Review by Paul Monkhouse for MPM
Having built a career on doing exactly what they want and flying in the face of all that’s expected of them, it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that The Sex Pistols chose to play in the grandeur of that most venerable concert hall in the country, The Royal Albert Hall.
Having played the sweaty confines of a rammed 100 Club on Friday night, returning to their roots for a not so secret warm-up show, the band are showing a new fire that’s truly revitalised them since the tentative Bush Hall gigs last year. The naysayers may baulk at the Sex Pistols moniker being used by some but the truth is that Steve Jones, Glen Matlock and Paul Cook are three quarters of the finest punk band ever to have caused chaos and have earned the right to stand by whatever they please. With John Lydon eschewing the reunion, the choice of former Gallows frontman Frank Carter has been a perfect choice to replace the singer and his energy, attitude and utter commitment has been an unstoppable force in helping to bring both the classic songs and attitude to life. Packed with punks of all ages, tonight was a celebration unlike anything this gilded hall had seen before.
Strolling onto the stage like they rightly owned it and then tearing into ‘Holidays in the Sun’, the effect was instant as the floor broke out in a sea of moving bodies pogoing and it wasn’t long before the writhing mass saw several of their number crowdsurfing to the front. Even in this huge space, the sheer force and visceral power of the music is breathtaking, the razor sharp riffs of Jones accompanied by the driving rhythms provided by Matlock and Cook irresistible.
Carter looks dapper, his bespoke suit at joyous odds with the wild-eyed charisma and feral command of the stage as he spits out the vitriolic lyrics. The buzzsaw ‘Seventeen’ and wallop of ‘New York’ turn the heat up further before the singer makes the first of many forays into the audience for a rambunctious ‘Pretty Vacant’, several thousand souls bellowing out its defiant lyrics.
An unremitting ‘Bodies’ sees Carter held aloft by extended arms as he makes his way through the crowd on his back and the joyous ‘Silly Thing’ has even the well trained and respectfully professional RAH staff smiling and nodding their heads as the first circle pit of the night forms. One of the most iconic moments of the evening comes when ‘God Save the Queen’ blasts out with its vitriolic blast against the establishment from the very stage that’s seen the National Anthem played countless times over the years, the irony delicious, its “no future” refrain rings around the hall.
The Stooges ‘No Fun’ gets a suitably blistering run through, the age old debate about whether the UK or America had the first punk band brushed aside with this deft nod to Iggy Pop’s crew. There’s obviously a huge sense of occasion here and when Carter announces that this is Jones first time actually coming to the RAH you get a deeper glimpse of just how much it means to the men as musicians to be standing on this stage.
Closing the set with ‘EMI’, it isn’t long before the band come back on for the encore with the gentle start of ‘My Way’, Carter crooning the lyrics like he was born in a tuxedo before the song breaks out into its truly anthemic terrace chant version. It strikes this writer that the last time he saw someone called Frank singing this song here that the vocalist’s last name was Sinatra, tonight matching that long past show for musical nirvana, despite the diametrically opposed approach and styles.
As a coup de grace, ‘Anarchy in the UK’ was the final cherry on the cake, arguably as memorable and historic as any song ever performed here, nothing could have been more perfect to close what was a night for the history books. With the dazzling and important work done by the Teenage Cancer Trust highlighted and supported, it was a win/win for everyone tonight and those who made their way out to trains, buses and taxis were lifted a little higher by the whole experience. What’s next for Carter, Cook, Jones and Matlock is yet to be fully told but with more shows planned their return in these troubling times couldn’t be more apt, their voice of revolution as loud and powerful as ever. Still the greatest punk band in the world.
Photography by John Stead
