As you will no doubt have noticed, Fleet Street went absolutely bananas over the Sex Pistols last Thursday.

Ignition point for the biggest press ballyhoo over a rock band since the Stones relieved themselves against a garage wall almost a decade ago was the Sex Pistols’ appearance on London Weekend’s Today programme, a teatime magazine-format show dealing principally in local news and personalities.

The furore began when the group delivered a series of four-letter words after being baited by interviewer Bill Grundy, man of fifty-two summers, six offspring and no little wit.

Needless to say the TV station’s switchboard was jammed with hysterical calls from the moment John Rotten uttered his first muted rudenie.

Next morning’s Daily Mirror carried a blow-by-blow account of the incident on its front page, including a literal transcript of the offending dialogue which left only the central ’uck’s in the most frequently used adjective missing, MM-style. An amusing irony here is that the same issue also carried a feature on the group on page 9, part of a series on the outrageous new pop kings. Meanwhile The Sun saved the story for its notorious page three, its account of the event and mixed reactions as to who was responsible lying alongside a deliciously exploitative titpic of a doctor’s daughter. The Pistols made the front page of the Daily Express too — under a delicious Fury at filthy TV chat headline. Grundy “disgusted” was pictured alongside a self-justifying I will not admit to goading them ... I merely followed the theme of outrage.

Later in the day Bill would make the covers of both The Evening Standard (The Foul-mouthed Yobs) and Evening News (Why I did it). It was revealed that Grundy would not be getting the elbow for his part in the fiasco, as many outraged viewers had demanded he do. The Standard followed up their leader with a Pistols feature on page 3, pop editor James Johnson nutshelling the entire punk phenomenon and underlining his intimate acquaintance with the scene by referring to the Pistols’ best known fan as Sid the Vicious.

The News cover featured a reprinted inset by their pop specialist John Blake, suggesting that Blake had discovered and championed the Pistols an entire three weeks previously. Half the News editorial (Not in front of the children) was devoted to explaining that swearing was alright so long as it wasn’t done with nippers around. This same attitude was taken by the 47-year-old lorry driver who kicked in his colour TV set while the Pistols were on.

Driver James Holmes confessed to being able to swear as well as anyone but didn’t want this sort of muck coming into my home at tea-time.

If Thursday’s national papers were sensational, Friday’s were hysterical. The news that Bill Grundy had been suspended for two weeks ensured further widespread front page coverage. The Sun asked whether the Pistols were drunk when they appeared on the programme. The Express, under the headline Punk? Call It Filthy Lucre, wrote an incredibly biased story accusing EMI of cashing in on smut. And the Daily Mail, after carrying a news story on the front page, ran a story on page six by their TV columnist Shaun Usher lambasting the entire rock and roll industry as mercenary manipulators. He talked about neatly suited expense-account executives who are happy to rot the fabric of society for the sake of the company balance sheet.

Everything in fact that Orpington man would thrill to on the 8.32am up to London Bridge. Nowhere was there any reference to the sensation-seeking journalists of Fleet Street being made to turn out the most appalling load of drivel in order to satisfy the circulation lusts of their editors and proprietors by pandering to the gullibility and prejudices of their readers.

Naturally the music biz buzzed with stories — EMI had given the Pistols back their contract, A&R man Nick Mobbs (who signed them) was also getting the old heave-ho.

In fact, neither rumour was true.

So what does it all add up to? Lotsa good anti-publicity for the Pistols and their just-started national tour — an extra kick in the pants for the Anarchy in the UK ’45 — which is reportedly not selling as well as anticipated (possibly because EMI underestimated demand and only pressed 5,000—which, being sold out, left them empty-handed) and something to put on your front page in the absence of any grisly murders, accounts of cannibalism or vivisection.

Also it gets Bill Grundy Sounds Nerd Of The Week award for finding the easiest way out of a sticky situation and transferring all the blame to the Pistols.

What nobody bothered to ask was what harmful effects—if indeed there are any—a few taboo words would have on the nation’s kiddiewinks. Are they worse for you than a pair of tits, for example? Will they stunt growth? Create perverts by the hundred? Encourage kindergarten vice rings?

Highly improbable effects, each and every one, the truth of the matter being that kids are probably done a heap more harm than good by being protected from what is simply everyday English.

Lenny Bruce died for somebody’s sins, but not Bill Grundy’s. — Giovanni Dadomo.

JHG11SCHiSTY

—Pic Richard Young

---

Sounds | 11 December 1976 | Page 1

SOUNDS  |  18 December 1976  |  Page 2

Conspiracy to silence Punk

Have the Sex Pistols’ antics succeeded in making punk rock an outlawed culture? Or are they the victims of a conspiracy by the Rock Establishment to ensure that new young bands are stifled through having nowhere to play?

As Sounds goes to press, there is not one major concert venue in the country that will have the Pistols/Clash punk package. The shattered remains of their British tour are taking place in small independent halls and clubs.

In London the situation has reached crisis point. Already cast out by the Hammersmith Odeon, Rainbow and New Victoria and getting blank responses from every other place they’d tried, they thought they’d found sanctuary at the new Roxy Theatre in Harlesden.

However last week Roxy manager Terry Collins banned the group from appearing at the theatre. They had used it for rehearsals before their tour and had, according to Collins, left the lavatory in a dreadful state with a broken mirror and graffiti all over the walls (most of it referring to some gentleman called Bill Grundy) alleging that he indulges in certain solitary practices.

The Pistols themselves, while not denying that damage had been caused in the toilet, said that there were no lights and they couldn’t even see where to piss. They were also highly suspicious of Mr Collins’ motives for cancelling the gig.

Whoever cancelled a gig because of a broken mirror, said their tour manager last week.

Certainly there did seem to be a delay between the gig being announced and its cancellation but Mr Collins told Sounds that the date was announced without his knowledge. Now, further attempts are being made to find a place in London that will have the band.

After the Derby debacle reported in last week’s news pages the Pistols tour finally opened at Leeds University. A review appears on page 10.

But already there had been signs of a split in the hitherto uniform front that the bands on the tour had hitherto been showing. And so it came to pass that after the Leeds gig The Damned quit the tour, or were fired depending on whose account you believe.

The trouble had started at Derby when The Damned suggested that they and the other bands might play at Derby King’s Hall even though the Pistols had been banned. We made the suggestion because 1,000 tickets had been bought for the concert and it seemed a pity to disappoint them punters, said a spokesman for The Damned. But when the others said no we went along with the majority, he added.

Matters were not helped because The Damned were staying at different hotels from the other bands on the tour — we couldn’t afford to stay in the places the Pistols were staying at.

The Damned claim they were fired from the tour by Pistols’ manager Malcolm McLaren but the first they heard of it was when…

continued page 10

Tour news, From page 2

They picked up the music papers on Wednesday and found that McLaren had called their behaviour at Derby disgusting and added we feel the Damned have no place on this tour.

We had no real disagreement with the Pistols, emphasised the spokesman who added that he found McLaren’s remarks mystifying.

So The Damned returned to London where they played a special benefit concert at Islington’s Hope and Anchor which was filmed for transmission on the continent.

The Damned have no more concerts fixed because they blew out their projected gigs to appear on the Pistols’ tour. They are going back into the studio to complete their debut album.

Then we’ll see what happens. We want to play and if somebody wants us then we’ll be along, said the spokesman.

Were they worried about the punk backlash that might leave them out in the cold as well as far as finding venues is concerned? No. We’re hopeful about getting gigs and the fact that we’ve been kicked off the tour will probably help us.

Meanwhile the Pistols and their entourage — The Clash and Heartbreakers — moved on to Manchester leaving behind them another front page story after a few potted plants became dislodged from their moorings at their Leeds hotel and a warning from the EMI big brass who had been encountering heavy flak from shareholders, that unless the Pistols improved their behaviour EMI might rescind their contract.

At Manchester’s Electric Circus on Thursday night local group Buzzcocks replaced The Damned.

Manchester was hardly welcoming either. They were asked to leave the four-star Midland Hotel after one night and were left without after-gig accommodation. They were also refused a booking at the Belgrade Hotel, Stockport. Former Yugoslav freedom fighter manager, Mr Dragan Lukic, commenting: I don’t want this sort of rubbish in my place when there are so many nice people in the world.

The Pistols eventually did find refuge in the decidedly downmarket Arosa Hotel, Withington. They went off to the gig and the national press reporters moved in, asking the manager such delicate questions as What are you going to do if the Pistols do start causing trouble.

And so when the band returned from the gig, very delayed by the fact that the police had forced them to move the tour bus a mile away, and discovered that a policeman had been sitting waiting for them and the prospective trouble to arrive, the inevitable happened. By mutual agreement, they checked out of the hotel at three o’clock Friday morning and made the trip back to London on the coach, arriving six hours later cheerful but sleepy and tired.

A Luxembourg Radio interview with Rotten was taped in London over the weekend, the original plans to do the interview live in the Grand Duchy being scrapped and DJ Tony Prince being suspended for merely suggesting the idea.

Tour dates have been rearranged and as Sounds goes to press they are: this week — Tuesday, Caerphilly Castle Cinema; Wednesday, Lafayette’s, Wolverhampton; Friday, Market Hall, Carlisle; Saturday, Electric Circus, Manchester. Next week: 20th, Bingley Hall, Birmingham; 21st Plymouth, Wood Centre; 22nd Penelope’s, Paignton; 23rd Plymouth, Wood Centre. For all the gigs, except Manchester where the Buzzcocks are again supporting, the bands playing are the Pistols, The Clash and the Heartbreakers.

---

New punk club

A new club specially aimed at catering for new wave bands will open in London tonight (Tuesday).

Run by ex-Damned manager Andrew Czezowski, The Roxy (not to be confused with the Roxy Theatre, Harlesden, which recently banned punk) ..... rest of text missing

---

What will YOU say when they ask...
What did you do on the Punk tour, daddy?

Pete Silverton reports on what is shaping up to be an all-time classic rock ’n’ roll tour

To turn up to a Sex Pistols’ show nowadays is to make a statement to the world that you care about rock ’n’ roll and don’t give a Bill Grundy what the yellow-press thinks.

And enough kids in Manchester, God bless ’em, were prepared to do just that, almost filling the Electric Circus. However, once there, they weren't quite sure what to do.

When Johnny, Glen, Steve and Paul sliced through the crowd (no folding lotus stages for them ... yet), bounded up the steps and roared straight into Anarchy in the U.K., the kids knew just what to do because they knew the song. They sang along and jumped and bumped me back into the unreceptive arms of the national daily press photographers, one of whom was trying to take his pix with his hands over his ears (try it sometime).

However, with Anarchy searched and destroyed, our heroes (the Pistols and the kids) were on unfamiliar ground. The kids didn’t know the songs and weren't quite sure how to react. The band were visibly tired and disorientated by the happenings of the past week (see news page for the whole story). They’d come, they’d seen, but the conquering had had to be postponed.

Local band, the Buzzcocks, opened the bill in place of the now-off-the-tour Damned. I’d seen them once before (in London) and my second viewing only reinforced my belief that they’re a second-rate, provincial Pistols copy. The lead singer was only honestly interested in performing his eyebrow massage tableau. They’re the façade of the new wave with none of its substance. Their set was notable only for their mutilation of the Troggs’ hoary chestnut, I Can’t Control Myself, the evening's first outbreak of pogo dancing and the fact that a section of the audience disagreed with my sentiments — the Buzzcocks got an encore.

Then came what was probably the best received band of the evening, The Clash. I’m probably supernaturally thick-skinned but, although ex-public schoolboy turned guitarist and vocalist with The Clash, Joe Strummer, in a fit of childlike pique, had me thrown off the coach back to the hotel (I did get reinstated), I still reckon he's currently the quintessential English rhythm guitarist. As rough as a Surform. As energy-charged as a Ford Cosworth V8.

You remember that Sixties bedsit poster of Che Guevara with his eyes pointing upwards to that great Bolivia in the sky? That's how Joe looked once he'd ploughed into the set. Once, that is, he'd told them to shut down the crummy light show with the advice: It’s a bit psychedelic in here, innit? This ain’t Amsterdam, y’know.

Mick Jones bust strings on his guitar. Paul Simonon flashed off his bass with the notes painted on the frets so he knows where to put his fingers and Rob Harper, drummer for the tour, beat hell out of his kit and had lots of fun. The Clash did the greatest hits of their, so far, short career: White Riot (an anti-racist anthem), I’m So Bored (With the U.S.A.), Janie Jones and the sparkling new Hate and War. Their weakest, most strained song Crush on You came as an encore to a splendid set.

Next up, the Heartbreakers, are like the Ramones with songs that have beginnings, middles and ends ... in that order. More straightforward rock ’n’ roll than the other bands on the bill, they had the best drummer in former New York Doll, Jerry Nolan, and the craziest looking bassist in Billy Rath — he could've stepped out of West Side Story.

Walter Lure’s on second guitar and the front man (guitar and vocals) is the other ex-Doll, Johnny Thunders. They’ll be very good in the future but this night they were still in need of match practice and only cut loose three quarters of the way through their set. They also had a great song about a telephone conversation which ends with one of the parties hanging themselves on the phone flex.

Me, I clapped hard but the Heartbreakers went off to polite applause which is when I noticed the stony-faced security goon standing in front of the stage. He answered to the name of John Robinson — You can write what you like about me ’cos I'm getting paid a tenner — and offered the opinion on the evening's entertainment: It’s pure noise, and bad noise at that.

Which ain’t what the kids thought at all. Nick Lomas and Billy Massacre from Clayton Bridge? It’s great. We’ve never seen them before. We’re forming our own band as soon as our mums give us the money for the amps. The sentiments were echoed by most every kid I spoke to — they were certainly all in the process of forming bands, Stiff Kittens (Hooky, Terry, Wroey and Bernard, who has the final word) being the most grotesque offering.

I broke off my enquiries at that point, seeing the Pistols make their move towards the stage, and dived forward to soak up the aforementioned Anarchy.

Now, as Pistols fans go, I’m very much a Johnny-come-lately — for a long time I thought they were very average. But I’d grown to like them and this night in the beautifully apt locale of a converted flea-pit bounded on one side by wasteland and on the other by one-third bricked-off council tenements, I was finally convinced.

I could see that they were well below maximum power — getting thrown out of two hotels before lunchtime does sap your energy somewhat. But anyone who can, as Johnny Rotten did, rejuvenate the tired lines of Substitute when he's evidently exhausted, has got to be one hell of a rock ’n’ roller.

If Johnny was uncharacteristically quiescent, the others almost made up for it. Glen Matlock seemed to be playing his bass in a blur of knee jumps. Steve Jones practised calisthenics between savaging his guitar — he's beginning to justify the legend Guitar Hero sprayed on his amp. And Paul Cook kept right in there with his solid drumming and torn porno T-shirt.

It wasn't really their night though. The kids were all gobbing at the stage, devoid of menace, obviously believing that was the correct behaviour at a Grundy rock-gig. Mr Rotten’s elegant (honest) belted red jerkin and soft mulberry shirt were covered with saliva by the end. It’s up to you. If you wanna keep gobbin’, we won’t play.

They stopped and it was into the God Save the Queen intro to the newie, No Future. Difficult to make a judgement on it but it seemed a good set closer: iconoclastic, demonic and rocking.

The lights went down, came back up and Problems blitzed us all one more time. It was apparently the encore but I didn’t know until I was told later.

It was the end of a great gig but it was also the mark of the unease in the Pistols’ set. They lacked a degree of certainty and concentration just as the crowd were unsure how to pogo.

But, no matter, it’s shaping up to be an all-time classic rock ’n’ roll tour. The sort that'll have your grandchildren asking you: Where were you when the Pistols, the Heartbreakers and the Clash [were] doing the rounds?