Get your Never Mind the Bollocks t-shirt out and sharpen up that mohawk, the veterans of Britain’s punk scene have arrived in a south Glasgow park.
It’s a canny decision from the organisers to have The Rezillos and The Skids on early in the day. As Scotland’s chief representatives in the late seventies’ scene, they’re sure to get a crowd in early.
Richard Jobson may be the only member of The Skids left from the original lineup but he’s got plenty of energy and still carries a tune well. The singer has been in the band since he was 15 years old and playing shows for local schoolkids under the unfortunate slogan “Skids for Kids”.
While most part-time punks may only be familiar with The Saints Are Coming and Into The Valley, the short set makes a decent case for a reappraisal, with songs like the snotty Albert Tatlock and Masquerade showing that there’s more to them than the hits. Jobson shadowboxes his way through the traditional song South Australia before launching into Hurry On Boys, but there are even bigger cheers for a closing cover of The Clash’s Complete Control.
By now the crowd are sweltering in the sun, but bar prices aside, the site seems pretty well set up, with a decent variety of food, plentiful water points and a gentle slope that ensures that even if you’re wanting to rest your feet you can still get a decent view.
Among a crowd that certainly skews into their sixties, there’s plenty of era-specific merch on show. Even if the Pistols never sold an album, the infamous cut and paste artwork of their debut album that seems to adorn every fifth t-shirt would probably ensure they got a decent pension. Perhaps the crowd haven’t kept up with the times though. There are plenty of shirts repping The Damned, Sham 69 and Anti-Nowhere League but Idles are perhaps the only contemporary act to get any t-shirt representation.
Back on stage, Strauss’s Thus Spake Zarathustra – better known as the epic song from 2001: A Space Odyssey – blares out of the speakers as Buzzcocks’ Steve Diggle and compadres take to the stage. Almost seven years on from the death of frontman Pete Shelley, Diggle is keeping the flag flying but today’s set is a bit of a mess, with his vocals frequently incomprehensible and the Buzzcocks’ tight power-pop dragged out with lengthy instrumental segments that sap all the energy out of the set. The pit kicks off for a shouty Orgasm Addict but even the evergreen Ever Fallen In Love? seems a little flat.
Far better are The Undertones, who arguably deliver the show of the day. Famous former frontman Feargal Sharkey may be off campaigning to save Britain’s rivers but long-time replacement Paul McLoone is a more than able replacement. There’s a touch of camp to his over-the-top stage moves, while his four musical counterparts are as tight and punchy as ever on tracks like the dramatic When Saturday Comes. Teenage Kicks remains as perfect a song as anything ever written, while crowd surfing breaks out to the final stomp-along My Perfect Cousin. The fact that bassist Michael Bradley can dedicate Thrill Me to a couple’s fortieth wedding anniversary only highlights how well these teenage anthems have stood the test of time.
By this point in the afternoon, some of the bald heads in the crowd are starting to look extremely sunburnt. Perhaps some of them should have availed themselves of the extremely un-punk £40 VIP ticket upgrades.
Next up onstage though, are another band who have shed members since their heyday but still know how to deliver a solid show. The lower tempos behind Stranglers’ songs might make them a less instant proposition than The Undertones but there’s a solid array of classics here like the always-popular-in-Glasgow skank of Nice And Sleazy and the snarled No More Heroes. The best run though sees the band at their most melodic, threading their way through Always The Sun and Golden Brown as the sun begins to dip over the park. Fleet fingered bassist JJ Burnel may be the only member left from the group’s heyday but he’s found a fitting counterpart in singer/guitarist Baz Warne whose pub bouncer build and gruff delivery make him a perfect vehicle for these songs.
Finally it’s time for the headliners.
Arguably it was The Sex Pistols who kickstarted the trend for wallet-enhancing comeback tours with their infamous run of Filthy Lucre shows in the late nineties, so not surely not even the absent John Lydon could argue with the band’s decision to give it another go?
Well, the man formerly known as Johnny Rotten may have kicked off in the press, but it’s hard to hold that against his replacement, ex-Gallows frontman Frank Carter, whose snaggle toothed delivery and crowd-hyping abilities are a perfect match for the three returning Pistols.
If anything, it’s the crowd who prove themselves to be unworthy of a committed performance that delivers the bulk of Never Mind the Bollocks plus a handful of covers and extras including their infamous take on My Way.
Carter hurls himself around the stage, urges a circle pit, disappears in the crowd and pays effusive tribute to some of the greatest punk rock songs ever written but aside from those close to the barrier the energy levels in the audience never reach the levels of sweaty derangement found in the archive footage beamed onscreen.
Perhaps that is unsurprising. To have been a teenager when the Pistols debut came out, you’d have to be over 60 now but if this was truly one of the formative influences of your life, perhaps you could feed back a little more energy to a band who perform with few faults.
Maybe it’s the sun, maybe it’s the length of the day but while singles like Anarchy in the UK, God Save The Queen and Pretty Vacant generate a few raised voices, overall this feels like an awfully subdued audience.
As the show comes to a close, Carter inserts a few lines calling out the IDF and the USA for their conduct in Gaza and Iran, and an appreciative whisper runs through the crowd before dying down once more.
Back in the day, the Sex Pistols kickstarted a musical revolution. It’s hard to begrudge their fanbase a chance to relive their nostalgia but for those who weren’t there first time round, it’s difficult to feel the full impact.
Words: Max Sefton
Pictures: Stevie Oi! @gig_photography_glasgow