It had been one of the most unexpected reunions of recent years, but with the recent Pistols series throwing fresh light onto their story, the resurgence of the Sex Pistols has been a much-welcomed return. With the subsequent fallout with the somewhat mercurial John Lydon, meaning that the band needed a new frontman, a savvy nod to all round good guy and modern phenomenon Frank Carter made it a perfect fit. And so it has proved.
Sex Pistols
Frank Carter – Paul Cook – Steve Jones – Glen Matlock
O2 Forum Kentish Town – 26 September 2024
With initial appearances to raise funds for Shepherds Bush venue Bush Hall under their belts, the resulting acclaim was too loud to ignore and a short UK tour was agreed. The Sex Pistols returned to their spiritual home city for the last date.
It is a mixed crowd, as old punks mix with new and the simply curious, a cross-generational gathering that they could have only been amazed and sneered at during the band’s brief but bright height in the late ’70s.
It could have been viewed that to see these three musicians back on stage together, along with an unstoppable Carter, was purely a nostalgic exercise to celebrate one of the greatest albums in music history, but this was way more.
The Pistols were always a band with integrity, saying exactly how they felt and doing things their way. With Carter joining them for these shows, even these songs written almost half a century ago feel fresh and vital. This was a band seemingly revelling in being back onstage together, whilst other reunions seem purely a money grab where animosities and indifference are temporarily papered over whilst dynamically priced tickets are being snapped up.
O2 Forum Kentish Town is packed to the rafters. With the temperature rising rapidly, a start time of nine was extended another half hour due to a member of the audience needing medical help. When the quartet finally hit the stage, they are welcomed like the returning saviours of music in a roar that probably drowned out any and all activity in nearby Camden.
Launching into Holidays In The Sun, this was a band reborn, the fire of old just as scorching but tempered with a class and maturity that put delivery and musicianship as high as the attitude. Irrespective of age, the floor in front of the stage became a seething mass of bodies, pogoing and moving with the sheer excitement of the visceral force of the band as number after number was ripped out.
The sight of Steve Jones and Glen Matlock leaning with their backs to each other whilst Paul Cook savaged the drums was a heady one, the ebullient Carter running around the stage and often finding his way into the audience.
Seventeen, New York and Pretty Vacant were played with venom and the chant of “I’m not an animal” during Bodies still had a heartfelt power. With Carter’s always righteous insistence on making a safe space for the female members of the audience to leap about and his comment of “We’re a punk band…but we’re a punk band who cares,” whilst Jones was tuning his guitar, shows a different attitude to the snarling hedonism of the old days, the feel of family glowing.
The music, too, seems more rounded, and what seemed rough-edged and abrasive comes over now as damn fine songs that centre off the massive hooks as much as the throbbing vitality. Whilst the impact of the band in those halcyon early days was seismic, it is those tunes that have proven to be just as important to prolong their legacy, brilliantly written slices of bristling music with a set of lyrics dripping with vitriol.
God Save The Queen is sung by all like the ironic anthem it is, the joy at hearing this and the heavy-duty Submission bringing an adrenaline rush that is hard to beat. Delivering everything with a suitable snarl, Carter seems like this was the role he was born to play and the chance to front one of the most iconic bands in rock history is a thing he never takes lightly.
It could be said that he has brought a raging fire to the band, and whether he is onstage, crowd surfing or leaping from the stairs into the audience for Satellite, he is one hundred per cent committed. Matching him for unbridled energy, Cook is a machine on the drums, hitting with power and precision that would leave most in his dust and the ultra-cool Matlock and the masterful fretwork of Jones more than hold their own, bringing their own punch to the night.
The Stooges’ cover No Fun is played with indecent enjoyment and when the set closes with a rambunctious E.M.I. it is not too long before the band are brought back due to the deafening clamour of just a few more minutes in their company.
A new take on My Way sees Carter crooning initially and then snarling before the inevitable Anarchy In The U.K. brings the night to its ultimate climax, the very last reserves of energy drained one last frantic time.
Hopefully, this will not be farewell to the legends, and they will be back once more to threaten and thrill. When Carter stands at the front of the stage, turns to the three men with him and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the greatest punk band in the world,” it is impossible to disagree. Magnificent.
