Spent the afternoon going down memory lane with the Sex Pistols when I should have been pushing the lawn mower around the yard. Shit happens, I guess... the lawn will still be there tomorrow.
I happened upon that video because it was attached to an email from my dear son Jake. Of all the Juniors, he's the one I worry about the most, mainly because he seems to have inherited his dear Daddy's appetite for excess.
Jake is a brilliant musician, but like most brilliant musicians, he's scratching out a living in the restaurant business. At least he's learning the craft in a top end place.
He's also the kid who "borrowed" my original pressing of the original Sex Pistols album.
The 2008 Sex Pistols reunion concert at Brixton Academy was remarkable for a number of reasons, the main one being that Mr. Rotten and crew are still alive, and still rotten. Without Sid, of course; may he rest in peace.
I especially liked where he called out his audience for being England's working class. All creeds, all races, but singularly working class.
Class solidarity forever!
Where is this happening in American music? Bruce campaigning for Hillsy? Get the fuck outta here!
The Sex Pistols were originally part of the reaction to the Thatcherite destruction of the working class. Great to see that Johnny Rotten is still rocking and Maggie has gone to her reward.
As for Jake, he seems to be doing OK. Tells me he's catching up with some of the music he's missed in the past; Gregorian chant, Rimsky-Korsakov, and Islamic Sufi music.
Don't know how he missed out on the Gregorian chant. I had at least six inches worth in my CD rack. Remember those?
Anyway, it's funny how he managed to "borrow" all my really good stuff but overlooked the Gregorian chant.
But I still worry, as parents do.
I recall busting into the storage locker of a prominent drug dealer with my dear pal Johnny H. Said dealer is long dead so I guess it's OK to tell the tale. Nothing in there except a couple of sheets of blotter acid. We tried a couple of tabs and nothing much happened. So we ate the entire sheets. Took weeks before I could make a sentence again.
That kind of stupidity could kill you today. There is stuff out there that we could not have imagined in my youth. One bad party night with fentanyl and it's all over.
Stay safe, dear son.