Volume 3 CD
1992

Public Image Limited

The scene: a north London rehearsal studio. Public Image Limited have just released their latest album That What Is Not the eleventh in a 14 year history. It's a history that's seen them go from being the first great post-punk rock revisionists, to a weird, experimental trio, to a virtual circus act, to a thunderously fine pop group, to a sporadically brilliant sub-metal outfit, to a pop group again and finally... er, John?

"If you want to describe it as anything, then loosely under the generic title 'rock' - whatever that's supposed to be."

That What Is Not is indeed a 'rock' LP - but only in the sense that it's got loads of loud guitars on it, courtesy of PiL's six string slasher for the last half decade, ex-Magazine and Banshees guitarist John McGeoch. The current PiL still take risks, as tracks like the endearingly sour 'Acid Drops' (complete with "No Future" Pistols sample), the harmonica haunted 'Covered' and the hot-wired 'Love Hope' prove only too well. The material is far from conventional but, countless major atmospheric variations aside, it fits unexpectedly neatly alongside the band's last two heavily guitar based albums, 1987's Happy? and 1989's 9. Founder member John Lydon, 36, has discovered a style that he likes and, for now at least, he's happy working within its agreeably fluid framework.

"Every record we approach things differently, to use as many formats as possible, and to not be frightened by it. But not like the tightness of the rock thing, I like well structured songs. I Like working within that framework. It's amazing how it can give you so much freedom, those four little walls of a rhythm, what you can do with them - rather than like 'Metal Box', which was just a great sprawl in many different directions at the same time. It led to a lot of confusion."

The rest of PiL - McGeoch and Dias, along with the additional musicians for this tour, multi-instrumentalist Ted Chau and ex-Smiths/Buzzcocks drummer Mike Joyce - are waiting in another room while the singer does the talking. Lydon is keen to make the point that PiL are now more of a band than the original line up, which featured the disparate talents of guitarist Keith Levene, Jim 'Donut' Walker on drums and brooding pop sensation Jah Wobble on rumbling bass. Today's PiL has already been together longer than PiL Mk I - so what's the secret of this unexpected longevity?

"We're a solid working unit now," says Lydon. "And I think that shows in the work. It's the strongest we've ever been. When PiL first started it really was a very volatile kettle of piranhas - we were constantly at war with each other. It was a lot of ego problems, and a lot of jealousies. These things you expect when you work with other human beings. This is what happens. I suppose it's still there to a greater or lesser extent, it's just that we've all matured as human beings and we're able to cope with these things now, whereas all of us, with all the bands we've worked in in the past, I suppose 'cos we were younger, we'd just lost our tempers. Yes (in posh voice), like a fine wine we've matured with age."
Are you actually mates?

"No that'd be hell. We're all very different. We have very different social lives, very different musical interests, and that's what makes it work. And when we do get together, it's always interesting. Sounds lovely, doesn't it? Perfect marriage - keep away from each other as much as possible!"

In July 1983, between '81's disturbing and controversial The Flowers of Romance and 84's almost totally dismal This Is What You Want... This Is What You Get, PiL became John Lydon and John Lydon became PiL. The 'Visual Assistant', Jeannette Lee, had left yonks earlier, and now the last surviving original conspirator, Keith Levene, had buggered off too. Nobody else was left.

Surprisingly unperturbed. Lydon embarked on a string of projects that varied from the appallingly tacky '83 tour, with its cheesy session musicians and Johnny Rotten's Greatest Hits set lists (Lydon had previously vowed never again to play a Pistols song), to '86's brilliant Album, a record that reaffirmed the singer's ability to dabble in all kinds of sounds and earned him a number eleven hit single with the hugely infectious 'Rise'. Throughout this period, until the consolidation of the current line up in '88, Lydon functioned by hiring musicians for vinyl and live work (F&F note: Actually, McGeoch and Dias were in the 1986 tour line up along with Lu Edmonds and Bruce Smith, who were also very much part of the band until they left in 1989 and 1991 respectively) - a situation Lydon hated because, "There's no give and take in that. It's just me giving orders and them receiving them. There was no feedback. If I had a crap idea, the crap idea would go on to vinyl almost directly! Working with a band, that doesn't happen now. Now there's people that will stand up and say, Fucking shut up, that's awful! It's important."

Does that really happen?

"Yes, of course. And the same with me and them. That's what makes it a working unit. This is not an egotistical mind game for me. I'm part of a group."
But isn't it still very much your group? Lydon suddenly becomes bashful: "Well, I suppose it is, one way or another. I mean, I'm not gonna concede everything in my life! My own creation... (he chuckles at his old lyric). It's my baby, lets put it that way."

Could your ego have got out of hand without others to call your ideas crap? "Well, of course. That's the very nature of this industry. It does turn you into that, because there are so many sycophantic grovellers around (he whispers to avoid a nearby Virgin press officer overhearing) - a lot of them work for record companies - who will tell you whatever they think you want to hear, and never the truth. And that can play tricks with ya, inside your head, and you can end up believing it."

Aren't people scared of your reaction? Isn't that why they tell you what they think you want to hear?

"Hmm, yeah, but experience has stopped that. I mean, I'm now told exactly what I don't wanna hear, practically on a daily basis!".

Are you compelled to be obnoxious to fit in with people's expectations?
"No, I'm not compelled - but I can be obnoxious."
I'm thinking of your first Word appearance (on which, following some provocative questions from Terry 'Is poonk dead?' Christian, Lydon unleashed a torrent of wonderfully fruity four-letter abuse that had the panicking presenter fumbling with his suddenly red hot earpiece).
"Yeah, well, I wasn't obnoxious then. I thought it was amusing. I just wanted to play with it, because I thought the whole format of it was so hokey, and so tedious that y'know, it is TV after all. It's there to entertain, so I play with it, which I did."
Oddly enough, John claims he was later asked to host an edition of The Word (although this could be another of his "good lies"). He did reappear - and claims that, after the first incident, the show's ratings went up. Do you enjoy that kind of confrontation?
"Sometimes, yeah. It can be amusing you know? That's what I think TV is for - confrontation. And it's highly enjoyable. You Have to keep your wits about you, that's all. I like that, I like the stress value of it too, cos it plays hell on my nerves! It's almost like I have to pat myself on the back for surviving another one."
But you always seem to be having a great time.
"Yeah, but it's knife edge stuff. It can go either way."

Nowadays Lydon, along with his wife Nora (mother of former 'Slit' Ari Up), spends much of his time in the US, where PiL are considered 'underground' - but only for as long as his holiday visas will allow him. When he's not at his LA home, John resides in Fulham, south-west London, where he lives with Nora, a TV set, a hi-fi, loads of books and a heap of painting materials. Back in 1977, when the Sex Pistols released 'God Save The Queen' at the height of her majesty's Silver Jubilee celebrations, John was almost literally public enemy number one. He suffered several physical attacks at the hands of tabloid-blinded patriots, including one which ended in a razor slash across the face. Is it still difficult to walk the streets of London?
"No no, it's fine. Respect is the most common thing, which is pleasant. It's taken a long time. There's the occasional yobbo and 20 of his mates who wanna prove a point. That happens no matter what you are."
Do you get yelled at from building sites?
"Yeah, but they shout at everyone. The poor bastards are bored outta their brains. It's a mindless job, good luck to 'em, I say. Anything to relieve the monotony. After all, I am here to entertain."

Does London still seem like home?
"I've never felt that. I'm not that kind of person, there's too much gypsy in me. I like to travel and I like to move about. I get very bored if I'm somewhere for too long."
Are there places in London you get nostalgic or sentimental about?
"No, it used to be Arsenal but they fucked up, so they can fuck off!"
Can music affect you deeply, trigger off certain memories?
"Well, occasionally I can pull out the odd old Alice Cooper record and revel in it, and remember what good days they were, and how hilarious the whole thing all was. That's the thing about music. It is timeless. Some records date, but that's not a bad thing. It's a bad thing if you try to imitate that. This is the 90's, not the mid-70's. Don't be looking back. That's why I don't like all these punk band out at the moment."

What do you think of the Manic Street Preachers?
"I've not seen them."
They're quite amusing.
"Well, if there's a sense of humour in it, then that's fine (there's not though - Ed). But if it's deadpan, humourless imitation, then there's no point to it."
A lot of people have been wound up in a big way by them.
"Oh well, so long as they're annoying people that's very good. Then I salute them. People can actually learn lots by being annoyed. I know, because I've got the most irritating voice in the world (hoots of laughter), which I use to great effect, occasionally."

A recent Rolling Stone review drew parallels between That What Is Not and, of all things, tedious late 60's art-rock outfit Van Der Graaf Generator. It's a comparison that has Lydon slapping his thigh in mirth.
"It puzzles me what some reviewers have for ears," he says gleefully. "But if you put together all these reviews, and you read it, it's hilarious what you can come up with. God knows what else is gonna be thrown in. The kitchen sink, eventually. Why do these people need to say, That sounds like..., in order to describe it? Why can't you describe it accurately? Is there such a shortage of vocabulary in the English language? I don't think so."

Do Americans understand you better than the British?
"Possibly so. They're not as bogged down in the past as they are here. There's a great many people out there who don't know anything at all about my past, and they're not very interested. It's now that they want me, and by God, I'll give them me in large amounts."
Do you like the way Americans see you as underground?
"Yes, it's fine. I could never join the mainstream, it's not my style. The Clash became mainstream there, which was a very, very, sad thing. It's like, I can do stadiums there and still keep my integrity about me. It's not perceived as a sell-out, and probably because of the way I approach it, and what I do with it - I play up the event, and make it entertaining. And again that's a knife edge thing too, and I enjoy that. I like the risk factor. If you're not supposed to do something, fucking well do it."

Talking of Americans, John recently saw a video of Motley Crue playing 'Anarchy in the UK' at Donington.

"I thought it was hilarious. In fact, I knew they were gonna do it, because they rang me up. They wanted the lyrics so I gave 'em to them. I thought, yipee, what fun! They put it on their 'Decade of Decadence' album. Lovely, that's money in the bank for me."
Megadeth also did 'Anarchy'.
"Yes, they did, and their version was hideous. That was the one with Steve Jones guesting on guitar, and it was horrible!"
Americans always get that sort of thing slightly wrong.
"I thought Steve got it slightly wrong too! he guffaws. "You don't guest on versions of your own songs, it's a kind of crappy thing to do."

John doesn't go out much when he's in LA.

"All that I really do is watch TV. It's difficult going out, because there's just nowhere to go, and when you do you just get pestered by morons. If I go see live bands, I'm just followed around the club or whatever, and it's really annoying, and then you're sort of forced into this backstage scene, because it's the only way to get any peace. And then you find that you're amongst all the liggers, and the pretentious lot, and that's dreadful, so I'd rather not go. I'd rather not deal with it."

But Lydon has plenty of time for his leisure activities, preferring to balance business and pleasure by not rushing anything work-related (F&F: no kidding!). Hence the three year gap between the last LP and the new one.
"Everything is... almost ponderous. I always check things out. I like to think that I dive in at the deep end, but I definitely check the water temperature first. There's always that bit in reserve."
Do you ever feel old, or older than you used to?
"Well, I thought I was gonna die when I hit 21, I thought that was the end of my life. It wasn't, and neither was 22, ad infinitum. It just doesn't work like that. I cried on my thirtieth birthday, I mean real wads of tears, but you just realise that you're as stupid now as you were at 18, all that's changed is that you've learnt a lot more. Of course mirrors can incredibly unkind."
Are you scared of the inevitability of the ageing process - stuff like going bald?
"That's the whole 'youth culture' nonsense, which is meant to make you feel guilty for ageing! I say BOLLOCKS! I hope I don't die and definitely get old. Very old. For as long as possible."
What bands are you listening to at the moment?
"Well, I don't think you can knock KLF, can ya? Their singles are really special, annoyingly so. They have fun with it. There's a few things that I like, I love Nirvana too. I think they're number one now in the states. Wow! It's amazing, 'cos it's not a very good album. I like the single most. The lyrics are particularly excellent, I think - 'Entertain me'..., that absolutely sums up lazy audiences."

The pop charts, both here and in the US, are definitely opening up to..
"To rock. It's coming around again. I think people are bored with listening to machines."
Do chart placings matter to you?
"No, they never have, they never will. Chart placings only matter to ego-maniacs who want to win awards for some ridiculous reason. I've never bothered with any of that. Airplay's never been a problem either, we just don't get any!"
John creases up at this one, his pint mug of tea splashing everywhere.

Bearing in mind the physical attacks he was subjected to in 1977, it's no surprise that violence and hate top the list of things that John Lydon finds frightening:
"I have very little tolerance for it," he says, "or any kind of prejudice. It got quite nasty with PiL for a bit. The last time I toured England I had a billiard ball thrown at me, in Stoke. I was none too pleased with that, 'cos that's out and out... death, really. It hit me right on the skull, so fuck that for a game of soldiers. That kind of vicious hate is unexplainable to me - that people will pay money to go in and see me, and aim to hurt me seriously. That's kind of pathetic on their parts."

Contrary to popular opinion, the teenage Lydon was never a skinhead.
"Nah, I always a long hair then. I was always much more into Hawkwind than reggae. I liked some of the clothes, but I could never have a crop, because I've got big ears, and I look stupid. I'd look like a jug!"
For the last 15 minutes Lydon and Dias have been jumping twisting and turning and generally being perfect subjects for Steve Gullick's camera. Lydon throws himself into the session wholeheartedly.
"Far too many of these pop stars take themselves too seriously," he grumbles. "They need reams of make up ladies and stuff before they'd go anywhere near a camera. I think it's all bollocks."

You've always seemed quite proud of your spots.
"Well, they're there. They're a feature. Enjoy."
Have you ever been tempted to join the showbiz set? You know, Clapton, Collins, Jagger...
"No, no, it isn't possible," he says, for once genuinely appalled. "I wouldn't tolerate, and they certainly wouldn't tolerate me."
Have you got any music biz pals?
"Very few. I don't see any reason to have any. I mean , if I was a plumber, I wouldn't go out looking for plumbers. It'd be very tedious. And that's kind of precious, too, isn't it? They all hang around certain wine bars, or clubs, and those places I avoid, because I just don't see any entertainment in it."

How do you find musicians as a rule?
"Bloody boring! They're always performing, they don't relax, there's no fairness in them."
Does that come with success?
"Yeah, chart positions can do amazing things to people. It can make them incredibly conceited. Overnight."

Can money have the same effect?
"Definitely. Money is incredibly corrupting. I know that as a fact, because there are very many people I know that have made a great deal of money, and they've become absolute shits because of it. And the music industry itself does tend to judge... each other, according to record sales, or things like that, and that is very unfortunate. You know, (mock triumphantly) join the two million sales set!"

John Lydon contemptuously blows snot into a spoon and flicks it across the room. Does all this corruption stuff make him wary of having a hit?
"Well, I wouldn't say no," he chuckles. "It doesn't happen like that with us. We're not that kind of crappy teen band thing, where people will rush off and buy the album in the first ten minutes. We'll never be like that. Never was, never will be. Never should be."