It that time of this song’s release, I wasn’t particularly enamoured by electronic / dance / whatever you call Leftfield music. Heavily guitar driven, I was. To be fair, I wasn’t even that big a fan of the Sex Pistols. I enjoyed them more on a level of annoying the right people over what they sounded like. Bill Grundy, etc. Also, in my youth, I didn’t understand that these two very different approaches to music could work together. You were either in one camp or the other.
Obviously that’s massively short sighted. I learned very quickly that you could be abrasive and visceral without having to resort to chugging axes and thrashy power chords.
The timing was perfect, too. Kind of. When this was in the charts, parts of Los Angeles were actually on fire. And given John Lydon’s continued form, you could be forgiven for thinking that he really did want Hollywood to burn down over it being a figurative statement about the questionable morals of the place.
You only get black and navy with this one. Fire usually looks better in the dark, doesn’t it?