Three generations of Punk, one perfect Yorkshire evening - proving the movement is still evolving rather than simply looking backwards
All around Halifax’s magnificent Piece Hall, familiar faces greeted one another as though no time had passed since the last festival. Some friendships stretch back decades, others began in a photo pit or over a pint between bands, but they all tell the same story. For all the myths, headlines and moral panic that once surrounded Punk, one of the movement’s greatest strengths has always been its people. That’s one of the reasons I keep coming back.
Whether it’s a muddy festival field, a tiny grassroots venue or somewhere as spectacular as The Piece Hall, you never really arrive at a punk gig on your own. Over the years I’ve found myself bumping into the same wonderful people all over the country. Familiar faces become familiar friends, and every event feels a little like a reunion. It’s something the mainstream media never understood during punk’s early years and, if I’m honest, one of the reasons I enjoy covering this scene so much. As I looked around the courtyard before the first band took to the stage, I couldn’t help smiling. For a few glorious hours, Halifax had all the hallmarks of a miniature Rebellion Festival.
The atmosphere was remarkably similar. Old friends catching up. New friendships already forming. Young fans discovering legendary bands for the first time while those who had been there in the late seventies stood happily beside them, proving that punk isn’t defined by age, fashion or hairstyle. It’s defined by attitude, openness and a shared love of music.
I’ve been fortunate enough to photograph several concerts at The Piece Hall, and every visit reinforces my belief that it is one of Britain’s finest outdoor venues. Built in 1779 as a cloth hall at the heart of Yorkshire’s textile industry, its beautifully restored Georgian architecture now provides an extraordinary setting for live music. There was something wonderfully ironic about watching songs that once horrified politicians and newspaper editors echoing around walls originally built for merchants and commerce. Two and a half centuries later, the old building has found an entirely different purpose and long may it continue.
Mother Nature couldn’t have timed things better. After days of oppressive heat, on Saturday 11th July, Halifax was blessed with near-perfect conditions. Bright sunshine, blue skies and just enough of a breeze to make standing in the photo pit a pleasure rather than an endurance test. As the evening progressed and the sun slowly sank behind the honey-coloured stone, the venue became even more magical. You really couldn’t have asked for a finer backdrop to celebrate almost fifty years of British punk.
I’ve photographed The Undertones on several occasions and every time they somehow seem even better than the last. The same applies to Panic Shack, whose confidence and stagecraft continue to develop at an impressive rate. Curiously though, despite years spent photographing bands up and down the country, I’d never managed to tick the Sex Pistols off my own photographic bucket list.
Opening the evening were Cardiff’s Panic Shack. Self-described as a DIY pop girl group, the four-piece are completed by what they affectionately refer to as their token male drummer, who is traditionally left out of many of the band’s publicity photographs. It’s exactly the sort of tongue-in-cheek humour that sums them up perfectly. Live, however, they are far more than a novelty.
The Guardian once described their performances as combining trashy early Los Angeles punk with choreography that owes something to The Go-Go’s and Iron Maiden, and watching them explode across The Piece Hall stage, it’s hard to disagree.
One minute they’re delivering razor-sharp punk riffs, the next they’re dancing in perfect synchronisation before collapsing into glorious chaos all over again. Somehow it all makes perfect sense. Most importantly, they look like they’re having the time of their lives. That enthusiasm is utterly infectious.
I’ve been lucky enough to photograph Panic Shack before and every time I see them, they appear more confident, more accomplished and even more entertaining. They never seem to lose that sense of fun, something that immediately transfers itself to the audience. Support slots can often be a thankless task, particularly when much of the crowd is still finding their seats or heading towards the bars. Panic Shack never gave anyone the opportunity to look away.
Instead, they grabbed the occasion with both hands, winning over early arrivals while undoubtedly making plenty of new fans along the way. More importantly, they quietly reinforced the theme that would run throughout the evening. While we rightly celebrate Punk rock’s remarkable history, bands like Panic Shack are making sure its future looks every bit as exciting. Catch them if you can, you’ll be pleased you did.
As the sun began its slow descent behind the ancient walls and the shadows lengthened across the courtyard, it was time to welcome a band who need no introduction. The atmosphere lifted by another notch. The arrival of The Undertones was greeted with the sort of reception reserved for bands that have become part of the soundtrack to people’s lives.
Formed in Derry in 1975, they emerged from the same fertile period that gave us the Sex Pistols, The Clash and The Damned, yet quickly established an identity entirely of their own. Their ability to blend the urgency and attitude of Punk with irresistible melodies has ensured their songs remain every bit as fresh today as when they first burst onto the scene almost fifty years ago.
I’ve photographed The Undertones several times over the years and every performance somehow seems better than the last. Perhaps it’s because there is never any pretence. They simply walk on stage, play a catalogue of outstanding songs and allow the music to do the talking.
As the evening sunshine bathed The Piece Hall in a beautiful golden glow, classics including ‘Jimmy Jimmy‘, ‘Here Comes the Summer‘ and ‘Wednesday Week‘ transported many in the audience back to their youth, while introducing a younger generation to one of Punk’s true greats.
For me though, two songs stood above all the others. ‘My Perfect Cousin‘, still the band’s highest-charting single after reaching No.9 in 1980, had the entire courtyard singing every word, but it was ‘Teenage Kicks‘ that once again provided the evening’s most magical moment. Knowing the story of how John Peel was moved to tears when he first heard the demo in 1978 because he believed it captured something so honest and pure only adds to the song’s enduring appeal. Standing in the pit watching hundreds of voices unite beneath a perfect Yorkshire evening sky was one of those moments that simply reminds you why live music remains so special.
Although Feargal Sharkey departed when the band originally split in 1983, Paul McLoone has long since made the frontman role his own following the band’s reformation in 1999, and together they continue to do these timeless songs proud.
As the band took their final bow, daylight slowly gave way to dusk and a sense of anticipation spread around the historic courtyard. This was the moment many had travelled hundreds of miles to witness. It is easy to forget just how much outrage surrounded the Sex Pistols during those extraordinary months of 1976 and 1977.
Brought together by Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood, initially as much to promote their King’s Road boutique as to form a band, they quickly became the focus of a national moral panic. Their now infamous television appearance catapulted Punk from an underground subculture into newspaper headlines and television news bulletins almost overnight. To some they represented everything that was wrong with Britain’s youth. To many others they became heroes.
Nearly fifty years later, those songs have lost remarkably little of their impact. One of the biggest reasons for that is Frank Carter. Rather than attempting the impossible by impersonating John Lydon, Carter has approached the role entirely on his own terms. In many ways he has become the glue between punk’s past and present, respecting the legacy of the original band while injecting the songs with an energy that ensures they never feel like museum pieces. His enthusiasm is infectious and from the moment he bounded onto the stage it was obvious just how much this opportunity meant to him.
Behind him, founder members Steve Jones, Paul Cook and Glen Matlock looked equally delighted to be there. Far from simply revisiting former glories, they performed with the confidence and enjoyment of musicians who still believe wholeheartedly in the songs they created almost half a century ago.
From the opening number onwards, the atmosphere in front of the stage was everything a Punk audience could have wished for. The crowd bounced almost continuously, plastic beer glasses regularly found themselves launched skywards, and a steady stream of crowd surfers sailed over the barrier where the security team calmly guided them back to earth before they disappeared into the audience to do it all over again.
If there had been any lingering doubts about Frank Carter’s role in this latest incarnation of the Sex Pistols, they were swept away within minutes. His first real connection with the audience came during ‘Pretty Vacant’, when thousands of voices instantly took over, drowning out the PA as Carter grinned and held the microphone towards the crowd, happy to let Halifax sing every word. It set the tone for the rest of the evening. This wasn’t simply a performance to be watched; it was one everyone was expected to join.
Rarely content to stay on stage, Carter spent almost as much time in the pit as he did under the lights. At one point he perched precariously along the crash barrier, balancing on the handrails while gripping outstretched hands for support, singing face-to-face with the front rows before disappearing back into the sea of people. Throughout the set he constantly thrust the microphone into the audience, encouraging everyone to become part of the songs, while repeatedly calling for circle pits that erupted instantly before collapsing back into joyous chaos.
The defining image of the night arrived during ‘Pretty Vacant’. True to form, Carter launched himself out across the audience, trusting hundreds of hands to carry him above the packed courtyard as security shadowed his progress below. It could easily have descended into chaos, but instead it perfectly captured everything that made this performance so special. There was complete commitment from Carter, complete trust from the audience and an unspoken understanding that everyone was there to make the night unforgettable.
What impressed most wasn’t simply the energy, but the bond between performer and audience. Carter seemed able to dial the intensity up or down at will, commanding the crowd without ever losing its respect or affection.
Behind him, Steve Jones, Paul Cook and Glen Matlock looked completely at ease, allowing Carter the freedom to roam while they delivered these iconic songs with all the conviction they deserve. Rather than attempting to imitate Johnny Rotten, Carter wisely made the role his own. His performance felt authentic, respectful of the band’s legacy yet entirely rooted in his own personality, providing exactly the bridge these songs need to reach a new generation without ever feeling like a tribute act.
Songs such as ‘Holidays in the Sun’, ‘Pretty Vacant’, ‘Bodies’ and ‘God Save the Queen’ still possess an extraordinary power to ignite an audience, each greeted with the kind of reaction most modern bands can only dream of. The closer ‘Anarchy in the U.K.’ provided the perfect finale to an unforgettable evening. Watching one of the most controversial songs ever released in Britain reverberate around the magnificent surroundings of a Grade I listed building was one of those delicious contradictions that somehow made complete sense.
As the final applause echoed around The Piece Hall, there was little sign of anyone wanting the evening to end. Friends continued chatting long after the last notes had faded, many people remained in the courtyard to watch England take on Norway in the football on the giant screen, while others simply lingered to soak up the atmosphere a little longer.
Walking back through the venue, I found myself reflecting on far more than individual performances. Panic Shack had once again demonstrated why they are one of the most exciting young bands on today’s punk scene and why I believe they have a very bright future ahead of them. The Undertones reminded us that truly great songs never lose their appeal, with the Sex Pistols with Frank Carter acting as the perfect bridge between generations, proving that nearly fifty years after the Pistols first changed British music, these songs remain every bit as relevant, exciting and life-affirming.
Nearly fifty years after Punk first exploded into Britain’s consciousness, it has become about far more than rebellion. It has become a community built on friendship, inclusivity and a shared passion for live music. If this wonderful evening at The Piece Hall proved anything, it’s that while Punk may have grown older, it has never grown old. Long may that continue.
Main Photo Credit / All Photos: PHIL THORNS
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