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Rating: EX PISTOLS IN PUNKLAND.
By now it's a ritual: once a month, this dumbass of my nephew, who’s already this tall, wants me to take him to PunkDonalds and get stuffed with CrispyMacDamned, ChipStooges, MacBuzzocks, and various N.Y.Dolls-shakes.
How sweet, I think to myself: his first addictions, sich!
I park the motorcycle between a rancid-colored Smart Clash and an SH Ramone 250 with pins stuck in the windshield and the rear box with the jelly-frozen crest effect.
The notes of a dirty Punk very fuck-offy tune (Yes... it's actually "Anarchy In The UK" remixed by Linus!) are coming out from the place.
The guy at the counter has a torn t-shirt with bloody writings that I suppose come from the chickens slaughtered back in the kitchen.
My nephew yells at the counter, "Hey dickhead, get me a Happy Meal with Prozac but without ketchup because yours makes me puke?"
The tall guy at the counter shows him the middle finger and goes off to prepare the bountiful meal with a clumsy, pondering step.
I peek around.
In a corner, two elderly proto-punks of the first wave, under the guise of having a classic hamburger, are reading Il Foglio di Ferrara at 5 cm away; one has crutches leaning on the table next to him, and the other is in a life-long plaster cast, the result of too much moshing in '77.
With the Happy Meal this week they give you this amusing CD titled "Jubilee" from these pseudo-Sex Pistols, reunited once again with some another bullshit excuse. Really them: the most famous gang of crap-disturbers who more or less unconsciously launched the "punk movement" worldwide, gathered again for Money, Fame, and Commemorations.
Surprise, surprise, the same things that they were more or less attacking thirty years ago (as someone sang a few years ago, perhaps in San Remo).
A CD with yet another compilation (in fact, it seems the band has published only one "real" album, the famous "Never Mind the Bollocks" from '77) released on the occasion of the Queen's Jubilee (which, said like this, it's unclear if it's an actual provocation or if they're totally cashing in on it, but oh well, deal with it: this confusion will accompany us to the grave!).
A CD virtually useless for those who know the band's work, except for some video contributions with the original clips (?!) of "God Save the Queen," "Anarchy in the USA," "Pretty Vacant," and a live piece from the "Filthy Lucre Tour" of 1996. A CD blatantly "fake" born only to cash in (as Rotten has recently declared with delight, but you know: supporters will defend it as yet another provocation desired by the Pistol boys... oh, blessed idolatry!).
A CD perhaps good for the young generations who get off listening to those three idiots from Green Day or mosh gleefully to Avril Lavigne's crap, confusing punk with the knock-off of some Ferrero snack cake and living a "rebellion" that in fact NO LONGER EXISTS except for the sanitised, tamed, and rehashed version on glossy paper by the likes of "Xelle" from Repubblica or those bullshit MTV broadcasts that are getting more and more ridiculous, cool, and trendy, hosted by idiot VJs who always look "high" by cokeheads with a one-way ticket. Stuff that's domesticated and harmless, which they will eventually sell as an attachment to Sorrisi e Canzoni TV or as a Happy-Meal surprise in Mac Donalds (precisely).
That little bastard of my nephew, in a punkish rapture, starts moshing around the place and spills the Vicious-Coke on a tattooed anorexic 50-year-old, who in response spits half a liter of putrid magma on him.
"Awesome these, huh? Who the hell are these, huh? Hey uncle... these guys really kick ass, huh? Uncle Punny, are you listening to me?"
I turn the CD cover over in my hands and can't tell how much of it is the work of the Pistol gang and how much of it is the marketing department of their record company. The same damn Big Commercial Operation? The "Great Rock'n'roll Swindle"? Yes or no? YEAH!!
I sit down for a moment.
My head spins wildly.
A little kid next to me is staring at me with his big eyes from his stroller, intent on licking a VitaminPLUS ACE marijuana stick.
"So?" says the old punk on the bench.
"Problems?" echoes the other one with rotten teeth from too much crack in his youth.
"And you guys? All good?"
"All good: Never mind ‘these pricks'....eh eh eh!" and as he laughs, a dental cap falls into the leftover mayonnaise in the little 10-cent chrome tray.
Fleets of kids arrive with their pants sagging to their knees, underwear showing, mentadent thongs sticking out from tender buttocks with piercings stabbing the puncturable. It seems that the junkie look comes standard even in the base model.
I watch my brother’s son getting into a fight with two pissed women who are mad about being pushed; one holds him down and the other kicks him without holding back. The rest of the group joins in.
Chairs fly, splashes of Velvet-Coke all around, flags burst, balloons wave, people scream, swear, kick.
And the wreck is sweet in this sea.
In fact, I watch and don't bat an eye.
All this tires me.
All this drains me.
I pretend not to see and look again at this CD of these remnants from the last century, then think of the "real" Sex Pistols, the ones seen on DVD in "The Filth and the Fury," the Julien Temple documentary film, and think of all the ruckus they caused for a couple of years, the loads of crap they were given everywhere, the little money they made, and the swindles they got (and gave) around. And then look again at this conceptually old and trite cover using the "usual" punk postcard iconography (torn edges, seemingly random letters, irreverent photo towards the System, in short... a real punk-style cheat sheet: MORE "CONSERVATIVE" THAN THIS YOU DIE!!!).
On one side I watch my nephew getting beaten up and on the other I’m left alone with this fucking CD in my hands as if there were an inexplicable thin red line between these two gravitational poles tearing me inside.
I stand still and immobile, incapable of the slightest reaction.
And I look at the cover.
And I look at the beatings given to the little one.
And it’s like seeing everything go in "slow motion."
The kid calls me, asks for help, reaches a hand toward me, but his voice is distorted, torn, the echo of a ghost and I’m strongly torn between the typical reaction of an injured relative and complete apathy.
"Fuck off, dumbass," a new Joe Strummer tells me, throwing the rest of my nephew at my feet "and get the hell out of here, you trash, nothing but trash."
I pull out the "sexy pistols" CD and flick it through my fingers like an old magician. Just one quicker move than usual and the 15-year-old's jugular is split in two like a perfect surgical incision, spraying the crowd with acidic blood already putrefying at the source. The boy falls to the ground with half a CD stuck in his throat while all around chaos erupts.
I grab the little shit by the neck like a cat and take him out of the place as the dance of ambulances, police, cops, dwarfs, and dancers begins.
The only ones missing are Fellini and Zampanò.
I speed at 160 on the highway with the load of stupidity and innocence lying behind in a state of almost enviable semi-consciousness.
"Oh... my god uncle, what the ... hell happened..."
"They beat you to a pulp and I didn’t do shit to defend you."
Silence.
"Explain this to me?"
"No."
Silence.
"Uncle"
"Yes"
"Everything hurts but... I wanted to tell you..."
"Tell me"
"Well... for a few minutes... but just for a little... well... I felt like I was living something strong, unique and, how to say, mind-blowing... I was scared but I also felt the adrenaline charging me a thousand and taking over me... if I think about it I still get chills... what the hell was it? Eh uncle?"
Silence.
I hold back a slight bitter smile between my teeth.
Some things you either live or explain.
Certainly not commemorate.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 God Save the Queen (03:19)
God save the queen
The fascist regime
They made you a moron
A potential H bomb
God save the queen
She ain't no human being
And there's no future
In England's dreaming
Don't be told what you want, you want
And don't be told what you need
There's no future, no future
No future for you
God save the queen
We mean it man
We love our queen
God saves
God save the queen
'Cause tourists are money
And our figurehead
Is not what she seems
Oh God save history
God save your mad parade
Oh lord God have mercy
All crimes are paid
When there's no future, how can there be sin
We're the flowers in the dustbin
We're the poison in your human machine
We're the future, your future
God save the queen
We mean it man
We love our queen
God saves
God save the queen
We mean it man
And there's no future
In England's dreaming
No future
No future
No future for you
No future
No future
No future for me
No future
No future
No future for you
No future
No future
No future for you
02 Anarchy in the UK (03:31)
Right! NOW! Ha ha ha ha ha
I am an Antichrist
I am an anarchist
Don't know what I want but
I know how to get it
I wanna destroy the passer by
'cos I
I wanna be anarchy!
No dog's body
Anarchy for the U.K
It's coming sometime and maybe
I give a wrong time stop a traffic line
Your future dream is a shopping scheme 'cos I
I wanna be anarchy!
In the city
How many ways to get what you want
I use the best I use the rest
I use the NME I use anarchy 'cos I
I wanna be anarchy!
It's the only way to be
Is this the MPLA
Or is this the UDA
Or is this the IRA
I thought it was the UK or just
Another country
Another council tenancy
I wanna be anarchy
And I wanna be anarchy
Oh what a name
I wanna be an anarchist
Get pissed! Destroy!
03 Pretty Vacant (03:16)
There's no point in asking you'll get no reply
Oh just remember a don't decide
I got no reason it's all too much
you'll always find us
Out to lunch !
Oh we're so pretty oh so pretty VACANT
but now AND WE DON'T CARE
Don't ask us to attend cos we're not all there
Oh don't pretend cos I don't care
I don't believe illusions cos too much is real
so stop your cheap comment
cos we know what we feel
We're pretty pretty vacant
We're pretty pretty vay-CUNT
And we don't care
04 Holidays in the Sun (03:20)
A Cheap holiday in other peoples misery!
I don't wanna holiday in the sun
I wanna go to new Belsen
I wanna see some history
'Cause now i got a reasonable economy
Now I got a reason, now I got a reason
Now I got a reason and I'm still waiting
Now I got a reason
Now I got reason to be waiting
The Berlin Wall
Sensurround sound in a two inch wall
Well I was waiting for the communist call
I didn't ask for sunshine and I got World War three
I'm looking over the wall and they're looking at me
Now I got a reason, Now I got a reason
Now I got a reason and I'm still waiting
Now I got a reason,
Now I got a reason to be waiting
The Berlin Wall
They're staring all night and
They're staring all day
I had no reason to be here at all
But now i gotta reason it's no real reason
And I'm waiting at Berlin Wall
I'm gonna go over the Berlin Wall
I don't understand this thing at all
I gonna go over and over the Berlin Wall
I'm gonna go over the Berlin Wall
I'm gonna go over the Berlin Wall
Claustrophobia there's too much paranoia
There's too many closets oh when will we fall?
And now I gotta reason,
It's no real reason to be waiting
The Berlin Wall
I gotta go over the Wall
I don't understand this thing at all
It's third rate
Cheap dialogue,cheap essential scenery
I gotta go over the wall
I wanna go over the Berlin Wall
Before me come over the Berlin Wall
I don't understand this bit at all...
I'm gonna go over the wall
I'm gonna go over the Berlin Wall
I'm gonna go over the Berlin Wall
Before me come over the Berlin Wall
I don't understand this thing at all
Please don't be waiting for me
05 No One Is Innocent (03:01)
God save the sex pistols they're a bunch of wholesome blokes
They just like wearing filthy clothes and swapping filthy jokes
God save television keep the programms pure
God save William Grundy from falling in manure
Ronnie Biggs was doing time until he done a bunk
Now he says he's seen the light and he sold his soul to punk
God save Martin Boorman and nazis on the run
They wasn't being wicked God that was their idea of fun
God save Myra Hindley God save Ian Brady
Even though he's horrible and she ain't what you call a lady
Ronnie Biggs was doing time until he done a bunk
Now he says he's seen the light and he sold his soul to punk
Ronnie Biggs was doing time until he done a bunk
Now he says he's seen the light and he sold his soul to punk
God save politicians God save our friends the pigs
God save Idi Amin and god save Ronald Biggs
God save all us sinners God save your blackest sheep
God save the good samaritan and god save the worthless creep
Ronnie Biggs was doing time until he done a bunk
Now he says he's seen the light and he sold his soul to punk
Ronnie Biggs was doing time until he done a bunk
Now he says he's seen the light and he sold his soul to punk
Sold his soul Sold his soul Sold his soul to punk
07 Something Else (02:10)
Look at that
Here she comes
Here comes that girl again
One of the cutest since I don't know when
But she don't notice me when I pass
She goes with all the guys from outta my class
But that can't stop me from thinkin' to myself
She's sure fine lookin', man, she's something else
Look at that
'Cross the street
There's a car built just for me
To own a car would be a luxury
But right now I can't afford the gas
A brand new convertible is out of my class
But that can't stop me from thinkin' to myself
That car's fine lookin', man, it's something else
Hey, look at that
Just wait and see
Worked hard and saved my dough
I buy that car and then I roll up with Joe
Get me that girl and we go ridin' around
We look real sharp with the wide top down
I keep on dreamin' and thinkin' to myself
When it all comes true, man, that's something else
Hey, look at that
What's all this?
Never thought I'd do this before
But here I'm a-knockin' on her door
My car's out front and it's all mine
It's a '41 job not a '59
I got that girl and I'm thinkin' to myself
She's sure fine lookin', man, she's something else
09 Silly Thing (02:48)
What you see, you can't get,
nothing's free, nothing's set,
Don't be fooled by the signs,
don't read in-between the lines.
What you gonna say,
what you gonna do,
man you missed out once again,
but i thought you knew.
(Chorus)
Oh you silly thing, you've really gone and done it now,
Oh you silly thing, you've really gone and done it now,
Trouble here, trouble there,
people stop, just to stare,
what's the use of wasting time,
just move on leave it all behind.
What you gonna say,
what you gonna do,
man you missed out once again,
but i thought you knew.
Oh you silly thing, you've really gone and done it now,
Oh you silly thing, you've really gone and done it now,
oh you silly thing, nothing but trouble that you bring,
and one of these days you're gonna die,
and people will say oh my oh my,
and people will say oh my my my.
Oh you silly thing, you've really gone and done it now,
Oh you silly thing, you've really gone and done it now,
Oh you silly thing, you've really gone and done it now,
Oh you silly thing, you've really gone and done it now.
10 C'mon Everybody (01:56)
Well c'mon everybody and let's get together tonight
I got some money in my jeans
And I'm really gonna spend it right
Well I've been doin' my homework all week long
Now to have some fifty and my folk are gone
Ooh! C'mon everybody
Oh well, my baby's number one
But I'm gonna dance with three or four
And the house will be shakin' from the bare feet
A-stampin' on the floor
Well when you here the music, you can't still
If your brother won't rock, your sister will
Ooh! C'mon everybody
Oh well, we really haven't money
But we gotta put a guard outside
If the folks come home
I'm afraid, they're gonna have my hide
There'd be no more movies for a week or two
No more runnin' 'round with the usual crew-who cares?
C'mon everybody
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