Nevermind The Bollocks, Here’s The Sex Pistols was revolutionary as an album. It practically reignited punk rock as a medium of communication. Weirdly, bassists Glen Matlock and Sid Vicious both wrote the music, but hardly played on it. The vast majority of the four-string parts were done by guitarist Steve Jones, changing fluid counterpoints into more aggressive, choppy hooks. An older Matlock reflects on his tenure in this excellent rock bio.
And still Matlock and Vicious are remembered for their contributions to the band. Vicious’s brief life was immortalised in the Sid and Nancy (Alex Cox, 1986) drama. It’s high time Matlock got his film. He was an English teenager who fancied performing with Rod Stewart & The Faces in the early 1970s. “Playing bass is a bit like having a wank”, he chuckles; “..boom, boom, boom”. In the end he connected with Jones and drummer Paul Cook, before angry singer John Lydon fronted the group.
Inspired by Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood’s SEX shop (a boutique that sold countercultural garments), the Sex Pistols embodied rebellion. They caused consternation across Britain in December 1976 when they appeared on Bill Grundy’s show swearing. Shaking his head, Matlock says family members wouldn’t speak to him for a long time after that broadcast. Suddenly gigs were cancelled, and the band (plus McLaren) did everything they could to get a record deal.
Cook and Jones were close, while Matlock and Lydon stood as loners, despite being the chief writers. Matlock was inspired by an ABBA song to write Pretty Vacant, while the words to God Save The Queen were in response to a charged riff the bass player devised. It made for energetic and inventive music, but it didn’t aid the longevity of the group. Inevitably, Lyndon offered everyone an ultimatum: him or Matlock. “We should have stood up for Glen a bit”, Cook ruefully admits to the camera regarding the departure. Lyndon invited his friend Sid Vicious, adding some parity: Cook & Jones had the acumen, the other two the image. The group broke up after one album.
Despite this shabby treatment, Matlock remained upbeat, forming Rich Kids with Scottish singer Midge Ure. They enjoyed chart success, and to many people’s surprise, Matlock reignited a friendship with Vicious. Chuckling about a drunken conversation that led to a gig, the older Matlock said he would perform bass if the other sang. Things turn sour when Matlock realises that the money Vicious earned went on his heroin addiction. Evidently, the guilt still wears on the documentary subject that he may have had a hand in his replacement’s early demise. Vicious died in 1979, aged 21.
In more recent years, Matlock toured with The Faces, the energetic punk band that inspired him to become a musician.Subsequently, he joined Blondie. Vocalist Debbie Harry lights up when she speaks about him. Evidently, Matlock was the most accomplished member of The Sex Pistols, something McLaren begrudgingly accepted in later interviews. Lydon likewise conceded that their different interests aided the songwriting process. Curiously, The Sex Pistols informed the press that Matlock was ousted due to his preference for Beatles music, an odd thing to say since John Lennon’s Help! practically started the confessional rocker.
The central premise of punk was to get up and play, a stark contrast to the guitar interludes that populated pop radios in the late 1960s. Judging by this documentary Cook, Matlock and Jones still pride themselves on their shared efforts: a blaze that burned out almost as quickly as it was lit.It’s high time this songwriting bassist got his place in the sunlight, and it’s hard to think of a better way he could be celebrated.
I Was a Teenage Sex Pistol premieres at the 12th edition of the Doc’n Roll Film Festival.
