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Pistols pack a punch

Matthew d'Ancona

Wednesday, 14th November 2007

‘Anyone in the building under 40?’ asks Johnny Rotten. Yes, I am (just): and, by the looks of things, about 20 others among 3,000-odd punters at the Brixton Academy, come to see the Sex Pistols in their middle-aged prime. Punk isn’t dead. It just drives a people-carrier these days.

But age cannot wither these amazing 30-year old songs. The set opens with the sonic attack of ‘Pretty Vacant’--the best pop record ever, in my book--as Steve Jones’s ferocious guitar forms the wall of sound upon which Rotten’s words are sprayed like seething graffiti.

It is five years since I last saw the Pistols, and it appears that Jones has been eating all the pies since that particular ‘farewell’ concert at Crystal Palace. ‘Fatty’ Jones was the guitarist’s nickname even in the Seventies, but it is no longer a joke name.

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