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Review by Warro.

Older, wiser, fatter, love Gazza, still good.

The Sex Pistols are just one of those bands I thought I'd never get to see so when, a few months ago, it was announced they were playing the Birmingham Academy as a warm up for their Isle of Wight Festival appearance, I was straight on that mouse and felt very lucky that I'd been able to secure a couple of (very expensive) tickets.

As is usually the case with these sorts of bands, still doing the rounds when, perhaps, they oughtn't, I was almost as curious about the audience. I was expecting a plethora of gnarly older blokes. It was pretty much what was expected – a couple of dads and lads which was nice – but it was one of those crowds where the old adage of ‘once a ted, always a ted' comes into play. Real punks have a certain look in their eye - no matter their appearance – a look born of that combination of adhesives, speed and cheap alcohol. Pleasing to see some of those piercing mad starey eyes still in evidence. They may not have the Mohawks, ripped t-shirts or the tartan trousers (although there were a couple), but the ethos is alive and well. In these safe and dumbed down times in which we live, this can only be seen as a good thing.

With no support band in tow, we were warmed up by copious punk anthems played through the PA – a quality bit of nostalgia and interesting that the songs that received the best reaction were Sham 69s ‘If the Kids are United', ‘London Calling' by The Clash and ‘Ace of Spades' – not quite punk, but Motorhead always had a big crossover appeal.

So at nine prompt, the band took to the stage to the tune of ‘There'll Always be and England' – appropriate as the Sex Pistols arguably are the quintessential English band – and started with ‘Pretty Vacant' – a rather slow version, and to be honest a bit ropey. The ropey theme continued through the early part of the set as the band struggled to find its feet. Perhaps wisely, they played some of the lesser known songs mixed with classics such as ‘Liar' early on whilst they got to grips with playing live again.

As you can imagine, the banter was excellent. John Lydon is truly a national treasure – no notice of the gobbing or pint glass that landed directly on his forehead – responding to taunts of ‘you fat bastard' he swiped that we shouldn't say things like that about Gazza as he was "one of us except when he played for Tottenham when he was a fucking cunt”. Arsenal fan then John?

It wasn't until ‘Holidays in the Sun' and ‘Stepping Stone' when things really clicked into gear and the band tightened up, and oooh, you could tell the difference. There was more power, urgency and well,.. relevance. It sounded like it ought to sound and the crowd responded accordingly. During ‘Bodies', Steve Jones snapped a string on his guitar – like it made any fuckin' difference. (Steve Jones has a huge derby, and looks like a brickie)

The main set finished after 55 sweaty minutes but the band returned for a couple of encores. Somehow, over 30 years after it was released ‘God Save the Queen' seems more relevant now than it ever did – there is no future and England is indeed dreaming. It was also good to see that Johnny boy still sneeringly spits the words to ‘Anarchy in the UK' with his vitriolic venom. He still means it – he should do – he's a punk and we should be proud. Finishing after 80 minutes (not bad for a band with only one real album), we were left with ‘The White Cliffs of Dover'; an important and poignant reminder of Britain's proud and illustrious history – just like the Sex Pistols themselves.

In conclusion, this was a warm up show for the Isle of Wight Festival – they needed it – they were a little rusty. In many respect, the Sex Pistols Experience probably do a better job of it. However, this was no tribute band – this was the fuckin' Sex Pistols. Fair makes you proud to be British.

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