DAY OF THE LOCUST
PIL Get bottled off in New York
The Ritz, New York
May 15th 1981
Story by Tim Somner
Pix By Laura Levine
(Sounds May 30th 1981)
PIL Get bottled off in New York
The Ritz, New York
May 15th 1981
Story by Tim Somner
Pix By Laura Levine
(Sounds May 30th 1981)
turntable, which P.I.L. then lip-synched their way through. The
audience seemed to quite like this, actually.
When that was done, things stopped being even vaguely musical
and became a sort of pantomime absurdity, accompanied by the
live video, which took on the character of embarrassing but
amusing home movies.
They danced, they mugged, they laughed, they chatted, they
made various noises, but they remained firmly unmusical and
definitely out of the sight ranges of most of the crowd.
The audience was getting a bit restless, an occasional beer bottle would sail through the air and hit the screen, but at this point it
was still more or less amusinq. Entertainment.
At about 1:40, much to our surprise, P.I.L. gave us an actual song about two-thirds of 'Four Enclosed Walls', from the new album,
Keith having temporarily relieved Sammy on drums and John singing. But that over with, the experimental stuff continued, and
some of it was really pretty good - though they never quite got the audio/sound part of it together, visually it became quite
curious, and often even well-done and alluring.
It was at about 1:40 - 25 minutes into the peformance , - that the bottles and the catcalls started in earnest, the first sign of real
and dangerous hostility, the first realization by the audience that P.I.L. had no intention of raising the screen and playing a
normal set.
Keith and John responded by hanging together over a mike and taunting the audience with "Oh, Booo, Booo, Hiss, Booo, they're
cheating us, oh Booo, hiss, we're being cheated."
This, of course, was akin to teasing a soon-to-be-rabid dog. Things became a bit more frightening and John monotoned into the
mike, "It's so nice to be here in your wonderful city."
For whatever motive, Keith then sat down at the drums again and he and John ran through a fairly straightÂforward verse of
'Banging The Door', followed by John's "Did You like that? Is that what you want?" and the resumption of the chaos.
This is when things really began to fall to pieces.
THE SHOW degenerated into Keith and John teasing and baiting the audience from behind the safety of the screen, and the
audience responding in kind.
"Aren't you getting your money's worth?" John taunted. "Isn't this what rock'n'roll is all about, maaan?"
At this point there was no turning back. A fuse had been lit, and it was only a matter of time before it blew, and John and Keith's
behaviour certainly wasn't helping things.
There was now a steady stream of bottles flailing against the screen, many missing and zonking people in the front, the rest just
bouncing off the screen and smashing in the faces of the people in the first few rows.
Keith was also starting to get genuinely angry, though John's grin and sarcasm held into the end.
If you destroy that screen, you're going to be destroyed," Keith grimly deadpanned, without a trace of humor. "We have the
power to destroy you - all of you."
"You're not throwing enough bottles!" John shouted over Keith's shoulder. "Throw more bottles!"
At 1:50, a chair was heaved from the balcony, hitting the screen dead center and smashing down on the stage. This was the
signal for the true riot to begin.
Suddenly, Keith darted out from behind the screen, a truly possessed and angry look on his face. Who knows why he decided to
appear - he looked set to kill. He made it about ten feet out from the wings when a bottle swiped him on the forehead and a
bouncer grabbed Levene and tossed him back behind the screen, quite literally saving his life.
The audience - now a mob - surged towards the stage, lunging for the screen and the white tarp that all the equipment and lights
sat on. In one swift and terrifying motion, all of P.I.L's lights and equipment went sliding into the audience, (bouncers risking their
lives to save what they could), the battered screen flew up (apparently a move directed from the video booth), and everyone and
everything went quite insanely and horrifyingly beserk . . .
All the while, Lydon's taunting continues, he sings "New York New York, a helluva town . . .", and when he sees the video screen
going up, his floor sliding out from under him, and he realizes he's seconds away from certain injury, he quickly barks "This is the
end of the show" into the mike, and dashes off up the stairs and into the dressing room, where Jeanette and Keith have already
fled.
From then it's a blurred, two-minute flurry of fighting, bouncers
attacking and being attacked, the mob grabbing for anything and
everything they could, and that pervasive feeling of danger and
threat becoming real. For about two-and-a-half minutes when
things really went wild, you weren't sure if you were going to get
out alive, if P.I.L. had gotten out alive, if thirty or forty people were
going to die . . . it's the sort of feeling you get when you think the
elevator is going to fall, when you realize that you're likely to get
the shit beaten out of you with nowhere to run.
This was terror, pure terror, brought on and nurtured knowingly by
P.I.L., and even when the smoke cleared and it looked like
everything was going to be allright and there hadn't been too
many serious injuries, that didn't really make it any better; it
could've just as easily gone the other way.
Up in the dressing room, John and Keith snorted coke and
chatted with the injured who had been brought up there. They had performed, they had gotten a reaction, whether this was the
reaction that was desired or expected is known only to them.
The show the next night was cancelled; P.I.L. had wanted to do it, but the Ritz just couldn't take the risk.
AT THE risk of sounding scholarly, they're certain things about the show that really should be recapped and restated:
1) There truly were some moments when the combination of sound, video, shadow, and chance were very effective.
2) Beyond a certain point, the riot became a certainty, and P.I.L. did nothing to forestall or divert this, and indeed they went out of
their way to encourage it.
3) After a certain point, if John, Keith, or Jeanette had shown their faces in front of the screen, they - without exaggeration -
would've been seriously injured, perhaps killed. This was scary, particularly the image of frail little Jeanette being ripped to pieces
by the angry mob.
4) The fact that no one was killed or seriously injured, or the fact that the riot really didn't blow, was pure luck. It just as easily
couldn've gone the other way.
5) There was no excuse for P.I.L. or the Ritz to have not gone out of their way to warn the audience that this was not going to be
a gig, but a video and noise presentation. That this was not done was a major show of gross negligence on the Ritz's part and
gross arrogance on P.I.L.'s part.
Rock had stopped being theatre, had become a real threat on our lives and the performers' lives. And not unintentionally; this
was part of the performance. It's like the finale of Nathanael West's Day of the Locust when Hollywood goes beserk, and all the
anger pent up from living and watching a fantasy explodes into real anger and violence; the act becomes real.
In a way, it achieved what the Sex Pistols always said they wanted to achieve - the destruction of rock'n'roll, the rape of rock'n'roll.
I'll never be able to see another show without being very aware of it as being fantasy and theatre - the reality and genuine threat
of the P.I.L. show spoiled that game for me.
Near the front of the mob, just as things started getting out of control, some kid said (quite seriously) "I wish I hadda gun. I'd just
blow him (Lydon) away, Bang Bang, and I'd be famous just like those other guys. Bang Bang!"
This time no one had a gun.
THE END.
audience seemed to quite like this, actually.
When that was done, things stopped being even vaguely musical
and became a sort of pantomime absurdity, accompanied by the
live video, which took on the character of embarrassing but
amusing home movies.
They danced, they mugged, they laughed, they chatted, they
made various noises, but they remained firmly unmusical and
definitely out of the sight ranges of most of the crowd.
The audience was getting a bit restless, an occasional beer bottle would sail through the air and hit the screen, but at this point it
was still more or less amusinq. Entertainment.
At about 1:40, much to our surprise, P.I.L. gave us an actual song about two-thirds of 'Four Enclosed Walls', from the new album,
Keith having temporarily relieved Sammy on drums and John singing. But that over with, the experimental stuff continued, and
some of it was really pretty good - though they never quite got the audio/sound part of it together, visually it became quite
curious, and often even well-done and alluring.
It was at about 1:40 - 25 minutes into the peformance , - that the bottles and the catcalls started in earnest, the first sign of real
and dangerous hostility, the first realization by the audience that P.I.L. had no intention of raising the screen and playing a
normal set.
Keith and John responded by hanging together over a mike and taunting the audience with "Oh, Booo, Booo, Hiss, Booo, they're
cheating us, oh Booo, hiss, we're being cheated."
This, of course, was akin to teasing a soon-to-be-rabid dog. Things became a bit more frightening and John monotoned into the
mike, "It's so nice to be here in your wonderful city."
For whatever motive, Keith then sat down at the drums again and he and John ran through a fairly straightÂforward verse of
'Banging The Door', followed by John's "Did You like that? Is that what you want?" and the resumption of the chaos.
This is when things really began to fall to pieces.
THE SHOW degenerated into Keith and John teasing and baiting the audience from behind the safety of the screen, and the
audience responding in kind.
"Aren't you getting your money's worth?" John taunted. "Isn't this what rock'n'roll is all about, maaan?"
At this point there was no turning back. A fuse had been lit, and it was only a matter of time before it blew, and John and Keith's
behaviour certainly wasn't helping things.
There was now a steady stream of bottles flailing against the screen, many missing and zonking people in the front, the rest just
bouncing off the screen and smashing in the faces of the people in the first few rows.
Keith was also starting to get genuinely angry, though John's grin and sarcasm held into the end.
If you destroy that screen, you're going to be destroyed," Keith grimly deadpanned, without a trace of humor. "We have the
power to destroy you - all of you."
"You're not throwing enough bottles!" John shouted over Keith's shoulder. "Throw more bottles!"
At 1:50, a chair was heaved from the balcony, hitting the screen dead center and smashing down on the stage. This was the
signal for the true riot to begin.
Suddenly, Keith darted out from behind the screen, a truly possessed and angry look on his face. Who knows why he decided to
appear - he looked set to kill. He made it about ten feet out from the wings when a bottle swiped him on the forehead and a
bouncer grabbed Levene and tossed him back behind the screen, quite literally saving his life.
The audience - now a mob - surged towards the stage, lunging for the screen and the white tarp that all the equipment and lights
sat on. In one swift and terrifying motion, all of P.I.L's lights and equipment went sliding into the audience, (bouncers risking their
lives to save what they could), the battered screen flew up (apparently a move directed from the video booth), and everyone and
everything went quite insanely and horrifyingly beserk . . .
All the while, Lydon's taunting continues, he sings "New York New York, a helluva town . . .", and when he sees the video screen
going up, his floor sliding out from under him, and he realizes he's seconds away from certain injury, he quickly barks "This is the
end of the show" into the mike, and dashes off up the stairs and into the dressing room, where Jeanette and Keith have already
fled.
From then it's a blurred, two-minute flurry of fighting, bouncers
attacking and being attacked, the mob grabbing for anything and
everything they could, and that pervasive feeling of danger and
threat becoming real. For about two-and-a-half minutes when
things really went wild, you weren't sure if you were going to get
out alive, if P.I.L. had gotten out alive, if thirty or forty people were
going to die . . . it's the sort of feeling you get when you think the
elevator is going to fall, when you realize that you're likely to get
the shit beaten out of you with nowhere to run.
This was terror, pure terror, brought on and nurtured knowingly by
P.I.L., and even when the smoke cleared and it looked like
everything was going to be allright and there hadn't been too
many serious injuries, that didn't really make it any better; it
could've just as easily gone the other way.
Up in the dressing room, John and Keith snorted coke and
chatted with the injured who had been brought up there. They had performed, they had gotten a reaction, whether this was the
reaction that was desired or expected is known only to them.
The show the next night was cancelled; P.I.L. had wanted to do it, but the Ritz just couldn't take the risk.
AT THE risk of sounding scholarly, they're certain things about the show that really should be recapped and restated:
1) There truly were some moments when the combination of sound, video, shadow, and chance were very effective.
2) Beyond a certain point, the riot became a certainty, and P.I.L. did nothing to forestall or divert this, and indeed they went out of
their way to encourage it.
3) After a certain point, if John, Keith, or Jeanette had shown their faces in front of the screen, they - without exaggeration -
would've been seriously injured, perhaps killed. This was scary, particularly the image of frail little Jeanette being ripped to pieces
by the angry mob.
4) The fact that no one was killed or seriously injured, or the fact that the riot really didn't blow, was pure luck. It just as easily
couldn've gone the other way.
5) There was no excuse for P.I.L. or the Ritz to have not gone out of their way to warn the audience that this was not going to be
a gig, but a video and noise presentation. That this was not done was a major show of gross negligence on the Ritz's part and
gross arrogance on P.I.L.'s part.
Rock had stopped being theatre, had become a real threat on our lives and the performers' lives. And not unintentionally; this
was part of the performance. It's like the finale of Nathanael West's Day of the Locust when Hollywood goes beserk, and all the
anger pent up from living and watching a fantasy explodes into real anger and violence; the act becomes real.
In a way, it achieved what the Sex Pistols always said they wanted to achieve - the destruction of rock'n'roll, the rape of rock'n'roll.
I'll never be able to see another show without being very aware of it as being fantasy and theatre - the reality and genuine threat
of the P.I.L. show spoiled that game for me.
Near the front of the mob, just as things started getting out of control, some kid said (quite seriously) "I wish I hadda gun. I'd just
blow him (Lydon) away, Bang Bang, and I'd be famous just like those other guys. Bang Bang!"
This time no one had a gun.
THE END.
ANY WAY you look at it, rock is theatre, because it doesn't usually make that crossover into
real life, real threats, and influencing and directing real actions. We have grown accustomed
to seeing great bands on a stage, within a frame, within a setting; and they can be great
within this frame and setting, they can be threatening and energetic and violent and even
terrifying within that setting, but that ends where the frame ends, 'where the box of their
stage ends.
On Friday May 15h, Public Image Ltd. performed at the Ritz nightclub in New York City and
obliterated those boundaries between theatre and real life, between the mock violence and the
implied threat of the Dead Kennedys or the Sex Pistols and the real
desire of an audience to destroy a band and everything they stood
for, and the encouragement of the band for them to do so.
It's the first time I've ever seen a performance leave the stage/frame
and the control of the performer (and the 'controlled reactions of the
audience) and enter the gut; by doing what they were doing in front of
who they were doing it in front of, P.I.L. knowingly created a
performance/theatre that reached into that spot right below the chest
and just above the stomach, that spot where you feel fear and terror
before you feel it anywhere else.
It is also the first time that P.I.L. has actually done what they've always
said they were going to do, actually lived up to and acted on
everything they claim to stand for and have stated that they wanted to
achieve.
In this sense, May 15's show (about the tenth time P.I.L. have
performed in public and the first in a mostly non-musical format) was
really the first true Public Image Ltd. performance.
It just so happened that P.I.L. chose to debut in the wrong place at the
wrong time.
THE EVENTS leading up to the May 15 show were swift, and above all, surprising. On Wednesday, May 13, Bow Wow Wow suddenly
pulled out of a long-hyped and anticipated weekend two-night stand at the Ritz; according to some sources, McClaren and Bow Wow
Wow never had any intention of coming over to the States to tour in the first place, and the whole thing was just another big publicity
stunt - but that's unconfirmed to say the least.
In any event, this left the Ritz in a lot of hot water. On such short notice, they would have a great deal of trouble finding an act that
could top or equal Bow Wow Wow, and moreover, in any case they would have barely a day to promote the gig, and it would be too
late to get any ads in the papers or stick any posters up.
That anything came together at all was the mastermind of Michael Alago, a slight, pretty, and effeminate man who books the Ritz. In
the hectic offices of the cavernous, gaudy, art-deco ballroom-turned-rock club, Alago explained the chain of events that led to P. I.
L.'s appearance, this conversation taking place a few hours before the doors opened for the show.
"I found out through the grapevine that Keith (Levene) was in town," Alago states over a cup of fruit salad which he seems only too
happy to offer to me, " and I said 'you have to bail me out.' Within forty minutes he was down here, and the band arrived the next day
(Thursday)"
By way of explanation of what was going to go on later that night, Alago simply said: "Yes, a lot of people are going to be surprised,
but it's art, and it's sound and vision."
By 'band', Alago means Keith, thin and wiry, hair newly cropped to a short and spiky crewcut and restored to its original brown color
(in fact, he looks almost exactly as he did when he formed the Clash five years ago), John Lydon (complete with flaming red hair), and
Jeanette Lee, who does anything and everything and is definitely to be taken seriously as the third member of the band/corporation.
They would also be helped out by a sixty year-old white and overweight jazz drummer named Sammy whom they had found playing in
a New York City park the day of the show, and Eddy Carballo, an American friend of the band who would co-ordinate the video part of
the performance from the Ritz's high-tech, state-of-the-art video booth.
Obviously, this lineup wasn't going to get on stage and run through 'Careering', . or 'Lowlife', or 'Death Disco', etc. For one, in effect
there would be only two people on stage - John and Keith -who knew the songs or were conceivably prepared to play them.
And what were they to do - would John sing while Keith played drums, or would John play drums and sing while Keith played guitar
and synths, or would Keith play bass and John play drums . . .? So obviously, there was no intention - or even the means - for P.I.L.
to get on stage and 'play a gig'.
real life, real threats, and influencing and directing real actions. We have grown accustomed
to seeing great bands on a stage, within a frame, within a setting; and they can be great
within this frame and setting, they can be threatening and energetic and violent and even
terrifying within that setting, but that ends where the frame ends, 'where the box of their
stage ends.
On Friday May 15h, Public Image Ltd. performed at the Ritz nightclub in New York City and
obliterated those boundaries between theatre and real life, between the mock violence and the
implied threat of the Dead Kennedys or the Sex Pistols and the real
desire of an audience to destroy a band and everything they stood
for, and the encouragement of the band for them to do so.
It's the first time I've ever seen a performance leave the stage/frame
and the control of the performer (and the 'controlled reactions of the
audience) and enter the gut; by doing what they were doing in front of
who they were doing it in front of, P.I.L. knowingly created a
performance/theatre that reached into that spot right below the chest
and just above the stomach, that spot where you feel fear and terror
before you feel it anywhere else.
It is also the first time that P.I.L. has actually done what they've always
said they were going to do, actually lived up to and acted on
everything they claim to stand for and have stated that they wanted to
achieve.
In this sense, May 15's show (about the tenth time P.I.L. have
performed in public and the first in a mostly non-musical format) was
really the first true Public Image Ltd. performance.
It just so happened that P.I.L. chose to debut in the wrong place at the
wrong time.
THE EVENTS leading up to the May 15 show were swift, and above all, surprising. On Wednesday, May 13, Bow Wow Wow suddenly
pulled out of a long-hyped and anticipated weekend two-night stand at the Ritz; according to some sources, McClaren and Bow Wow
Wow never had any intention of coming over to the States to tour in the first place, and the whole thing was just another big publicity
stunt - but that's unconfirmed to say the least.
In any event, this left the Ritz in a lot of hot water. On such short notice, they would have a great deal of trouble finding an act that
could top or equal Bow Wow Wow, and moreover, in any case they would have barely a day to promote the gig, and it would be too
late to get any ads in the papers or stick any posters up.
That anything came together at all was the mastermind of Michael Alago, a slight, pretty, and effeminate man who books the Ritz. In
the hectic offices of the cavernous, gaudy, art-deco ballroom-turned-rock club, Alago explained the chain of events that led to P. I.
L.'s appearance, this conversation taking place a few hours before the doors opened for the show.
"I found out through the grapevine that Keith (Levene) was in town," Alago states over a cup of fruit salad which he seems only too
happy to offer to me, " and I said 'you have to bail me out.' Within forty minutes he was down here, and the band arrived the next day
(Thursday)"
By way of explanation of what was going to go on later that night, Alago simply said: "Yes, a lot of people are going to be surprised,
but it's art, and it's sound and vision."
By 'band', Alago means Keith, thin and wiry, hair newly cropped to a short and spiky crewcut and restored to its original brown color
(in fact, he looks almost exactly as he did when he formed the Clash five years ago), John Lydon (complete with flaming red hair), and
Jeanette Lee, who does anything and everything and is definitely to be taken seriously as the third member of the band/corporation.
They would also be helped out by a sixty year-old white and overweight jazz drummer named Sammy whom they had found playing in
a New York City park the day of the show, and Eddy Carballo, an American friend of the band who would co-ordinate the video part of
the performance from the Ritz's high-tech, state-of-the-art video booth.
Obviously, this lineup wasn't going to get on stage and run through 'Careering', . or 'Lowlife', or 'Death Disco', etc. For one, in effect
there would be only two people on stage - John and Keith -who knew the songs or were conceivably prepared to play them.
And what were they to do - would John sing while Keith played drums, or would John play drums and sing while Keith played guitar
and synths, or would Keith play bass and John play drums . . .? So obviously, there was no intention - or even the means - for P.I.L.
to get on stage and 'play a gig'.
"I HOPE no one's been misled - no one said it was a gig", states
Jeanette Lee, curled up and cross-legged on the floor of the Ritz's
video booth. It's about 8 pm. two hours away from the door opening
and about five away from the show itself.
Lee is, in a word, adorable; small, big brown eyes, a wonderful yellow
party dress, she could quite literally pass for eight or nine. She's also
a joy to talk to and wants to be as helpful and as informative as
possible.
Lee continues: "It wasnt supposed to be advertised as playing -
there are instruments up there, and we will be up there, but there will
be no playing.
Jeanette Lee, curled up and cross-legged on the floor of the Ritz's
video booth. It's about 8 pm. two hours away from the door opening
and about five away from the show itself.
Lee is, in a word, adorable; small, big brown eyes, a wonderful yellow
party dress, she could quite literally pass for eight or nine. She's also
a joy to talk to and wants to be as helpful and as informative as
possible.
Lee continues: "It wasnt supposed to be advertised as playing -
there are instruments up there, and we will be up there, but there will
be no playing.
If you had told us a week ago that we would be here doing this, we
just wouldn't have believed you. We weren't even positive that we
were actually going to go through with this until 9 o'clock this morning,
and we still don't know what we're going to do when we get up there.
"Everything is actually going to be done live -there's no preparation.
The band will be live, the video will be live - it's all spontaneous. It
happened so quickly, and I'm to interested in what we can do in a day
- that's the exciting part. The whole thing about this Corporation is
spontaniety - and that wasn't the story on the last tour. We did that really because. . because we wanted to come to America."
She makes a broad gesture that includes the video booth -and all of its equipment, the hall, and the stage, which is obscured
entirely by a gigantic video screen, behind which Lydon is pounding out "The Flowers of Romance" drum riff accompanied by
Keith's synthesizer blurbs and belches.
"This was a perfect opportunity to use a visual thing with video and noise added. I just hope no one's been misled."
But what if they are?
"People should know what to expect - or what not to expect - out of this corporation. They should know that we're not going to get
up there and play songs. We've said that in so many interviews and it bores me to death to say it again.
This is so much more interesting than going to a gig and hearing what you've already got on record. This has so much more to
offer." John's line of reply to the same queries is far less explanatory and far more blunt.
"Haven't you sussed it out yet?" he says, speaking from a near pitch-dark corner of the ballroom. "Why don't you just hang out and
wait for it all to happen, baby."
OKAY, a little about what P.I.L intend to do and what they intend to do it on:
John, Keith, Jeanette, and Sammy are going to be up on stage, but they plan to spend the show completely behind a twenty-foot by
twenty-foot video screen, which covers the entire stage except for half-a-foot at the bottom and about five feet at the sides. Behind
that screen the set-up almost looks normal - sparse, modern, but almost normal. There's a drum kit, a synthesizer bank, a few
guitars and basses, two video cameras, and a record player.
A massive array of lights and spots situated behind P.I.L. will throw their sillouettes onto the screen - the closer P.I.L. are to the
screen, the more defined the sillouette. The video cameras will project whatever it is P.I.L. is going to be doing back there onto the
huge screen and over the sillouettes.
And finally, pre-recorded videos of P.I.L. will be shown on the screen and over the shadows, presumably mixed in with the live relay
of what P.I.L. will be doing behind that screen, which still remains a complete mystery.
They could play records, play white noise, make shadow puppets, tell jokes, even, for all we know, play a set - but the key thing
seems to be that from no vantage point out front will anyone be able to see any of P. I. L. in the flesh.
Near the front of a large line outside of the Ritz is a blond-haired teen punk, complete with dog collar and Sex Pistols T-shirt, tells
me that P.I.L. is his faveband, he's excited about seeing them in a smaller place, he saw them last time and he thought they were
great, and no, he wasn't going to come back on Saturday night but he did have tickets to see the Jam later in the month.
He, and about five hundred others, have been waiting in a line outside of the Ritz that started forming at about twelve o'clock in the
afternoon. By about seven it's begun to pour, and it'll continue to rain very hard all night.
When the doors open at about ten in the evening, these people - and about fifteen hundred others - will have paid twelve dollars
and waited, in abominable weather for hours and hours to see and hear Public Image Ltd., the band.
Nearly all of them expect a show pretty much along the lines of what P.I.L. gave them last time at NYC's Palladium; that amounts to a
more-or-less straightforward traditional rock show, perhaps a bit more spontaneous and unpredictable (this/s P.I.L.) and a bit more
intimate (this being the Ritz, an unseated balroom). No one has given them any reason to believe that neither will they be seeing
P.I.L. in the flesh or hearing familiar P.I.L. material.
Do you sense a conflict of interests?
just wouldn't have believed you. We weren't even positive that we
were actually going to go through with this until 9 o'clock this morning,
and we still don't know what we're going to do when we get up there.
"Everything is actually going to be done live -there's no preparation.
The band will be live, the video will be live - it's all spontaneous. It
happened so quickly, and I'm to interested in what we can do in a day
- that's the exciting part. The whole thing about this Corporation is
spontaniety - and that wasn't the story on the last tour. We did that really because. . because we wanted to come to America."
She makes a broad gesture that includes the video booth -and all of its equipment, the hall, and the stage, which is obscured
entirely by a gigantic video screen, behind which Lydon is pounding out "The Flowers of Romance" drum riff accompanied by
Keith's synthesizer blurbs and belches.
"This was a perfect opportunity to use a visual thing with video and noise added. I just hope no one's been misled."
But what if they are?
"People should know what to expect - or what not to expect - out of this corporation. They should know that we're not going to get
up there and play songs. We've said that in so many interviews and it bores me to death to say it again.
This is so much more interesting than going to a gig and hearing what you've already got on record. This has so much more to
offer." John's line of reply to the same queries is far less explanatory and far more blunt.
"Haven't you sussed it out yet?" he says, speaking from a near pitch-dark corner of the ballroom. "Why don't you just hang out and
wait for it all to happen, baby."
OKAY, a little about what P.I.L intend to do and what they intend to do it on:
John, Keith, Jeanette, and Sammy are going to be up on stage, but they plan to spend the show completely behind a twenty-foot by
twenty-foot video screen, which covers the entire stage except for half-a-foot at the bottom and about five feet at the sides. Behind
that screen the set-up almost looks normal - sparse, modern, but almost normal. There's a drum kit, a synthesizer bank, a few
guitars and basses, two video cameras, and a record player.
A massive array of lights and spots situated behind P.I.L. will throw their sillouettes onto the screen - the closer P.I.L. are to the
screen, the more defined the sillouette. The video cameras will project whatever it is P.I.L. is going to be doing back there onto the
huge screen and over the sillouettes.
And finally, pre-recorded videos of P.I.L. will be shown on the screen and over the shadows, presumably mixed in with the live relay
of what P.I.L. will be doing behind that screen, which still remains a complete mystery.
They could play records, play white noise, make shadow puppets, tell jokes, even, for all we know, play a set - but the key thing
seems to be that from no vantage point out front will anyone be able to see any of P. I. L. in the flesh.
Near the front of a large line outside of the Ritz is a blond-haired teen punk, complete with dog collar and Sex Pistols T-shirt, tells
me that P.I.L. is his faveband, he's excited about seeing them in a smaller place, he saw them last time and he thought they were
great, and no, he wasn't going to come back on Saturday night but he did have tickets to see the Jam later in the month.
He, and about five hundred others, have been waiting in a line outside of the Ritz that started forming at about twelve o'clock in the
afternoon. By about seven it's begun to pour, and it'll continue to rain very hard all night.
When the doors open at about ten in the evening, these people - and about fifteen hundred others - will have paid twelve dollars
and waited, in abominable weather for hours and hours to see and hear Public Image Ltd., the band.
Nearly all of them expect a show pretty much along the lines of what P.I.L. gave them last time at NYC's Palladium; that amounts to a
more-or-less straightforward traditional rock show, perhaps a bit more spontaneous and unpredictable (this/s P.I.L.) and a bit more
intimate (this being the Ritz, an unseated balroom). No one has given them any reason to believe that neither will they be seeing
P.I.L. in the flesh or hearing familiar P.I.L. material.
Do you sense a conflict of interests?
THE DOORS Open atten without real incident. Strangely, it takes a
while before the place really fills up. The people who've been waiting
outside all day are excited and very wet - the spiked hair becomes
more spiked, the thrift shop clothing (or the expensive duds made to
look like thrift-shop clothing) has become a few shades darker and
has occasionally fallen to pieces. But the mood amongst those
who've waited for this and now crowd to the front of the strange is
very high. In fact, the whole place seems to be electrified by P.I.L.
and the suddenness of it all. The entire staff of the Ritz is totally
wired and galvanized - it's as if each and every one of them was
going on stage that night. So much seems to be at stake, so much
could happen, this thing has been pulled together so quickly and so
tightly; it's very nearly as if the Ritz and all of its staff have become
part of the corporation. A Ritz employee:
"Definitely, it's a performance for us, too. Everything could be blown,
everything could go perfectly. John summed up our role better than
anyone: 'If anything gets busted up, if everything gets broken, we can just catch the first plane out tomorrow'."
The waiting starts, the ballroom fills up, the liggers mill around and the crowd on the floor and at the front gets packed tighter and
tighter. An opening act, a Suicide-like two piece, come and go with relatively little incident and abuse. More waiting, more crowding.
An announcement that "Public Image will appear at one".
- At about 1AM, with the ballroom lights still up, the stage and screen still dark, and UB40 blaring over the PA, the well-known and
immediately recognizable bass riff of 'Public Image' (the song) comes booming out from behind the screen. There's no vocal, but
the drums kick in a pretty cohesive and complete drum-and-bass version of the tune is run through about three times in the next
ten minutes. There's a lot of confusion - is this performance or not? Finally, about 1:20, the lights seemingly go down in earnest.
Immediately, before anything has even happened, things had become scary - you knew that a threat was there, and whether it was
going to be acted on or not was the question.
Oddly the first part of the program was a video of Shox Lumania - a NY based theatrical rock/costume troupe somewhat along the
lines of Shock, and nearly as miserable. This was followed by a silly, but almost informative sketch-on-video of Keith, bound and
gagged, being interviewed by a woman in trashy dress sitting in a garbage can.
This went on a bit too long - about ten or fifteen minutes - and the technical and artistic quality (though not necessarily the intent)
of the video was terrible, and much of it was inaudible, but some interesting things were said:
Basically, Keith and his bizarre interviewer kept on reiterating that this wasn't going to be a concert, you weren't to expect the
normal, and don't be surprised when you weren't going to get it. But it was hard to hear and no one really seemed to be paying all
that much attention.
while before the place really fills up. The people who've been waiting
outside all day are excited and very wet - the spiked hair becomes
more spiked, the thrift shop clothing (or the expensive duds made to
look like thrift-shop clothing) has become a few shades darker and
has occasionally fallen to pieces. But the mood amongst those
who've waited for this and now crowd to the front of the strange is
very high. In fact, the whole place seems to be electrified by P.I.L.
and the suddenness of it all. The entire staff of the Ritz is totally
wired and galvanized - it's as if each and every one of them was
going on stage that night. So much seems to be at stake, so much
could happen, this thing has been pulled together so quickly and so
tightly; it's very nearly as if the Ritz and all of its staff have become
part of the corporation. A Ritz employee:
"Definitely, it's a performance for us, too. Everything could be blown,
everything could go perfectly. John summed up our role better than
anyone: 'If anything gets busted up, if everything gets broken, we can just catch the first plane out tomorrow'."
The waiting starts, the ballroom fills up, the liggers mill around and the crowd on the floor and at the front gets packed tighter and
tighter. An opening act, a Suicide-like two piece, come and go with relatively little incident and abuse. More waiting, more crowding.
An announcement that "Public Image will appear at one".
- At about 1AM, with the ballroom lights still up, the stage and screen still dark, and UB40 blaring over the PA, the well-known and
immediately recognizable bass riff of 'Public Image' (the song) comes booming out from behind the screen. There's no vocal, but
the drums kick in a pretty cohesive and complete drum-and-bass version of the tune is run through about three times in the next
ten minutes. There's a lot of confusion - is this performance or not? Finally, about 1:20, the lights seemingly go down in earnest.
Immediately, before anything has even happened, things had become scary - you knew that a threat was there, and whether it was
going to be acted on or not was the question.
Oddly the first part of the program was a video of Shox Lumania - a NY based theatrical rock/costume troupe somewhat along the
lines of Shock, and nearly as miserable. This was followed by a silly, but almost informative sketch-on-video of Keith, bound and
gagged, being interviewed by a woman in trashy dress sitting in a garbage can.
This went on a bit too long - about ten or fifteen minutes - and the technical and artistic quality (though not necessarily the intent)
of the video was terrible, and much of it was inaudible, but some interesting things were said:
Basically, Keith and his bizarre interviewer kept on reiterating that this wasn't going to be a concert, you weren't to expect the
normal, and don't be surprised when you weren't going to get it. But it was hard to hear and no one really seemed to be paying all
that much attention.
AFTER A short but ominous silence, P.I.L. were formally introduced
by the same women in the same garbage can, only this time in
person and holding the top of the garbage can as a shield against
the onslaught of bottles.
"I fold you they were wierd!" she shrugged and squawked.
"Ladies and gentlemen, here they are, Public Image Limited!" What
followed was pretty much as those who had been warned expected.
Four distinct and very identifiable shadows against the screen,
videos over it, audience confusion and derision.
Keith then walked over to the side of the stage - this part I could
actually see from my vantage point - flipped a lit cigarette into the
audience and put a copy of P.I.L.'s 'Flowers Of Romance' onto the
by the same women in the same garbage can, only this time in
person and holding the top of the garbage can as a shield against
the onslaught of bottles.
"I fold you they were wierd!" she shrugged and squawked.
"Ladies and gentlemen, here they are, Public Image Limited!" What
followed was pretty much as those who had been warned expected.
Four distinct and very identifiable shadows against the screen,
videos over it, audience confusion and derision.
Keith then walked over to the side of the stage - this part I could
actually see from my vantage point - flipped a lit cigarette into the
audience and put a copy of P.I.L.'s 'Flowers Of Romance' onto the
