John Lydon is no stranger to anger. As Johnny Rotten, the lead singer of the Sex Pistols, he was the spikey, snarling embodiment of rage hunched over a microphone stand with lunacy in his eyes and anarchy on his lips. After the Pistols imploded, Lydon formed
Public Image Ltd., and released several abrasive, avant-garde albums that truly set the pace for post-punk musical experimentation. The band’s first four albums leaned heavily on a bass-driven dub sound awash in angular, scratchy guitar and sodden with vitriol delivered in Lydon’s trademark sneer. There were always moments of brilliance to be found on the early albums, collector’s items all, but for me it required wading through too much musical muck and mayhem to find the gold.
Public Image Ltd., and released several abrasive, avant-garde albums that truly set the pace for post-punk musical experimentation. The band’s first four albums leaned heavily on a bass-driven dub sound awash in angular, scratchy guitar and sodden with vitriol delivered in Lydon’s trademark sneer. There were always moments of brilliance to be found on the early albums, collector’s items all, but for me it required wading through too much musical muck and mayhem to find the gold.
Then in 1986 Lydon, with the guidance of producer Bill Laswell, released Album (also cheekily known as Compact Disc and Cassette depending on the format). The recording featured an unlikely all-star cast of accomplished musicians that included Steve Vai on guitar, Bernard Fowler on backing vocals, Ginger Baker and Tony Williams on drums, Ryuichi Sakamoto on keyboards and Laswell on bass. The album was a departure from PIL’s early avant-garde explorations — much more commercial sounding with a big 80’s drum beat, and catchy hooks. Naturally, the critics and staunch PIL fans who were still counting on Lydon to continue deconstructing the traditional structure of rock music, hated it. For me, it was the first PIL album I could repeatedly listen to from start to finish.
One song in particular is amongst my all-time favorites, and although it might seem like a stretch for St. Patrick’s Day, I think “Rise” is a perfect choice. I know Lydon was prompted to write the song after reading a gruesome account depicting the torture of ANC activists in South Africa by the Apartheid government, but when I listen to the song I hear upbeat defiance with a glimmer of hope; and amidst it all, the idea that anger can be channeled into a positive, creative force. Woven throughout the tribal rhythm that anchors the song is the familiar phrase “may the road rise with you”, which is taken from the old Irish blessing “go n-éirí an bóthar leat” (“may you succeed on the road”). Lydon grew up the son of two Irish emigrants living in the impoverished Holloway Road neighborhood of North London. His first book titled Rotten: No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs documents how the road he travelled early in his life was often fraught with prejudice and discrimination—far from the comforting palm of God’s hand—as a result of his Irish heritage. That makes it difficult to discern if Lydon is being sarcastic, sincere or just a wee bit sentimental when he references the well known poem that hangs cross-stitched and framed in many an Irish home:
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.
May the wind be always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.
The song’s lyrical counterpoint to this famous Irish blessing, is the mantra-like refrain: “anger is an energy.”
Johnny Rotten / John Lydon has successfully harnessed energy from his anger ever since he contemptuously spat out the words “God save the Queen.” Indeed he seems to have found a way to convert anger into a constructive survival tactic that is the very essence of his personal and artistic philosophy, rather than a corrosive impediment to his well-being. The Irish have always had a knack for finding beauty in the face of adversity and poetry in the pangs of pain. They find something to celebrate no matter how dire life appears to be. They do it with song, they do it with dance, they do it with a pint glass poured and a shot glass raised. They’ve done it to traverse the Troubles, bolster rebellions, and outlive famines. Repeatedly, they rise to the occasion, and occasionally they stage an uprising. I could be wrong choosing “Rise,” by Public Image Ltd. for the Happy Medium Song of the Day on St. Patrick’s Day… or, I could be right. The road ahead looks formidable, but not insurmountable. We may stumble and even fall, but we will rise again. (Please use the comments box to share your thoughts.)
Johnny Rotten / John Lydon has successfully harnessed energy from his anger ever since he contemptuously spat out the words “God save the Queen.” Indeed he seems to have found a way to convert anger into a constructive survival tactic that is the very essence of his personal and artistic philosophy, rather than a corrosive impediment to his well-being. The Irish have always had a knack for finding beauty in the face of adversity and poetry in the pangs of pain. They find something to celebrate no matter how dire life appears to be. They do it with song, they do it with dance, they do it with a pint glass poured and a shot glass raised. They’ve done it to traverse the Troubles, bolster rebellions, and outlive famines. Repeatedly, they rise to the occasion, and occasionally they stage an uprising. I could be wrong choosing “Rise,” by Public Image Ltd. for the Happy Medium Song of the Day on St. Patrick’s Day… or, I could be right. The road ahead looks formidable, but not insurmountable. We may stumble and even fall, but we will rise again. (Please use the comments box to share your thoughts.)