Sex pistols covered in ideological fuzziness and smelling a little, well, “rotten” (groan). What happened?
Firstly, now it’s a crime to throw bottles at a Sex Pistols concert. If you are unruly at a show, Jonny Rotten might “throw you out FUCKER!” If you want them to play, “BEHAVE!” You don’t throw bottles at them, you throw them at “shit bands,” “If you’re not gonna’ POLICE yourselves, then FUCK OFF!
Secondly, Rotten looks like a cross between Kid from Kid ‘n’ Play, a refrigerator (thick, yes, but not in the Gracyk-ian sense), and a package of fruit flavored Life Savers®. This band misses McLaren and Westwood. The other band members are decked out in leather jackets (probably taken out of the safe-lock tupperware they have been stored in since 1977).
Thirdly, they’re basically playing a medley of their greatest hits…FROM 1976! This is at a concert in 1996. No new material at all.
In short, they’ve become museum pieces. Commodified representations of themselves 30 years ago – drained of all of their ideological juices – providing the satisfaction of a voyeuristic peek at punk ideology – pickled and mounted, without the threat of bursting from its containment. O well, I guess the same thing happened to Pierre Boulez. You can’t blame them you know, who wants to be in a retirement home having applesauce flung at them by a bunch of tossers who haven’t figured out that the 70’s were a show in the first place. Ah, diddums.