PiL’s support tonight at Glasgow’s O2 Academy is Brix Smith, who will forever be associated with The Fall, though the singer-songwriter and guitarist has been fronting her own band, The Extricated for a good few years now. But her sole focus at the moment is upcoming new solo album ‘Valley of the Dolls’, which she wrote with Killing Joke’s Youth.
BRIX SMITH (& ‘THE MOTHER****** OF ALL-GIRL BANDS’)
Brazenly parading the stage like she owns it, which, quite frankly she does, Smith’s flanked by what she’s described as ‘the mother****** of all-girl bands’. By that she means My Bloody Valentine’s Jen Macro and Deb Googe on keyboard/guitar and bass respectfully, and punk duo Deux Furieuses’ Vas Antoniadou on drums. Unfortunately we’re told that the band’s other half, “great Scottish lass” Ros Cairney couldn’t make it tonight after going down with a “really bad case of Covid”. Smith’s clearly proud of her live collective, who she’s described as “top post-punk feminists” who give her a different dynamic. The result is a vibrant jangle of frenzied rock.
Ever-gregarious, Brix’s on great form, chatting away about what the band’s got in store for us before they showcase tracks from Valley of the Dolls, themed around her dystopian version of California. She whips off her jacket for California Smile, a bittersweet number about “whoring yourself to get what you want”, opening with a saccharine radio jingle and sunny, energetic punch before the loom of the chorus uncovers the grim reality lurking beneath the Golden State’s veneer of hope “where people go to find themselves but end up being crushed”. The fiery Valley Girl follows, before All Of My Love, with its dark lyrics “about someone really creepy”.
Smith knows the audience expect something by The Fall, saying “you’ve gotta honour The Fall, man”, with Totally Wired delivering just that. She even dedicates a number to Alan McGee who she describes as being her mentor before lowering the pace with Black Butterfly, symbolising transformation after “the loneliness, the fear and the isolation we’ve all gone through for the last couple of years”.
Oozing a confidence I wish she’d bottle, it feels like Smith can do what she likes in the knowledge she was once an intrinsic part of one of post-punk’s greatest bands. And with songwriting as astute as this, tonight’s supergroup have every reason to be loud and proud amongst the predominately male audience. In all honesty, I can’t help but smile in solidarity at their relentless and rebellious performance.
PUBLIC IMAGE LIMITED
No prizes for guessing what band PiL’s frontman John Lydon will always be associated with. The master menace is in fine form tonight, both in spirit and vocally as he hovers behind his pulpit in oversized black shirt and tie, that devious glint never leaving his eyes.
The brooding riff of opening number Religion II echoes around the O2 Academy, its glorious bass drilling deep into Glasgow’s underground system. Lydon howls “Re-li-gi-on” like a mad man before satanically snarling the same word then repeating it in full preacher glory, hamming it up like a deli. His head jerks and demeanour flips like he’s being attacked by a swarm of midges, all the time consuming the crowd with his theatre of eccentricities.
The PiL line up has inevitably changed over the years, Lydon the only constant, once saying of the comings and goings “the list was damned well endless”, but the current contingent have been in place for a good while now, with a dapper Lu Edmonds on guitar, Scot Firth on bass (primarily an electric stand-up version), while over on drums, Bruce Smith sports a fine looking black shirt, splattered with white PiL logos. Lydon, on vocals of course, reminds us that he’s 66 years old and “planning make the triple”, the ole devil that he is. His manager and life-long friend Rambo keeps watch from the wings while swaying from foot to foot, ready to make a bolt towards any hint of threat.
There’re no new numbers tonight, but the audience aren’t complaining, a visit from PiL always an excuse to revisit their youth. That said, many have never let go of the old punk spirit which can be felt charging through the crowd. There is, of course, less elaborate hair for obvious reasons and fewer casualties in the mosh pit, and although the abrasive rush of This Is Not A Love Song and distorted groove of Death Disco give rise to a fair bit of movement, I don’t think anyone’s slipped and tripped on a vomit of gob. The studs and chains are in retreat and as the fanbase never really took to turning up in giant, multi-coloured ’80s suits, it’s pretty much a sea of jeans and PiL t-shirts.
The opening pulses of Public Image send a shiver round the stuffy O2 as Lydon cries a mischievous “Hello”. He scowls, sneers and smirks his way through the band’s timeless and timely debut single in a perfect performance of a number which feels as fresh today as it was back in 1978. Then again, it would be given how influential it’s been to the post-punk movement, Beastie Boy Adam Horovitz reflecting on 2018’s documentary The Public Image Is Rotten that it was “like a diagram on how to write a song…the bass starts and the whole thing kicks in”.
Back on stage for the encore, Lydon growls “Listen,” with a pause for effect. “A few years ago my dad died so I wrote a requiem for him. It was called Shoom. The odd thing is, those lyrics apply so well to those f***ing fake FX pistols, it’s amazing…” before laying into Danny Boyle and his “Walt Disney millions”. He delivers every word with space for crowd contemplation and reaction, and that he gets. Then “in the imitable words of my father,” he convulses down the mic “f*** you”, hurling into Shoom and spewing obscenities from his many wicked tongues.
A PiL variant of Leftfield’s Open Up follows, and although there’s no blazing techno beats, it still lights up the room. Last up is 1986’s pop chant, Rise, ending an outstanding performance from all four band members. Before leaving the stage, Lydon says what I think is “now you can call me the answer to everything”. Well he’s certainly got an answer for everything… and I’d never argue with that!
Words: Shirley Mack @musingsbymarie
Pictures: Calum Mackintosh @ayecandyphotography