This is the part where I should tell you about a one-album crash-and-burn wonder that shocked and changed the world. But you already know the story-- pop music meets political dissent meets counter-culture zeitgeist meets an ossified establishment meets two fingers in the air. Many a sentence could be spent recounting any number of publicity stunts or anecdotes that flower throughout the Sex Pistols' history and, of course, when telling their story special attention must be paid to Malcolm McLaren, the shameless svengali who used these loitering ruffians as clothes horses for his bondage-trouser boutique while dreaming of champagne, caviar, and chart-topping riches. The importance of the Sex Pistols-- as a symbol, as a lightning rod, as a flashpoint-- cannot be overstated. It transcends the songs they performed, the genre they epitomized, the lifestyle they sold to an entire generation. But, of course, there's still the music to consider.
Even if the actual quality of the tracks comprising Never Mind the Bollocks has been subsumed by its overwhelming importance as the Rosetta Stone for the safety-pin set, that certain something is still there when the record's actually played. It's there in Johnny Rotten's voice, as incisive and invictive a weapon as anything that's come in front of a microphone. It's there in Steve Jones' one-trick guitar moves. It's there when Paul Cook bangs on his cymbals. It's even there when you imagine Sid Vicious standing to Rotten's right on stage, lip upturned slightly like a young Elvis, an audience member's spit rolling down his cheek like a defiant tear, looking like a proper punk rock bass player (even if his chops didn't match his pose, and even if original bassist Glen Matlock is actually the guy in the studio making the magic happen). Where it's not, however, is in the plethora of posthumous releases-- compilations, demos, live recordings-- foisted upon folks ever since the Pistols walked off the stage at Winterland. Rotten's famous last words at that concert certainly ring in the ears of consumers that find themselves listening to yet another shitty version of “Satellite”.
Of all those extraneous releases, Spunk was there first. First issued (surreptitiously, of course) in the months before Bollocks hit record stores, this bootleg was comprised of demos from recording sessions with producer Dave Goodman mostly made before the release of the Pistols' debut. The version that Castle Records sees fit to legitimately release 30 years later is a variant that was once called No Future UK?-- in addition to the 12 Goodman sessions, there are three more demos also dating from 1976. The most notable thing about those three bonus tracks (versions of “Anarchy in the UK”, “Pretty Vacant”, and “No Fun”) is that they illustrate how fine a line there is between good Sex Pistols and crappy Buzzcocks. “Pretty Vacant” in particular, with the echo on Rotten's vocals and the turgid pace of the performance, sounds an awful lot like the Shelley-Diggle Experience after one too many huffs of glue.
