JOHNNY ON THE SPLIT: “I’m A Free Man!”
Just as we were going to press, pasting up pictures of Messrs. Rotten, Vicious, Jones and Cook, the news broke. The band had broken up in San Francisco, Johnny revealed, in an interview with Rupert Murdoch’s N.Y. Post. To add to the confusion, Sid Vicious O.D.’d on the plane from S.F. to New York—he’d reportedly been given a two-day dose of methadone to last him until he got to London, but had taken it all at once, managing to land himself in a Jamaica, N.Y., hospital.
The CREEM Archive presents the magazine as originally created. Digital text has been scanned from its original print format and may contain formatting quirks and inconsistencies.
JOHNNY ON THE SPLIT: “I’m A Free Man!”
Just as we were going to press, pasting up pictures of Messrs. Rotten, Vicious, Jones and Cook, the news broke. The band had broken up in San Francisco, Johnny revealed, in an interview with Rupert Murdoch’s N.Y. Post. To add to the confusion, Sid Vicious O.D.’d on the plane from S.F. to New York—he’d reportedly been given a two-day dose of methadone to last him until he got to London, but had taken it all at once, managing to land himself in a Jamaica, N.Y., hospital. Johnny was waiting out the NYC blizzard at photographer Joe Stevens’ apartment (a fact reported in the Post), so in the course of talking photos with Joe, we started asking questions of Johnny through him (“John says...” ‘Well ask him if...”). After a few minutes of this, John took the phone himself, and despite his protests that he didn’t want to comment on anything, the gak went as follows:
Rotten: “I’m not going to comment on the other’s insecurities.”
CREEM: So the band has split up?
Rotten: “Yes. It was the perfect time, really. We’d achieved just what we wanted to do: fuck up the media. We’d gone as far as that particular unit could go. What is it you wanted to know?”
CREEM: Uh—Pistols cover story... band split-up?...???!!!??
Rotten: “Well then this would be the best time to run the story, wouldn’t it? The fact that the story is fucked up and that you can’t write it—that’s the story. That’s what we set out to jdo.”
CREEM: Have you talked to Malcolm?
Rotten: “No.”
CREEM: Sid?
Rotten: “Not since the break-up.”
CREEM: So you’re up in the air as far as a record contract?
Rotten: “I really have nothing of the sort right now. I don’t know. I haven’t called Warners and they haven’t called me...
“This whole thing—the British press made such a monumental mess out of it, in typical fashion. They fucked up everything I ever said. I can’t wait to see what they’ll do with this.”
CREEM: So exactly what happened?
"I'm quite pleased."
Rotten: “I didn’t quit them [the Pistols], they all just decided to quit me—at once. It was really quite pathetic; I met them all at the lift in the hotel, leaving. There are really a million reasons why, including that they didn’t like their breakfast that morning. There’s no point in being miserable about it—I’m a free man! I’m quite pleased,”
CREEM: When you pop up again in London—
Rotten: “Pop up? I’m not going away, I’m not leaving. I’m not going to become a recluse—go away and play my mandolin in a hole.
“It’s quite exciting really. The only difference is that I’m off on my own now.”
CREEM: What about a new band?
Rotten: “That’s for me to know and you to wonder...[wonders a moment himself]...What I’m interested in is something that’s anti-music of any kind. I’m tired of melody...”
☆ ☆ ☆
Rumors wer6 thick Stateside that the band just wanted to get rid of an increasingly star-struck Malcolm McLaren, and that breaking up was the only way to do it. The circus atmosphere of the U.S. tour had been a sickening hint of things to come, and the boys wanted out.
U.K. contacts believed Johnny, though, and had heard that Johnny would either form a band with ex-New York Doll Jerry Nolan, or...form a reggae band. Strictly non-melodic, of course...
Susan Whitall
