I had to revisit this one, just in the mood for a bit of Anarchy,and a cup of tea. You know, the sort of Anarchy where nothing is actually demolished and no one is actually hurt. sort of; Oh that Malcolm Mc Clarnon, what a character, look at what he did with a series of plans that deconstructed what it means to be a rock and roll performer and sell things, making loads of lovely money thanks to his Maciavellian scheming. I just wanted a reminder and taste of what it was to be an impressionable teenager growing up in the nineteen seventies. As seen through the camera lens of Julian Temple and crew as adapted by Michael Moor cock from the screenplay which surely must have been like trying to distinguish smoke from a heavy London fog.
We, the reader, gets to follow Steve Jones on his hunt for Malcolm Mc Clarnon( although more specifically the money owed to him and his er, crew.) Steve Jones is a much better actor on the page than up on the screen, so to speak. But it was not sort of film anymore than this is that sort of book. Mind you, I do not think Steve Jones ever pretended to be anything more than what he was, what he is. Some times in synch with what people expected him to be but mostly just being Steve Jones in synch with wherever he found himself, not a grown up pretender, or actor. I once heard a radio interview between Steve and Malcolm during g which they openly mocked John Lydon on a really base level, so if nothing else he did catch up with the man he was hunting. Whether he actually ever got the monies owed is another thing all together, and their lawyers off course.
I was prompted to go back and read this error,novel. This novelization of The Great Rock N Roll Swindle, by a rather grueling conversation with someone who was the same age as me around the age I was when the whole punk thing still felt organic, even if it was truly not. Was I as pompous and full of myself as this you g person with all the answers. The film, and therefore the book, was within reach, so I took another look. Was I like that at that age? what did I think I knew? Was it possible to learn anything from this Anarchic piece of celluloid? And why do I keep using a capital A?
Growing up in Ardoyne during the period I did gave me a taste of the real thing. And yet it seemed to me,at the time, more important that someone was singing about it rather than growing up in an area where the real thing raged. Perhaps it was because it was possible to face a sea of troubles while tastefully attired. Being picked on for being an oddball seemed a small price to pay, the notion I could defeat my enemies by being better dressed than them, Vive La Anarchie!
Michael Moorcock took the material to a very meta place indeed. Had to I suppose. Elevating the script to an almost intellectual level where it really had no place going. I could see a desperate dinner table conversation attempting the same thing and in a real sense that is where it belongs. Looking for any sort of answer there is like looking for landmines under a cheese cake. scrambling g for hard earned wisdom in an Eton Mess. It's all sits and giggle, baby.
Or something like that.
