Rock ‘N’ Roll Rebel: Glen Matlock Interviewed
Glen Matlock is at ease with his surroundings. When Clash makes our way to his West London apartment he’s left the door open, a cool breeze circulating through the flat. Mementos from his storied career adorn the walls – gold discs from the Sex Pistols, mentions of his time steering Rich Kids, or his current role as bass player with seminal New York outfit Blondie. Even amid these heights, however, recent solo album ‘Consequences Coming’ is pretty special – a vital, searing burst of polemic, it offered politicised rock ‘n’ roll thrills.
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Reclining on the sofa, he can’t help but smile at the impact of it all. An appearance on breakfast television went viral, his outburst against the Tories, Boris Johnson, and Hard Right nationalism sending his name trending across social media. Looking back, he sees “an inherent sage-like quality” to the album. “Since this came out, Trump has come unstuck, and Boris has come unstuck. Fan-fucking-tastic!”
While he’s not overly enamoured with the Labour party in its current state either, Glen Matlock can’t disguise his scorn for the Tories. It’s all over his new album – this inherent thirst for the underdog, a desire to kick against the pricks. “The songs aren’t really political,” he shrugs. “They’re just gut reactions to what’s going on around me. As a songwriter, if you don’t pick up on that it’s an abdication of responsibility.”
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This isn’t an act of finger-pointing – at its heart, ‘Consequences Coming’ is meant to be a rock ‘n’ roll party of defiance. “The songs aren’t particularly po-faced,” he points out. “There’s a bit of fun to it.”
In spite of his formidable legacy, this new album found Glen Matlock forced to go it alone. Initial recordings took place in the weeks running up to the first lockdown, and after that he was at home. Post-lockdown Earl Slick came on board, with the two working in tandem to bring the record to fruition. “I took it home and sat on it for ages,” he says. “I had plenty of time to qualify my way of thinking.”
After a major label fell through, Glen Matlock shopped the record around, tapping up some old friends. “I’m 66 and a half,” he says, “nobody thinks I’m Harry Styles! It’s a question of finding the backing to do it. With this one, I did it all off my own back.”
“There was nobody knowing down the doors for me to make a record,” he adds. “But that never stopped me in the past, and it’s not going to stop me now.”
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Out now, Glen Matlock’s indefatigable spirit put him back on the map. Take that fateful breakfast TV slot – it involved a rushed trip to Manchester, a cancelled dinner, and a 6am start, all contributing to his mood of brutal honesty. “Well, I was annoyed!” he laughs. “And they picked on the wrong bloke. I’m glad I said what I said. Total strangers come up to me in the street and say ‘well done’… it had to be said!”
“I’ve got nothing to lose, really. I’ve always tried to speak my mind. Sometimes there’s a time and a place for things. You do what you do, and the world catches up with you a little bit.”
In rock terms, he’s been there, and done that. A core component of the Sex Pistols, his melodic touch added a touch of sweetness to their seminal debut album. The four-piece quickly disintegrated, however, with Glen infamously pushed out of the band. With his musicality absent, the chemistry shifted, splitting within months. It’s curious to imagine these characters in the same group – John Lydon, who went on to form Public Image Ltd. – and Glen Matlock, whose work as Rich Kids forged the definition of power pop.
“It’s interesting to think about,” he says. “If you look at PiL, and then Rich Kids, and then Steve (Jones) and Paul (Cook) as the Professionals… it’s all very different. It’s interesting to think what could have happened. But it never would have happened, anyway, as we’re all so chalk and cheese as people.”
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We’re keen to discuss Rich Kids, and the lingering influence of that brief-lived outfit. “People like the records!” he says. “Some of them should have been bigger hits. ‘Ghosts Of Princes In Towers’ for example. Even Bob Geldof said that should have been a hit! But you just do what you do. And you try to do it as astutely as possible, ride around the potholes in the road… and you end up where you are now. I’m not doing too badly.”
But Glen isn’t dwelling on the past. When Clash sits down with him he’s packing his bags for Glastonbury, preparing for another live run with Blondie. It’s a role he loves – as he puts it, he gets to stick on some smart clothes, plug in his bass, and play some classic songs to passionate fans. “I’m really enjoying playing with Blondie at the moment,” he says. “I mean, I played with a version of the Faces. Which was a thrill – one of my favourite ever bands! I used to sing their songs in front of the mirror as a kid.”
“They’ve always tried to push the envelope,” he reflects. “They certainly aren’t the Status Quo of New York punk… they push it. The songs are interesting. And playing with somebody else, you pick up on new ideas.”
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Led by Debbie Harry, the iconic singer’s voice became the subject of social media debate over summer – the usual misogyny, and something a fellow musician knocks right out of contention. “I dunno why,” he admits. “When I first started rehearsing with them, the sound guy said: everything alright in your corner? And I said: turn Debbie up a bit. He said, oh is it too quiet? And I said no, I just like it! I just want to listen to it.”
In a way, Glen Matlock is living the ideal life of a musician – his solo shows taking place in small, intimate, sold out venues, while Blondie ratchets it all up a notch. “It’s refreshing,” he says. “If you only did small venues it might get a bit tedious, but luckily I’m in the position where the phone goes, and I can do both.”
“When you’re just playing bass with somebody it’s quite a simple thing. You learn the parts, rehearse… then you get there with a nice shirt on, your hair looks kinda cool, and you play,” he smiles. “With my own shows, it’s different. You’re in charge. The buck stops with you.”
“Now I’ve got my feet under the table with Blondie, I see them as being a bit like Dr Who… they keep regenerating! As long as Debbie and Clem are there, it’s cool.”
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The spectre of the Sex Pistols lingers over our conversation – we’re itching to hear if contact has been made, and if future shows could align. “We’ve made up a certain amount of ground,” he says. “Me and Steve and Paul get on enough. I’ve no idea where John is in the world. Steve lives in LA, I saw him when I was there. We had dinner, I did his radio show. Paul lives here. We aren’t in each other’s pockets. But we still have something in common which only four people have in the whole world… I’m not sure if we’ll ever do something again – I doubt we will – but as soon as we go into a room and plug in, we’re the Sex Pistols.”
John Lydon, of course, doesn’t have his troubles to seek, losing wife Nora Forster to Alzheimer’s earlier this year. “A lot of people don’t know this but my old man died of Alzheimer’s,” he says. “I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. I feel bad for John, y’know.”
Closing, Glen Matlock waxes lyrical on the music industry, and its ups and downs. His all-time favourite band, he tells Clash, are 60s Mod legends the Small Faces – pointing to a biography of singer Steve Marriott on his bookshelf, he uses them as an example. Famously ripped off – twice! – the band didn’t get their dues. In Glen’s opinion, every gig is a gift.
Politics, though, continually intrude on the conversation. “There’s light at the end of the tunnel… but whether it’s a light at the end of the tunnel, who knows? I just hope the horrible bunch of Tories we’ve got right now, who sold us down the river, come unstuck. I don’t know if Labour are our saviours, but it can’t get any worse.”
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‘Consequences Coming’ is out now.
Words: Robin Murray
Additional Research: Jack Wilkie
Photography: Jack Alexander (@jackalexanderUK)
Grooming: Sandra Hahnel (@sandrahahnel)
