Anarchy In CV1

Britain in the mid 1970's had become a grim place to live. Endless clashes between the government and unions had led to crippling industrial disputes, powers cuts and the three day week. Music had remained mainly oblivious to it all, with the escapism of glam or the two year guitar solos of prog rock being the main musical cultural movements on offer.
All that changed with the advent of punk rock. A lot of people had simply had enough. Enough of being taken for granted, of staid tunes that reflected nothing about the lives of ordinary people, of the feeling they had no discernible identity. It was time to bite back. In suburbs all over Britain, there was a overwhelming feeling of a sea change in the air.
Coventry was no exception. Being based around production factories it had fared worse than most from the stand offs that led to short working hours and blackouts. When punk exploded, there were venues keen to accommodate the new controversial rebellion. The famous Locarno, by then Tiffany's was a prime example hosting many of the bright new names of new wave. But the gig that went down in Coventry folklore was the visit of the Sex Pistols at the height of their infamy.
By December 1977, they were public enemy number one. The alternative Silver Jubilee royal missive, God Save The Queen, had been denied the number one slot in highly debatable circumstances while the tour lay in ruins. Decimated because authorities in many places were simply too frightened or pompous or both, to allow the band to play. 
Coventry was a rare exception. And on the 17th of December, nightclub Mr George's in the City Centre played host to the Pistols. Coventry City FC were having their best season in years but had lost that day to Arsenal at home. A result referenced by Johnny Rotten, a Gunners fan, within moments of arriving on stage. Then the band launched into a chaotic set plagued by sound issues but high on electric tension.
It was like many of the Pistol's gigs, both an event and a catalyst. Many present saw the band and thought that they could do it too. Neville Staples, later of The Specials, was in the audience that night and cites it as a reference point for his motivation to become a musician. Sometimes, it isn't about technical excellence or proficiency but a feeling that is transmitted, that there is something more to be had.
That was the gift of the Sex Pistols. In a sweaty night spot in Coventry, the pent up fury of not being allowed to play was unleashed. They looked almost unworldly, like latter day urchins from the time of Dickins' transported into the tension of seventies Britain. It is almost unthinkable a band that were bossing the charts would play a place like Mr George's now. But this was not normality and all the better for it.
The Pistols would soon implode. But their legacy was secure. People who walked into their gigs a nobody realised they could be a somebody, make something of their own and on their own terms. For a short while at least it felt like everything was up for grabs. Coventry played its part. Hosting a notorious band when hardly anybody would entertain them. Nobody was killed or corrupted as those waving censorship orders had us believe.
In places that reeked of sweat and stale beer, a breath of fresh air swept across British music and culture, influencing many people to turn to the artistic rather than the industrial for their personal fulfilment and even their career. And that packed heaving pit of energy and anger on a pre Christmas night in Coventry's played its part.