John Lydon’s choice of name for his post-Sex Pistols outfit was a typically blunt swipe at both the cynical media-manipulation tactics of Pistols manager Malcolm McLaren, and the mainstream media’s puerile attempts at constructing the political agenda. Two days before tonight’s PiL gig – the band’s first journey here in almost 25 years – Lydon again found himself at the centre of public controversy, contrived, exploited and feasted upon by the mainstream media. Compared to the infamous Bill Grundy interview of 1976, this was almost pissweak; if ever there was a fable of the decline in relevance of the media, this was it.
Such matters are, at any rate, water off a duck’s back for the irrepressibly cantankerous and contrarian Lydon. Clad in a plaid jacket mid-way on the fashion spectrum between a juvenile delinquent’s flannelette shirt and an old man’s dressing gown, Lydon struts onto the stage, ready for musical combat. With his middle-aged spread and beady eyes, Lydon could have been any old geezer at the local pub wandering in for a pint and a game of darts. There’s no Keith Levine, Martin Atkins or Jah Wobble behind him – some wounds, it can be reasonably assumed, will be taken to the grave and beyond – yet the latest incarnation of PiL is as tight as ever. Lydon doesn’t so much sing as engage in a monotonic rant, throwing his head back periodically and causing his jowls to wobble in concert with the music.
The set is mainly old, a bit new. The crowd is in raptures for the older material – Four Enclosed Walls, Albatross, Death Disco (during which Lydon is seen to shed a tear in memory of his mother, and possibly his step-daughter Ari Up, who died last year). Flowers Of Romance offers arguably the highlight of the main set, its iconoclastic blend of krautrock and post-punk providing the definitive PiL sound. PiL’s latest album, This Is PiL, is PiL 30 years on; tracks like Deeper Water and Reggie Song are good songs, both in the tradition of, and transcending the PiL of yore.
The main set concludes with a potent quinella: This Is Not A Love Song takes us back to the dance floors of 1981, and Public Image resonates as a call to arms in a manner not even Lydon could have envisaged all those years ago. The encore comprises three songs: the expansive Out Of The Woods, Rise (during which our vocal chords are further ravaged as we purport to emulate Lydon’s abrasive style) and Open Up. John Lydon’s a bitter old geezer, but he’s still better than anyone else around.
BY PATRICK EMERY
Photo credit: Cassandra Kiely
LOVED: This Is Not A Love Song.
HATED: punters who seem to think a (post)punk gig justifies idiotic crowd behaviour.
DRANK: Boag’s Draught, at prices double that on offer at the Croxton Park Hotel later in the evening.
