THE BEAT GOES ON
MANCHESTER, ENG.—It’s punk rock night in seedy, industrial Manchester, and the crowd has assembled here to watch the latest British rock sensations, the Sex Pistols, who have been riding a wave of notoriety the likes of which has not been seen here since the Stones went around relieving themselves against walls.
THE BEAT GOES ON
Sex Pistols Squat On The Box
MANCHESTER, ENG.-It’s punk rock night in seedy, industrial Manchester, and the crowd has assembled here to watch the latest British rock sensations, the Sex Pistols, who have been riding a wave of notoriety the likes of which has not been seen here since the Stones went around relieving themselves against walls. Leaders of the new breed of angry young rockers who are sick and tired of such over the hill and irrelevant money grubbers as the Who, Stones and Led Zeppelin, the Sex Pistols wear the uniform of the new revolutionary army. Shirts and slacks deliberately torn apart, then re-assembled with safety pins, and an assortment of bondage paraphernalia (chains around necks, arms, ankles). Lead singer Johnny Rotten sports the latest in hairstyle crazes—short hair greased, then messed up so that every hair stands on end. In the audience here, some 3V2 hours’ drive from the center of England’s punk scejje in London, you can see the signs. An assortment of guys who seem to have gotten caught in a mixmaster on the way to the show and girls wearing three pounds of makeup—on one eye.