I was initially puzzled as to why he seemed to have written it all over again, and having already read Rotten, I didn't bother with this one. Then, recently re-reading the aforementioned Rotten I noticed that it came out thirty years ago and therefore assumed this must be a continuation; but it makes a second sweep of both Lydon's troubled childhood and his time in the Pistols, so it isn't that either. Now, however, I understand - Rotten was a counter to all those history of punk books that were popping up at the time and not quite getting it right, whereas this is the autobiography proper, now that he's had a lot more to write about.
...or at least to talk about. Once again, we're back with that conversational style of as told to, complete with digressions and the kind of asides which make more sense in speech than on the page. It can be both exhausting and maddening at times, but I get the impression it was either that or the book wouldn't have happened at all; so you just have to get used to it, which you do because Lydon is a very entertaining man who says a lot which needs to be said.
It may not surprise you to learn that our man tends to blow his own trumpet loudly and often. At one point, for example, he takes credit for shops opening on Sunday because Public Image Ltd played at the Rainbow Theatre on Boxing Day back in 1978. However, this isn't to say that he lacks self-awareness regarding the complaints of his most vocal critics:
'What is it they're really trying to say? Have they a point? Should I analyze myself?' And of course, being me, I do. Well, I'm glad to report that I came out of my own self-analysis rather favourably.
Inevitably we also have certain contradictions, and my favourite of these refers to producer, Dave Jerden, slapping a sample of the Pistols' God Save the Queen over the coda of Acid Drops from That What is Not. I'm absolutely certain I've seen an interview - and just months ago - wherein John describes this having been done without his knowledge and so he's furious when he hears it, then eventually grows to like the idea; on the subject of which, herein we find:
At the end of the song I wanted the end refrain from God Save the Queen - 'nooooo fuuuuuture!' That to me seemed absolutely appropriate. I hope he remembers 'me like acid drops.'
Think Tank was about the rewriting of history that was going on with all them idiot punk books…
Yes, the rewriting of history…
Well, it doesn't matter, and our boy seems to pride himself on his contradictions with fairly good reason, rightly viewing them as symptomatic of the ability to think and progress, as distinct from merely hooting and clapping one's flippers in service of this week's most fashionable doctrine, regarding some of which - in case you were wondering - he also asks that we don't go mistaking his views as similar to those of that twat, Nigel Farage, in those actual words.
...sometimes I will say one thing to get a result, when I actually mean the opposite.
See? It isn't actually difficult to grasp, and any other silly questions you may have are capably answered in this book, which is far from perfect, but probably wouldn't do its job quite so well if it were.
You remember that deal with court jesters using comedic forms to say that which cannot otherwise be said? Well, while this one falls on its arse page after page, it nevertheless comes up smelling of roses nearly every time and is generally wise as fuck.
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