“Best of f**king luck with it”
It was that John Lydon quote which drew me to the Sex Pistols Experience poster I was sticking up in a grotty takeaway in the heart of Birmingham. I’ve never seen a tribute band before, but I was intrigued as to what the Sex Pistols Experience would have to offer and with it being held at the venue I work for, I had little excuse not to go and find out for myself.
First up tonight are local band Dogs of War – a hardcore punk band whose frontman, PK is nothing short of psychotic. In fact throughout the whole set he barely spends a few seconds onstage, instead opting to frantically run around the room (occasionally even leaving it) whilst continuing with the vocals. Much to the barstaff’s bewilderment he even manages to energetically clamber over the bar, his Doc Martens just about gripping the slippery surface.
Dogs of War run through an array of songs such as Slags of Worcester but rather disappointingly, there are still a lot of people yet to arrive, and the room seems quite empty. PK doesn’t seem to be bothered by it though, continuing to practically throw himself at the walls of the venue, whilst running circles around the crowd who have bothered to turn up early.
Next up is Ed Tudor Pole. Now I’m just about old enough to remember those Thursday night’s spent watching The Crystal Maze when he presented it, and I can remember liking him purely for his eccentricity, (although being around 5, I didn’t know that was the reason at the time). Although he appears rather ragged and perhaps hasn’t stood the test of time too well, this eccentricity is still present as he embarks the stage tonight in his clichéd Who Killed Bambi shirt and tattered waistcoat.
By now, the room has started to fill, and there’s quite an array of people who have turned up tonight; the expected old punks, old blokes who I can imagine were punks years ago, older women, and most surprisingly a lot of teenagers. I try my hardest to not pass judgement on the latter though, (except for one hipster looking kid who forcefully bumps into me and fails to apologise. I smirk though as he wanders off dripping his pint down his beige chinos).
To be honest, I’ve actually heard quite bad things about Ed’s live performances of late, particularly on YouTube and the videos I’ve watched certainly don’t do him any favours. So I’m not really expecting that much from him, in fact if anything I feel a little awkward for the reception he’s going to get.
Sure enough the hecklers attempt to wind him up with unimaginative taunts of “Crystal Maze” echoing around the centre of the floor, but Ed laughs and takes it on the chin, and seems to win them round after a surprisingly decent acoustic performance of a few of his numbers including Wunderbar and of course Who Killed Bambi?
“I might see you later” he winks before leaving the stage, I think everyone in the room understands what he’s referring to with that statement.
After Ed’s performance I’m met by some bloke with quite awfully dyed red hair, he proceeds to tell me about his love for the Sex Pistols before veering off subject to show me pictures of his “missus and kids” before informing me that when his hair is blond he looks like Keith Lemon. I feign an interest and laugh nervously but he’s harmless enough, and even offers to get me a drink which I gratefully accept after already being down to my last three quid.
The headliners finally stroll on, and sure enough, they certainly look the part in their punk attire, but with the fake, slightly cheesy snarls I’m not quite won over yet. I’m unsure as to how this will go I know there’s a lot of questioning of authenticity, and an awful lot of scepticism as to how you can have a punk tribute band.
But as I start to take it all in, I realise that the atmosphere is the most appealing aspect of the gig. The old punks are gathered in the centre, quite frankly punching the shit out of each other, but they’re having a brilliant time and enjoying themselves and I guess that’s makes it authentic.
The band begin ripping their way through all the expected classics such as No Feelings, Holidays in the Sun, Pretty Vacant, EMI and (one of my personal favourites) Bodies. One of the old punks pipes up and begins shouting incoherently to which the reply from ‘Johnny Rotter’ comes “Yeah well we’re being paid to be cunts, you’re doing it for fucking zilch”. Laughter erupts amongst the crowd of what is now a pretty packed out venue.
Rotter disappears off the stage whilst ‘Kid Vicious’ takes turn with the vocals, performing My Way, Something Else and C’mon Everybody. More of the predicted banter is present from the crowd, “Oi, Sid you’ve put on weight, you fat cunt” being a popular choice for hecklers as it’s shouted several times.
As Kid’s set finishes, Ed returns to the stage to perform the awaited Swords of a Thousand Men. He’s livelier this time with it being a full band, and gives what I think is a much better performance than his acoustic set. He speeds through Who Killed Bambi for a second time, which again sounds better when being performed by an entire band, before leaving the stage to allow Rotter to return.
The crowd welcome back Rotter with more selective swearwords as he asks “who wants to hear the national anthem then?” before launching into God Save the Queen, rapidly succeeded by Anarchy in the UK to bring the gig to its climax.
The band disappear off the stage and crowd soon follow suit, (Keith Lemon guy hugs me as he leaves). By the end of the gig I’m pretty drunk and somehow get handed a couple of what can only be described as a Dame Edna Everage masks that have been kicking around the box office for a while. “C’mon shall we meet Ed?” I’m asked. “Why the fuck not?” comes my response.
* Pictures 1,2 & 3 courtesy Abi Flash
