How Genesis And Sex Pistols Separated The 1970s
via GenesisVEVO / YouTube
In the sprawling cultural landscape of the 1970s, few contrasts were as stark—and symbolic—as that between Genesis and the Sex Pistols. On one side stood the meticulous, multi-layered sophistication of progressive rock. On the other, the explosive, stripped-down rawness of punk. While both camps sought to make bold statements, they often spoke past one another, driven by vastly different philosophies and aesthetics.
Phil Collins once admitted he admired the sound of the Sex Pistols’ debut, only to realize they were, in his words, “the enemy.” Punk, after all, emerged as a revolt against everything bands like Genesis embodied—grandiose stage shows, technical wizardry, and complex arrangements. The disdain was mutual; John Lydon’s infamous “I Hate Pink Floyd” t-shirt summed up the feeling that prog rock had become bloated and disconnected from reality.
Yet underneath the rivalry lay a curious tension: both groups represented reactions to their times. While Genesis offered escapism and elaborate musical journeys, the Sex Pistols embodied frustration and defiance. In retrospect, they were two sides of the same cultural coin—distilled visions of the 1970s splintering into conflicting identities.
The Backhanded Mutual Recognition
Phil Collins, despite being a face of prog rock, didn’t entirely dismiss punk. He acknowledged the Sex Pistols’ legitimacy in sound and production, even calling it “well produced.” Yet his compliment came with a caveat—he felt the Pistols’ deliberate disregard for technical musicality bordered on “cheating.” It was a subtle jab that revealed the values clash between the two camps.
Meanwhile, John Lydon returned the favor with similar ambiguity. While Lydon’s whole persona rejected the intricacies of prog, his back-and-forth with Collins showed a strange mutual curiosity. Neither man was oblivious to the other’s cultural weight. They just stood on opposite ends of what it meant to create “real” music.
That said, this exchange was less a feud and more a recognition of roles. Prog was precision, punk was rebellion. Collins knew his band had become a symbol of what punk sought to obliterate. And in that awareness, an odd form of respect started to grow—rooted in the understanding that both bands mattered deeply to their respective audiences.
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Peter Gabriel’s Dismissal of Punk
Peter Gabriel, Collins’ bandmate in Genesis, had a more definitive stance on punk. To him, movements like The Beatles’ early revolution had substance, while punk was more about style than depth. He viewed the Sex Pistols as a fashion trend, less a musical breakthrough and more a cultural flare-up.
Gabriel even attended an early Sex Pistols gig at the 100 Club—one of their most legendary performances. Yet he walked away unimpressed by their sound, preferring the musicality of The Clash. Gabriel’s critique wasn’t rooted in elitism so much as disappointment; he felt punk didn’t push the envelope in the ways he found meaningful.
His frustration also extended to how punk’s narrative ignored class nuance. Gabriel pointed out that punks like Joe Strummer came from backgrounds similar to his, yet crafted public images of working-class authenticity. Genesis, by contrast, never hid their middle-class roots—perhaps making them easier targets for anti-elitist backlash.
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Punk as a Cultural Uprising
From the punk perspective, Genesis wasn’t hated for who they were—but for what they represented. The genre’s message wasn’t merely anti-establishment—it was anti-pretension. In a world filled with economic unrest and growing disillusionment, a band singing about mythical lands in 13/8 time seemed out of touch with the average youth’s reality.
Lydon and his peers didn’t want to dismantle Genesis personally—they wanted to reclaim music for the people. Punk was about emotion over execution, grit over gloss. It challenged the idea that music needed complexity to be worthwhile. To punks, virtuosity had become a gatekeeping tool, locking everyday people out of the creative conversation.
Patti Smith’s reflections captured this ethos well: punk was born from a collective sense of isolation. Everyone thought they were alone—until they found each other through raw, loud, and unapologetically unrefined music. Genesis may not have caused this loneliness, but they represented a world where connection felt inaccessible to many.
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Coming Full Circle
Decades later, the lines between punk and prog seem less combative and more complementary. Collins has since expressed admiration for the Sex Pistols, even posing for a photo with Lydon at a Mojo awards show. What once felt like cultural warfare now looks more like a generational misunderstanding—one resolved with time and maturity.
The two genres that once drew such fierce lines in the sand are now both viewed as vital parts of 1970s music history. Each captured something the other missed: Genesis offered escapist complexity, the Sex Pistols offered brutal honesty. Together, they shaped a more complete picture of the decade’s musical spirit.
In the end, the separation wasn’t a battle—it was a balance. And perhaps that’s why their legacies endure. Whether in orchestral suites or guttural screams, both Genesis and the Sex Pistols challenged the status quo in their own ways. And both, in their own voice, made the 1970s unforgettable.
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