that I could never quite fit in or join in with others; could never belong to a group or society or movement, with the exception of punk, which, of course, was always a loose association of odd-bods and weirdos who came together on the basis of hating everyone else even more than they despised one another and which had no rules and only one imperative - do it yourself: Don't be told what you want / Don't be told what you need [4].    
 

Notes

[1] D. H. Lawrence, 'There is no real battle ...', in Reflections on the Death of a Porcupine and Other Essays, ed. Michael Herbert, (Cambridge University Press, 1988), Appendix I: Fragmentary writings, p. 385. 

[2] D. H. Lawrence, Studies in Classic American Literature, ed. Ezra Greenspan, Lindeth Vasey and John Worthen, (Cambridge University Press, 2003), Final Version (1923), 'The Spirit of Place', p. 14.  

[3] See Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human, trans. R. J. Hollingdale, (Cambridge University Press, 1993), Vol. I., Pt. 9. §579.  

[4] Sex Pistols, 'God Save the Queen', (Virgin Records, 1977). 
 
 
This post is dedicated to the the free-spirited feminist Afiya S. Zia.