Frank Carter and the Sex Pistols, Glasgow review: 'Carter put some spittle into his delivery'

Or Frank Carter and Paul Cook, Steve Jones and Glen Matlock of The Sex Pistols, to give this band of punk veterans their legal moniker. Following a bitter fallout with cantankerous frontman John Lydon, the remaining original members of the punk trailblazers have enlisted former Gallows frontman Carter to help them celebrate their sole album, Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols, in front of a backdrop in the pink and yellow livery of the iconic sleeve.

This was their seminal shot across the bows before the band splintered in 1978 and Lydon explored more experimental pastures in Public Image Ltd. The business here was to deliver no-nonsense punk energy and gleeful nostalgia in the company of a young(er) punk buck. Carter has a semblance of Johnny Rotten snarl, though he introduced his new bandmates as if on the outside looking in.

A more pumped-up presence than Lydon, he headed into the crowd to start a circle pit with fans who are too old for this sort of thing but did their best to oblige.

The anthems were undeniable, with God Save the Queen, Pretty Vacant and the still potent Anarchy in the UK rising above the morass of churning guitars and tub-thumping drums. There was some light and shade through the onslaught, the rollicking No Feelings contrasting with the dark Bodies, while the set was rounded out with the raucous Silly Thing and an underwhelming take on The Stooges’ No Fun.

“I'd like to do this song my way,” declared Carter of the encore rendition of My Way. In previous outfits, he has crooned capably but still put some spittle into his delivery in a nod to late Pistols bassist Sid Vicious. Meanwhile, Matlock and Jones took a seat for a deserved rest after making a room of old age punks very happy.