Starting out in 1975 as teenagers playing stolen instruments, Sex Pistols emerged amongst the founding fathers of punk. They splashed the British music scene in 1977 with their debut album “Never Mind the Bollocks, here’s the Sex Pistols”, defined by dirty, barbed lyrics on themes such as abortion, Berlin and the Queen.
With their original frontman Johnny Rotten becoming estranged from the band, I never imagined I’d see Sex Pistols perform live.
But in the summer of 2024, it was announced Frank Carter was to be joining Steve Jones, Glen Matlock and Paul Cook as the new singer for a one-off benefit gig to save their old haunt, Bush Hall, in London. After an instant sell out, the event expanded into three gigs and then snowballed into a world tour, including a Teenager Cancer Trust benefit gig at the Royal Albert Hall.
Supported by Molotov and Hastings’ fabulous Kid Kapichi, I couldn’t resist the chance to head up to the capital to see the infamous Sex Pistols.
The venue
I’d never been to the Royal Albert Hall before. And from the off I was struck by the formality and general poshness of the venue. Doors were held open by staff, the beer was eye-wateringly priced, and the wallpaper had peacocks on it. There was something quite juxtaposing about seeing a band so furious and so stirring as Sex Pistols in a building used to seeing ballet and orchestras.
I suspect Prince Albert would be turning in his mausoleum if he knew his concert hall was hosting such uncultured filth.
Kid Kapichi
The Hasting’s punk four piece hit the stage with no time to waste, given just a 30 minute set, charging into their first track, ‘Artillery’ before bouncing into the motivational mantra anthem ‘Let’s Get To Work’.
At this point there was one clear problem, where are the mosh pits?
Much of the crowd saw little movement more than a slight jig of their leg. Some particularly disrespectful members of the audience even found it necessary to have a conversation throughout the performance.
The band brought a brilliantly articulated performance inspired by punk rock and ska. Their performance was as energetic as always with bassist Eddie Lewis charging round the stage in a vest in front of a digital image of Donald Trump and Putin enjoying a kiss.
But before I knew it, their set was over. 30 minutes is about a third of the length of an average gig and I was disappointed to see the band leave the stage so soon, especially when there was still almost an hour until Sex Pistols, albeit this was not the fault of the band.
Teenage Cancer Trust
The gig was held to raise funds for the vital work of the charity Teenage Cancer Trust and before Sex Pistols landed on the stage, a 20-minute speech was given all about the work of the charity.
Sadly I was stood next to some very disrespectful audience members who loudly spoke over a cancer survivor as she told her story on stage. It was disheartening to see fans acting in a way that reflects the opposite of what punk bands stand for.
Sex Pistols
My punk idols, fronted by the heavily tattooed and riotous Frank Carter, were due to begin at 9.15pm. The lights began to dim, and the crowd started to chatter with anticipation. One by one the band walked out onto the stage to the sound of an orchestra rendition of ‘God Save the Queen’, with frontman Frank Carter wearing a jet-black suit and shirt wandering around gently golf-clapping.
But the light applause quickly subsided into pulsing drum beats and vigorous guitar strumming as Carter dived into the Pistols’ classic, ‘Holidays in The Sun’.
The set list pushed through into Seventeen and the chanting began, “I’m a lazy sod… I’m a lazy sod”. I need not have worried about a lack of mosh pits, the crowd opened and collapsed into a full throttle shoving competition. The pits contained mainly fans over the age of 40 who to my surprise held up pretty strongly despite the bashing and bruising. Maybe the overpriced IPA had a slight sedative effect, numbing the elbows and head collisions…
“Let me just do my suit jacket up, my mother told me never to look a mess in public” advised Frank.
It might be the suit and tattoos but in that moment he reminded me of a James Bond villain leading some kind of cult, as he stood held by countless arms on top of the crowd.
A grungy and stringy guitar opening filled the room as Carter erupted into the gut-wrenching ‘Bodies’. The graphic lyrics were delivered with shrieking, shouting and hints of melody. I’m tempted to suggest I prefer Carter’s rendition to Johnny Rotten…
At this point I noticed a strange scent that had repeatedly filled the area. A less diligent member of the audience had taken up the role of what I can only describe as a phantom farter. I was trapped in a mosh pit in which the air was filled with the violent scent of flatulence. Luckily the audience began to stir as Carter leapt into the crowd and orchestrated a circle pit around himself whilst singing ‘Silly Thing’.
A two-tier hierarchy quickly emerged. Those brave enough to run in circles whilst shouting lyrics, and those who chose to stand at the side and watch whilst gently sipping their beer. I was part of the former and quickly became quite exhausted by the chanting whilst trying not to collide with people.
The set ended with ‘EMI’ before an encore for ‘My Way’ and ‘Anarchy In the UK’.
I can certainly see why the band chose Frank Carter to take Johnny Rotten’s place. He is musically talented but isn’t afraid of stripping back to basic shouting, crowd surfing and mosh pits. For most of the gig my eyes were fixed on Frank’s antics, barely taking a moment to glance over at Matlock, Jones and Cook.
I’ve seen Carter perform many times as part of his old band ‘The Rattlesnakes’ and he has an unmistakeably bold and bullish showmanship. But that night I noticed, on the odd occasion, that his mannerisms appeared slightly “Johnny Rotten’ish”. I suppose it’s hard to fill the shoes of Rotten without taking on a few of his habits.
Those that called the reunion tour a ‘Sex Pistols tribute band’ clearly haven’t seen the seamless dynamic between Frank Carter and the classic talent of the original band members.
All in all it was an amazing gig. The crowd was passionate, the venue was stunning and the band were on point.
You can catch Sex Pistols at Margate’s Dreamland theme park in August.
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