Pitchfork

Concepts and movements can only be fleetingly revolutionary by definition. Ideas may take on societal norms, causing those norms to be questioned and revised, but once so moved, the acceptance of the masses theoretically quells the revolution just as it reaches its penultimate success. In the case of popular music, seemingly radical trends or blips are more likely part of a natural progression upon closer inspection. The emergence of rock n' roll in the fifties, arguably the singular most important cultural explosion of the second half of this century, wasn't an explosion at all. While its unabashed sexuality and previously unheard of blurring of racial barriers helped fuel changes in our society for the next thirty years, the roots of the revolution stretch back to the early years of the century. For all of its brash insurgency, most of rock n' roll's bite can be clearly heard in the country folk blues and bluegrass field hollers that have haunted our culture since its inception.

Similarly, the Sex Pistols hit the late seventies scene like a knock out punch-- shocking the system, appalling conventional wisdom and, most of all, capturing our imagination with their apparently unprecedented anger and ferocity. But in reality, the Pistols only copped the same irreverent stance taken by early rockers like Eddie Cochran, Chuck Berry and fellow Brit, Pete Townshend. They burned out as quickly as they emerged and society recoiled into its cocoon for the next decade. Ardent followers like Frank Black and Bob Mould toiled in virtual anonymity until the whole thing exploded again in the late eighties. This time around, though, the guitars were louder, the riffs nastier and the anger more tangible. Though still raw and powerful, the Sex Pistols records of the late seventies sound exceedingly tame next to the bile and venom of Nirvana's In Utero. With a bit of distance from the epicenter, the revolution can properly be seen and heard as evolution.

The unique success of Pirates of Destiny, yet another collection of Sex Pistols outtakes, interviews and live cuts from the Creativeman label, lies in presenting the Pistols' as such. By laying covers of "Substitute," "Stepping Stone," and "Johnny B. Goode" along side their most vitriolic classics like "No Feelings," "Lazy Sod," and "No Lip," the label manages to accurately paint the band as torch carriers rather than lighters. Additionally, the interviews (particularly Bernard Brook Partridge's anti-punk comments), are more lucidly chosen than those sprinkled throughout this collection's Creativeman companion, We Have Cum For Your Children, setting the tone for the music that follows.

Unfortunately, the Sex Pistols have already told their tale with much greater effect on The Great Rock n' Roll Swindle. Like Children, while certainly preferable over its twin, Pirates of Destiny's purpose is negligible-- documenting only the previously documented while providing no further insight. Certainly, the shockwaves caused by the Pistols reverberated in all facets of our current musical culture and their contributions warrant adequate documentation and analysis. However, Pirates of Destiny ultimately fails to deliver.