Sex Pistols’ Download Festival Show Proves John Lydon Is Wrong
via Michał Koszela / YouTube
Punk rock has undergone a massive transformation since its gritty beginnings in the 1970s. Nowhere was that evolution more evident than at Download Festival, where Friday night saw a striking contrast between polished, stadium-style pop-punk and raw, unfiltered rebellion. Green Day’s headlining set was a tight, crowd-pleasing affair, rich in big hooks and theatricality—more arena rock spectacle than punk spirit.
Enter the Sex Pistols—minus John Lydon—closing the Opus Stage with a mission to bring it all back to basics. With Frank Carter at the mic, the legendary band aimed to resurrect the ragged energy of punk’s first explosion. Lydon, never one to mince words, had previously slammed the reunion as glorified karaoke, dismissing it as a crass exploitation of his legacy.
At first, it was hard not to wonder if Lydon had a point. The opening few songs, including a sluggish “Holidays In The Sun” and a stumbling attempt at “Pretty Vacant,” felt oddly flat. Carter’s repeated efforts to fire up the crowd with a mosh pit seemed more like damage control than punk chaos. But then, something changed.
When the Sparks Finally Flew
Once the band finally clicked into gear, the tone of the night shifted entirely. It wasn’t just momentum—it was ignition. “New York” found its swagger, and from there, the Pistols began delivering what the crowd had come to see: a brash, volatile blast of punk energy.
Their catalog remains one of the strongest in punk history, and as they tore through classics like “Liar,” “Bodies,” and “EMI,” the fire started to burn brighter. The highlight came with a thunderous rendition of “No Fun,” complete with a literal rainbow breaking through the sky—punk rock meeting a strangely cinematic moment.
Steve Jones’ guitar tone, as distinctive as ever, proved to be the band’s anchor. And Carter, for all his antics, brought a sense of unfiltered unpredictability that pushed the show forward. By the time “Anarchy In The UK” closed the set, the Pistols had successfully reminded everyone why their name still means something.
A Different Breed of Chaos
Frank Carter’s version of the Sex Pistols offers a different kind of show than the one Green Day delivered the night before. While Billie Joe Armstrong brought Vegas-level polish, Carter brought fire and unpredictability. His chaotic dives into the crowd, his provocative stage banter, and his refusal to stick to a script made the set feel genuinely dangerous in a way few festival performances do today.
It was messy, sure—but that’s the point. Punk wasn’t built on perfection. It was built on passion, aggression, and refusal to follow the rules. Carter’s wild energy tapped into that ethos more effectively than any perfectly rehearsed routine could.
There was an edge to it all—like anything could go wrong at any moment—and that’s exactly where punk thrives. In that sense, Lydon’s absence didn’t dilute the experience. If anything, it gave the rest of the band room to prove that the Pistols are more than just the man behind the snarling sneer.
Still Rotten Without Rotten?
There were flaws, to be sure. The exclusion of “Submission” from the setlist was disappointing for longtime fans. And some in the crowd, possibly more interested in other acts like McFly or Spiritbox, didn’t seem fully engaged throughout. The omission of John Lydon from the archival footage also left a bitter taste—it felt like trying to erase history rather than simply move forward.
But those issues weren’t enough to derail the night. If anything, they highlighted just how tricky it is to balance nostalgia with progression. The band managed to pull it off—delivering a show that was both a celebration of punk history and a reminder that the genre still has teeth.
John Lydon may believe he owns the Pistols’ legacy, but Download proved otherwise. The spirit he once embodied lives on without him—louder, wilder, and defiantly alive. This wasn’t karaoke. This was punk rock refusing to die.
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