The influential band John Lydon called “degenerates”
In the 1960s, a countercultural revolution led by The Beatles and all in their wake brought colour and optimism to a post-war climate. The West was still fraught with political unrest, but for the first time, pop music was at the forefront of societal resistance as the hippies encouraged progressive values. When John Lydon and his formative band, Sex Pistols, entered the scene in the mid-’70s, a new countercultural revolution manifested.
Elvis Presley’s gyrating hips established an air of social defiance that grew throughout the 1960s as iconic rock artists began to frequent the headlines as a clear and present danger to young, malleable minds. In this sense, the punk wave can be considered a continuation of the earlier revolution. However, a principal difference was that punk principles didn’t necessarily have a clear, virtuous goal, as the Sex Pistols’ famous line, “Don’t know what I want but I know how to get it,” conveys.
Famously, George Harrison dismissed the UK punk wave as a transient “fad”. Likewise, Keith Richards felt that the punk wave was somewhat engineered, especially when it came to Sex Pistols, whom Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood dressed in clothes ripped carefully under factory conditions. As far as Richards was concerned, punk was nothing new. “Yeah, there was a certain spirit there,” he reflected in a 1981 interview with Rolling Stone. “But I don’t think there was anything new musically, or even from the PR point of view, image-wise. There was too much image, and none of the bands were given enough chance to put their music together, if they had any.”
Although John Lydon was a critical proponent of the punk wave, he would likely agree with Richards. Besides all the chokers, leather jackets and shrewd marketing, the spirit of punk had existed for some time. “It seemed to be the least important thing. It was more important if you puked over somebody, you know? But that’s a legacy from us also,” Richards continued to point out. “After all, we’re still the only rock ‘n’ roll band arrested for peeing on a wall.”
When Lydon rose to prominence with Sex Pistols, it was apparent where their allegiances lay. Despite Matlock’s admission of Beatlemania from the off, Lydon made it clear that such bands were too popular for a trendy band like Sex Pistols to associate with. Instead, the group lauded proto-punk outfits of the late 1960s and early ‘70s as their most vital influences.
Speaking to Spin in 2015, Lydon dismissed the idea that punk was a flash in the pan: it wasn’t born with Ramones or Sex Pistols and nor did it die by the end of the 1970s. “If you really look at punk and how it’s developed, Public Image is its finest example,” he said, referring to his current band. “Creativity through progress. It’s never going to be for me something stuck in a bubble in a time warp and forever imitating itself. And I thought there’d be an audience there that would understand that and move with me.”
Accordingly, Lydon has never denied that the essence of punk lived in bands established long before Ramones and Sex Pistols, such as The Stooges and New York Dolls. As he continues to develop his own musical identity with PiL, Lydon frequently returns to some of his favourite artists from the early ‘70s for inspiration. He described ‘The One’ from 2015’s What the World Needs Now… as particularly reminiscent of the glam-rock era, “which [he] loved very much”.
Continuing, Lydon identified Marc Bolan’s T. Rex as a prominent milestone on the road to punk. From Bolan, he could draw a clear trajectory through New York Dolls to the sound of the Sex Pistols. “Marc Bolan’s T. Rex,” he said, “The New York Dolls were a degenerate version of that, and they came somewhat later. When I take [T. Rex] out of my record collection and play them, they just remind me of those times and getting over my shyness.”
Through imitating his heroes, Lydon had a persona behind which to hide his insecurities. Just as the Dolls dressed in drag to stir controversy and heighten intrigue, Lydon found artistic confidence in sneering anarchy under the Johnny Rotten banner. “It’s one of my ailments in life; through music, I learned to be as open as I am,” he added. “I suppose I’d be something of a quiet mouse without music. And so that’s a complete homage.”
