No future...

[fenderlove]

I really wanted to have something to say on Feb. 2nd to mark the 26th anniversary of the death of Sid Vicious, but I found myself lacking words. What can you say really? He was young and stupid. He let himself rot away until noting was left by a hollow drug-addicted shell. The thing is that he was, like, my age when he died; and even though he did some of the most moronic things, he still accomplished more than I ever have (if by accomplished you mean infamous). His death speaks to me. He's been dead longer than he was alive. If you look up 'senseless tragedy' in the dictionary it would have dear Sidney's picture next to it. In the words of John Cleese, what a senseless waste of human life.

I found this clip of an old 1978 interview with Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious and transcribed it. I thought I'd post it too. It's got some lighthearted moments and really highlights the razor wit Sid had when he wasn't on drugs.

Announcer: Glen Matlock's replacement was Johnny Rotten's old mate, Sid Vicious, recruited more for his offensive attitude than for any musical ability. One of the few times the Vicious and Rotten double-act allowed themselves to be interviewed was on Radio 1's Rock On with John Tobler.
John Tobler: This title of the album you did put out, did you, whose decision was it?
Johnny Rotten: Ours. That's... Steve always says it was his catch phrase.
Sid Vicious: It was something Steve always used to say.
JR: 'Cause he's rude.
SV: And decadent.

JR: And uncouth.
SV: And fat.
JR: Very fat.

JT: *laughs* Ah, but he's not here to defend himself.

SV: *laughs* He couldn't defend himself even if he was here; he'd kinda slove. We hate him. We plot against him every night, and they plot against me as well.
JT: Why do they plot against you, Sid?
SV: 'Cause they say that I can't play nothing, and that I'm stupid.
JR: *snickers* That isn't a plot; that's just a fact.

SV: *laughs*
JR: Next question.
JT: A question that has occurred to me is that, um, Malcolm, who is, who I know you hold in great esteem...
JR and SV: *laugh*
SV: Not that oaf. I hate Malcolm.

JT: He was originally a Stones fan.

JR and SV: *more laughter, louder than before*

JR: Typical.

SV: He was a miserable little artist from the East End with, with pretensions of being middle-class. In, in his house, in, in his closet in Clapham, he's, he's got this really ridiculous picture of this awful load of scribble...

JR: *laughs* It's meant to be a chair.

SV: It's meant to be a chair, and he was going, *imitates Malcolm* "Well, you see,"
JR: Every time you go in there, anyone...
SV: *still imitating Malcolm* "It's meant to signify the the flow of air around the chair, you know," and try and be all artistic and impress us, and we were laughing our heads off. What an idiot! It was great... And there's that poxy Vivian squawking away in the corner, sewing things up, babbling away to herself, the old bag. I hate her as well.
JT: What, well... In that case, why do you put up?
JR: For the hell of it.
SV: 'Cause we like them. They're our friends. *laughs*
JT: Who do you really hate, Sid?
SV: Everyone. I hate everyone except myself.