Malcolm McLaren died yesterday aged just 64. McLaren is accredited as being the driving force behind the emergence of Punk music and fashion in the 1970s. He also had a hand in introducing hip hop to these shores. I loved punk, in a light touch way. Never one to fully embrace any movement I was a 'Punk Lite' wearing safety pins in my ears, buying some clothes in the Kings Road (not SEX...much too expensive) and waiting in line for The Tubes to sign my 12 inch copy of 'White Punks On Dope'. I loved the Sex Pistols but hated Johnny Rotten. I have a 'mismemory' that it was Rotten who got into an argument with Bill Grundy, the presenter of a magazine type programme in which Grundy was accused of being a 'dirty old man' after flirting with the young punkete Siouxsie Sioux. But it was Steve Jones, another member of the band. The following conversation ensued:
Jones: You dirty sod. You dirty old man.
Grundy: Well keep going chief, keep going. Go on. You've got another five seconds. Say something outrageous.
Jones: You dirty bastard.
Grundy: Go on, again.
Jones: You dirty fucker.
Grundy: What a clever boy.
Jones: What a fucking rotter.
This caused a huge uproar, similar to the Ross/Brandgate incident. Complaints poured in by the thousands and many column inches were written in the tabloids about the scum youth of the day. However, unlike the outcome for poor Ross and Brand, and Grundy, whose career never really recovered, the publicity worked well for the Pistols. The nail in their coffin was the murder of one of their girlfriends. Sid Vicious allegedly murdered his girlfriend, Nancy Spungen, in an hotel room and he died shortly afterwards from a heroin overdose.
Now, I am not advocating that musicians swear on teatime telly or murder their girlfriends or go around ODing but....why are musicians these days so fucking boring???? The UK charts in 2010 are full of cute little boys like Justin Bieber, sweet blonde's like Pixie Lott and Boyzone....yes, you heard me right Boyzone. JLS, nice boys - you could take any one of them home to meet mum, but...Yawn. I blame Simon Cowell.
The 1960s was the time when the music volcano erupted and spilled out bubbling, hot talent which swept away blandness and mediocracy from the UK music chart and spread its magic far and wide. Young people were set on fire by what they heard and a whole generation changed what they wore, where they went, how they danced, what some of them wanted to do for a living and for others, how they thought about the world. The volcano continued to emit small balls of flame throughout the 70s but it has lain dormant for several decades.
It is always sad when a music lover dies. I wonder what music McLaren will have at his funeral.
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