Mild thing Ex-Sex Pistol Glen Matlock says something should be done about all the swearing on TV. But is this a sign of rebellious rockers becoming dull, asks Paul Morley, or that dull people are ripping off rebellion? Paul Morley Wednesday March 02 2005 The Guardian
This Sunday, Glen Matlock will be caught complaining on Channel 4's X Rated - the TV They Tried to Ban that there is too much swearing on television. Now 48, easily described in columns like this as a respectable family man (as if old punks were not destined to breed and develop conventional parental anxieties), he claims that the repeated use of the f-word is pathetic. "Something ought to be done about the swearing," he rants in a way he never actually ranted back in the days when for a short while he badly played the part of a bad boy. He appears to be so angry with all the swearing it's difficult to understand how he doesn't end up swearing. Maybe he did swear and it was cut out, which would be ironic considering that he was cut out of the Sex Pistols. Matlock was the cuddly Sex Pistol who quickly became the sad ex-Pistol. He allegedly had a soft spot for the Beatles, who represented everything about British history and pop culture that McLaren's gang were intent on rubbing out. This was a punk crime. He had to be replaced. He spoiled the rebellious lines of the Pistols with his cheeky look and his pop posing, and the punk kid who replaced him, Sid Vicious, was the perfect-looking outlaw. Sid played the bass with all the love and care of someone who couldn't actually play the bass, whereas Matlock played the bass like someone who knew how to play the bass parts to all the Bowie songs. Matlock was too dreamy looking. Sid stumbled out of a nightmare, the nightmare of all right-thinking people who were appalled when the Pistols actually made their mighty leap from the cult pages of the NME to the front pages of the tabloids because they swore on tea-time television. Clearly, Matlock has decided that as a musician, as an entertainer, he is going to grow old gracefully, even if this means spending most of his time as an unknown. He will not be an expletive-packing Pistol cursing freely into his 50s and 60s, committed to the cause of perpetuating a wild image even as the wrinkles deepen, the flesh softens and the desire crumples. Gene Simmons of Kiss, Alice Cooper, indeed Lemmy are not the right role models for Matlock as he approaches 50, which even if it is the new 40 is not really close enough to the magic years of the 20s where in the old-fashioned sense you can, in a dignified way, wreck yourself, and possibly elements of surrounding civilisation. He has concluded that once you hit a certain age, probably somewhere between 30 and 45, it is best to act your age, or at least act like his parents did when they were the age he is now. He is no doubt dismayed by the sight of his old colleague Johnny Rotten spitting out the C-word on I'm a Celebrity with the relish of someone who still believes it counts. He'll be deeply saddened by Ozzy mostly speaking in curses, often in front of his children, as if this alone reminds people that he is outrageous and some kind of hero. Some rock stars grow old professionally maintaining their original wildness - Iggy Pop - and others grow old by establishing themselves as disciplined professionals who leave the carousing, hopefully, to the youngsters - Phil Collins, but then he is bald, and does not look as good in see-through plastic trousers as Iggy. Matlock may cast an approving eye on Rod Stewart's carefully organised post-lad playboy image and his mature move into suits and gentle old songs. He no doubt greatly respects the new breed of soppy rockers such as Keane, who play music and accept awards as if their role models are The Bee Gees and The Osmonds. Some of us might hope that the likes of Keane crack a little and reveal themselves to be, loosely speaking, rock'n'roll, a little human, by swearing. Sometimes, swearing is just a very natural, even electric way of demonstrating a kind of honesty. Even Paul McCartney slips now and then and uses language once associated with 20-year-old punks, and somehow when Bono swears in front of millions at some American award show it suggests he hasn't been completely controlled by commercial interests into behaving like a bland, moronic good boy. There are those who might think it the job of rock stars and pop personalities to exploit their moment on live television by making a raucous nuisance of themselves, and that there isn't actually enough swearing on television, at least not the kind that suggests intellectual and emotional opposition to the ordinary and the everyday. The childish glory of Jerry Springer, the Opera is a rare thing, and used in such a place, as with South Park, simply shows that swearing, and lots of it, can be very funny and liberating, and occasionally, vaguely dangerous with some sort of sly subversive resonance. There's a time and a place, but the recent Brit Awards could have done with just a small provocative sign of wayward life, and often, under the circumstances, a fair way of symbolising that is with a bit of unruly language. Then again, those of us who are watching rich celeb chef Jamie Oliver swear his way through his school dinners show actually might agree with Matlock that there really is too much swearing on television. Middle-of-the-road TV programming freely tosses in the obscenities to suggest there is grit and realism where really there is just frantic emptiness. Matlock might actually be anxious that the swearing is in the wrong mouths, that dull people are exploiting mock controversy as an easy route to commercial attention and that as an ex-Pistol who witnessed the Grundy incident he's responsible for that, and embarrassed by it. The four-letter shower should be coming out the mouths of provocateurs on some sort of crusade to radically reconfigure the cultural landscape, not chefs looking to sell their chunky books. He's concerned about his children, aged seven and 11, hearing all this swearing, and there truly is something wrong about watching Jamie hyperactively handle food and then swear for the sheer stupid hell of it, or Gordon Ramsay doing the same because some ex-soap star has spoiled the sauce. Perhaps by acting against assumed punk-rock type, Matlock is actually expressing some level of rebelliousness. Maybe he's turned from pleasant young musician trapped for a moment in the wrong group into grumpy old man irritated that he keeps being asked about swearing rather than music. The trouble is, it confirms his position as the boring one, the nice punk, and really we don't want our ageing rock stars to side with the ghost of Mary Whitehouse, as if they are confessing some kind of guilt about their past. We want them to show us that their minds are still open, and vivid, and challenging. Even if they do have children. -------------------------------------------------------------- Please Note: Due to Florida's very broad public records law, most written communications to or from College employees regarding College business are public records, available to the public and media upon request. Therefore, this e-mail communication may be subject to public disclosure.
