Experimental post-punk band Public Image Ltd, led by former Sex Pistol and original punk figurehead John Lydon, came to Turner Hall Ballroom on Wednesday night. While the Sex Pistols’ initial existence only lasted a handful of years, PiL, on the other hand, have had a multi-decade career redefining and reshaping the genres of punk, funk, rock, and disco over the course of 11 albums. Although that discography, much like their live show, can take some strange detours with varying levels of quality.
Outside of his music, the former Johnny Rotten (going by his actual surname, Lydon, since PiL’s formation in 1979) was at one time the face of British counterculture and the punk revolution in 1977. His attitude, fashion sense, and political stance influenced the radical youth in the U.K. and throughout western culture. However, in recent years, Lydon has been equally as provocative on the opposite end of the political spectrum. Since becoming an American citizen in 2013, he’s been seen sporting red MAGA T-shirts and voicing his support for the American far-right, proudly announcing that he would vote for Trump—a long way from shouting “Anarchy In The U.K.” on British television. Time can do a number on one’s attitude, mentality, and even morality, I suppose.
Wednesday night’s show started promptly at 8 p.m. with opener Plague Vendor, a California five-piece signed to Epitaph Records. Being totally unfamiliar with the group, I was on board for most of their bluesy punk set, with it oftentimes calling to mind an amped-up Black Angels. I had to jump off when it veered into Velvet Revolver and Buckcherry territory. Lead singer Brandon Blaine had all the trusty rock and roll frontman moves. He spat beer onto the crowd, did the Axl Rose shimmy snake dance a few times, and touted his rock lifer status with lines like “What the fuck is a Roth IRA?” They were fine.
After a brief changeover, Public Image Ltd took the Turner Hall stage. Being the only original member of PiL, singer Lydon has been backed by some truly once-in-a-generation musicians over the band’s nearly 50-year existence. Jah Wobble, Steve Vai, Ginger Baker of Cream, Ryuichi Sakamoto, and John McGeoch have all spent periods (some very brief) in the group.
Wednesday night, he shared the stage with guitarist Lu Edmonds (The Damned, The Mekons), bassist Scott Firth (Spice Girls, Steve Winwood, Toni Braxton), and drummer Mark Roberts (Massive Attack, Neneh Cherry). Suffice to say, another equally seasoned batch of dudes.
Their set started with Album highlight “Home,” and I was immediately struck by how great the band sounded. It can be hit or miss seeing a legacy act live, especially one with a legacy five decades long, but the opening songs quelled most of my trepidations. Lydon’s voice still maintains his signature angst-ridden vibrato even after “just getting over pneumonia,” as he told the crowd, blowing his nose into a hanky. However, the MVP of the band was charismatic guitarist Edmonds whose guitar tone was so perfectly drenched in chorus and echo effects it probably keeps The Edge up at night.
The absolute highlight of the evening came towards the middle of the set with the three-song run of 1983 hit “This Is Not A Love Song” followed by “Poptones” and “Death Disco”/”Swan Lake” from 1979’s Metal Box album. There were moments during those songs where PiL’s multi-decade influence on underground music was palpable. I could detect the dance-punk irony of The Rapture and LCD Soundsystem, the propulsive noise-rock of Jesus Lizard, and even the angular post hardcore of Fugazi. If their influence on these later bands wasn’t direct, they influenced the bands that influenced them. During that 15 minutes, I could see a flash of this band’s former glory.
Only a few songs after that magnificent run, the former-Rotten decided to nudge the political elephant in the room. “I am an American. I’ve been an American now for a long time. I don’t care about your politics. I don’t care if you’re right. I don’t care if you’re left. God bless America.” The crowd answered back with a mixture of cheers, boos, and downward thumbs. It’s fascinating to see a former Sex Pistol, who built his career on ironically screaming “God save the Queen,” very un-ironically say “God bless America.”
After that brief speech, the night took a bizarre turn.
The band kicked into the absolutely punishing “Shoom” from 2015’s What the World Needs Now…, a song so grating and obnoxious that it ground the entire show to a halt. The 70-year-old Lydon adopted an almost Cookie Monster voice to yell cringe-inducing lines like “Fuck off / It’s bollocks la la / Me baby bollocks / Success suck lemons / Suck excess / It’s all bollocks / Big tits / You bollocks.” As the song crept on into eternity (PiL songs can kind of go on forever if they feel like it), the friend that I had taken to the show looked at me with a mixture of anger and exasperation. “Bro, what is this?” I had no answer for him.
This was followed by an absurd cover of a dated one-off collaboration Lydon did with ’90s electronic group Leftfield called “Open Up.” It was another unnecessary detour, especially with a setlist that wound up being only 10 songs long and with PiL having such a deep well of their own material to pull from.
After these two absolute set murderers, Lydon told the crowd he needed a smoke break. As the band sauntered backstage, me, my friend, and the full crowd of mostly 50-something white dudes waited awkwardly and quietly. The band returned five minutes later and played their biggest hit, “Rise,” an anti-imperialist song about apartheid in South Africa as well as The Troubles in Northern Ireland, another eyebrow raising moment coming from this 2026 version of Johnny Rotten.
Midway through the song, PiL threw their most insane curveball to the audience I’ve ever seen from a live band. The group slowly broke “Rise” down to a barebones reggae beat that felt like a moment where Lydon might introduce the band. Not quite.
He introduced the band member’s instruments, but weirder. “Do you like-uh da drums?” The drummer would start to solo. “Do you like-uh da drums?” Lydon would repeat over and over, louder and louder, as the soloist swelled. Each instrument got their own obnoxious mantra. “Do you like-uh da bass? Do you like-uh da bass?” Ad nauseam. I felt like I was at a drunken party and some obnoxious kid was doing a Borat impression. It was absolute torture and went on for what felt like 20 minutes.
Finally, the band showed mercy on its audience and hit da instruments all together and it was over. They all met at the front of the stage and bowed. Lydon then proceeded to actually introduce the members of Public Image Ltd and ended his speech by yelling “John, I’m only dancing!” In an instant, David Bowie’s 1972 single “John, I’m Only Dancing” came blasting over the PA speakers and the band left the stage. What the hell is going on?
The wild nosedive during the second half of PiL’s set left a strange impression after what had initially felt like a solid performance from a legendary band. Maybe the audience was being punished after many had booed Lydon during his “God bless America” speech. Maybe tonight was par for a PiL performance and I just never knew. But perhaps, subverting expectations—musically and politically—has always been Lydon’s brand. Before he left the stage, he shouted, “This is PiL!”
Want more Milwaukee Record? Subscribe to our free weekly newsletter and/or support us on Patreon.