Little is known, but many of us ignored the outrageous Britiches and their diaper pins. We duly boycotted the not-so-funny-pistol Sex Pistols. Hence the smiling amazement at the discovery (yes, the discovery, imminent release of the biopic requires) of their twenty essentials, very pleasantly remastered. Crazy how much more rock’n’roll than punk, 46 years later. As much as the Clash, finally. The covers of Something Else and C’mon Everybody (Eddie Cochran), (I’m Not Your) Steppin’Stone (Paul Revere & the Raiders), bear witness to this: the reputation of the album Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols as “Pre-Bible of rock” (controlled designation of the specialized press) takes for its rank. Ante nothing at all. It was the surprisingly faithful sequel to the rockabilly origins, 1960s garage rock, but with a lot more acne. And the arm of honor to His Majesty? Provocation is never anything but respect that stinks, that blasts like a trumpet.
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