Sid Vicious

Sid Sings
Virgin, 1979

I never joined the cult of The Sex Pistols. It may have helped if I was actually around at the time – but when I did go back and explore the collection of punk bands from the late 1970s, I came away confused as to why the Pistols in particular were so idolised. Their publicity stunts helped, no doubt. History might have been written differently had the Buzzcocks sailed down the Thames playing 'Orgasm Addict'. But it's depressing to think good PR was the biggest factor in the Pistols' success. I'd always wanted to know more, but it was impossible to sift through all the bullshit and mythology. Until I read Nick Kent.

Kent's account of the Pistols also happens to be the least objective. From his foreword to The Dark Stuff, he makes it clear he's not a fan. "Maybe you'll wonder why I've kept from documenting my experiences with the band in a special chapter," he writes. "The answer is simple: they were all ungrateful, back-stabbing bastards." Kent was one of NME's star journalists at the time, and sums up characters like Steve Jones and John Lydon only in as many words as it takes to detail the acts of violence he was subject to while being near them. He does dedicate a chapter to Sid, though. It's titled "The exploding dim-wit".

John Simon Ritchie was christened Sid by John Lydon, to avoid confusion. His surname came later, after he was "dispatched" to beat the shit out of Kent at a Pistols gig in 1976. An accomplice stuck a knife in the writer's face to keep him still while Sid swung his rusty bike chain around, aiming for Kent's head and hitting the mark at least once. Lydon was delighted at the result, according to Kent, and granted him the moniker Vicious. For Sid, the writer's payback would only hurt his memory. He'd been dead for years when Kent published his particularly frank essay detailing Ritchie's early years as the son of a single heroin-addicted mother, and his failed suicide attempts, writhing around in blood- and urine-soaked sheets. "Children around junkies are given few options in life," Kent wrote. "He could stare at the wall, or he could throw himself against it. He chose the latter."