Sex Pistols / ... And You Will Know By The Trail Of Dead / The Libertines / The Rapture / Mellabostic - London Crystal Palace Sports Centre - 27/7/02
4/5
By: Toby L
Sex Pistols Set-List: 'Intro: Tape - God Save The Queen (Leftfield Remix)',
'Silver Machine', 'Holidays In The Sun', 'I Wanna Be Me', 'No Feelings', 'Substitute', 'Seventeen', 'Pretty Vacant', 'Don't Give Me No Lip, Child', 'Did U No Wrong', 'New York', 'Submission', 'No Fun', 'Satellite', 'I'm Not Your (Stepping Stone)', 'Bodies', 'Belsen Was A Gas', 'Through My Eyes', 'Liar', 'Problems', 'EMI', Encore # 1, 'My Way', 'Anarchy in the UK',
Encore #2, 'God Save the Queen'.
With mohawks rising towards the skies, discarded plastic bottles of cheap cider scattered in the streets and the same sort of aggressive atmosphere one could expect at a football game between Man Utd and Man City, today's concert marks the somewhat expected return of the Sex Pistols to the live-arena, a month or two behind the 25th anniversary of their classic 'God Save The Queen' single, and, oh yeah, the Queen's Jubilee.
But, really, how necessary is today's performance? What relevance can a seminal punk-band of the past really hold in store for the present and future? At first, you'd be forgiven for suggesting not a lot, but with a supporting-bill of today's hottest, fresh talent and nigh-on 20,000 late-70s fanatics all rejoicing within the re-emergence of El 'Rotten and co., seemingly, the Sex Pistols are needed as much today as a cure to the presently suspect political on-goings around the world.
Kicking off with the largely R'n'B and hip-hop flavoured offerings of Mellabostic, who perform again prior to tonight's main event, hostility is immediately hanging in the air. A snarling front-row of Pistols-obsessives stares on in the utmost of disgust, some choosing to heckle and pelt various objects at the onstage victims. Ouch.
Worryingly, at first, this is the same sort of entrance rewarded to New York's fast-rising dark-pop conjurors, The Rapture, who allow none of the icy reception to dampen their bass-heavy indie/disco-club anthems, their chilling vocals transcending to the clouds above, and their urban flair emitting straight to the back of the implausibly large outdoor arena. By the time they jetset into the fiery groove of 'House Of Jealous Lovers', the band's justification for being present has been effortlessly gained - and some of the earlier hesitance is instead swapped for a rousing clamour of applause by the set's end.
Not such an effect follows for East London's ever-frothy four-piece, The Libertines, who sway on to the stage and proceed to play the first set of the day which forms dangerous circle-pits in various areas of the audience, the positive response triggering frontmen Peter and Carl to toss their elaborate, red military-jackets into the abyss of people in front. Particularly at ease by the midpoint of the show, it's the staggering entrance into such numbers as the riffs-heavy 'Boys In The Band' and melodic-daze of 'Time For Heroes' that showcases the group's cunning ability to absorb all herein into their performance. With Pete even remaining onstage to try and operate a faulty tape-machine so its contents would play into a microphone after his compadres have left, a momentarily bewildered crowd thunders its appreciation into a fitting roar.
But, all this thus far compared to ... And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead is, by rights, completely incomparable. From the outset, things are going to get messy. Choosing to avoid their latter-day and more melodic compositions, the band instead storms into a back-catalogue of churning feedback, noise and gruelling angst, drummer and co-vocalist Jason Reece using this special day to try and upstage his own heroes who are up next. 'Come on, motherf**kers,' he incites dangerously, 'throw shit at me!' A tyrant of bottles, cans and various paraphernalia hit his direction, and he proceeds to, ahem, fornicate in his trousers whilst wobbling on top of a speaker-stack. Naturally, as soon as Conrad Keely gets back to the mic, he seems insistent on explaining the marvellous showmanship, declaring brightly, 'Jesus, Jason - we told you to lay off the Red Bull, man!'
So, with further thrashing - and a set-highlight within the form of the aptly-titled 'Days Of Being Wild' - it closes in the classic Trail Of Dead way: instruments smashed, emotions ablaze, and security trying to prevent the band-members from committing any further damage... Yet, despite this, one of the more amusing sights of the day is that of Reece being greeted backstage immediately after their set by a paramedic's member of staff - who states it to be the finest performance he's ever seen.
Anyone following such a bold achievement would usually have their work cut out, but as the light of day dims, the soaring temperatures drop and the curtain at the back of the stage falls, such a resulting and explosive roar of excitement from the crowd allows you to realise just who everyone today is truly here for. And the Sex Pistols know it, too.
Opening with the first of what seems like several thousand covers, John Lydon, Steve Jones, Glen Matlock and Paul Cook blast into Hawkwind's 'Silver Machine' before allowing it to metamorphosise into a thrillingly frantic 'Holidays In The Sun' - complete with a stage-invasion from a person that soon disappears off the platform via two specifically tough and heavy security-members. Punk-rock, eh?
Yet, despite the distractions, our leader of the day - a self-confessed flabby Johnny Rotten, who receives a chorus of 'You Fat Bastard' from the spectators - is in full-on, effervescent and provocative mood. In fact, he even joshes with the ridiculous entry-fee incurred upon all attendees, exclaiming after a sweaty '(I'm Not Your) Stepping Stone', 'Thank you - and that's another £32.50 please,' soon insulting his own followers during a lull in activity, the man taunting, 'You've gone quiet... Showing your f**king age, are you?' Indeed, the only time he's serious is when he dedicates a version of The Who's 'Substitute' to the recently tragic ex-bassist of the band, John Entwhistle, Rotten adding, 'He's in a better place than us.'
Musically, even the kitchen sink is thrown in. So, whilst Johnny throws in lines from The Kinks' 'All Day & All Of The Night' during a ripping 'Submission', highlights particularly lock within fleshy run-throughs of 'EMI' and the encore-openers such as Sid Vicious' 'My Way' and a sleazy 'Anarchy In The UK'. A further breather and break for the group allows the four-piece's remaining energy to be lost within a life-affirming 'God Save The Queen' - complete with balloons. It's a surreal end to a triumphant performance, Lydon finalising with almost a tear in his eye, 'Good night - I f**kin' love you.' But, at the worry of sounding sentimental and soft, he hardens up again. 'And I hate you at the same time... If the Sex Pistols can be reunited, then we can sort this shit country out.'
And that's the finish, all guns blazing. Sure, lacking the original ruff 'n' ready sparkle which made them so dangerous in the first place, the Pistols are now in that league of artists that even they despised the look of when they started - and that's as a great, if irreverent, British institution.
Sex Pistols Photo-Credit - Andrew Future
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