PUBLIC IMAGE LIMITED: METAL BOX / SECOND EDITION
ALBUM REVIEW: An impossibly creative time resulted in what I argue could be the most impactful LP ever released: the genre defining Metal Box.
PUBLIC IMAGE LTD:
METAL BOX / SECOND EDITION
VIRGIN RECORDS, 1979
Three years ago, we had come out the other side of Covid lockdowns.
Russia had invaded Ukraine.
Kate Bush was resurrected through Stranger Things and Amber Herd was accusing Johnny Depp of Christ-knows-what in the divorce courts of America.
Seems like a blink of an eye ago, right?
Well, get this - in the same amount of time - between 1976 and 1979 - John Lydon had released his debut single with The Sex Pistols, basically birthed a genre, evolved it into substantial fluorescence a year later, and taken the world by storm on the back of it.
He suffered a lifetime’s worth of controversy in the process, created another entirely new form of music with the formation of a new band, Public Image Limited, in 1978, and then evolved that even further to create Metal Box - an entirely original collection of songs with no reference point other than PiL’s debut, First Issue, from the year before.
It’s staggering.
I genuinely can’t conceive of a more rapidly creative and productive time for any other artist.
If you can, please let me know.
Because to mind, Lydon’s impactful three years at the end of the 70s exceeds the inventive pace of Bowie, The Beatles or anyone else held in iconic and chameleonic regard in these days, so modern.
THREE YEARS!
It’s nothing. And yet…
What an impossibly creative time 1979 was for John Lydon, Jah Wobble, Keith Levene, and a seemingly unending string of drummers.
Not only were they inventing post-punk and insisting on its association with dub and the Avant-garde, but they improvised an entire LP, which has stood the test of time and sounds as seismically different and heart-achingly compassionate now as it did 46 years ago.
Still nothing sounds Metal Box/Second Edition.
What a huge achievement. The process they all went through to create this masterpiece was as intellectually considered as it was spontaneously delivered. The musical skills and adventurous nature of all involved should justifiably be called out as entirely unique. An incredibly special moment in time that opened the door to a more experimental and inclusive era for music.
Genuine art.
To then realise that, due to the cost of the revolutionary packaging, the songs were recorded cheaply in a variety of studios at night and down-time sessions, snatched when the opportunities presented themselves, just adds to the legacy.
That situation itself forced much of the spontaneity and improvisation that the album delivered.
And then to recognise that these songs - which sound so well-produced, spacious and clear that the recording itself feels integral to the composition - are “just” monitor mixes - is astonishing.
It genuinely blows my tiny mind.
And check out how influential it’s been - just a cursory listen to Swan Lake will show you where Danny Ash stole the blueprint for his guitar work in Bauhaus from. I don’t suggest that this is a bad thing - at all - it’s just striking, when you listen to it retrospectively.
John’s vocals obviously give the tracks a distinct identity - but remove them momentarily - and it is abundantly clear how many bands drew their inspiration from the instrumentation of Metal Box. From Killing Joke and Gang of Four through to The Butthole Surfers and even the Pixies - the influence stretches further than the band’s immediate peers. Wobble’s rolling sub-sonic melodies inspired the likes of Flea to pick up a bass, and Keith Levene’s glassy, discordant guitars spawned several generations of adventurous playing by other bands and a million awkward guitarists.
The band’s sprawling, rule-breaking song durations and abstract structures showed the world that a post-punk mentality was progressive, dynamic and truly exploratory. In the same way that punk itself shook up the status quo, PiL’s vision for music in its wake was liberated in a way that was just as tectonic and far more sophisticated.
The anger was still there, but above and below it was a range of emotion that darkened it, twisted it and spat it out as something deeper, more engaging and far more considered, despite its improvisational gestation.
There’s a lot to thank PiL for - and Metal Box in particular.
For the detail-oriented among us, I should clarify that when I refer to the LP as Metal Box, I am referring to both the first edition of it, released as a triple 45RPM LP in a pressed tin film canister, in November 1979 AND the re-jigged repressed, standard 33RPM double LP, entitled “Second Edition”, released in February 1980.
The main difference between the two versions, beyond the inaccessible tin packaging of one and the standard gatefold of the other, is the track order, which varies slightly to fit the number of discs.
In fact, even though Metal Box is the more notorious and ‘famous’ version, it is Second Edition I play most, for its easy access and for the separation of Socialist, Chant and Radio 4 into their component pieces, making them more digestible and better synchronised on Second Edition than as one long medley, filling side six of Metal Box.
With that caveat away, let’s look at the songs:
The ten-minute Albatross is the first tune - and in many ways, for me, at least, it’s the standard bearer for the entire LP. Apparently, it was a one-take studio improvisation. The nagging vocal hook of the song stays in your head long after the tune has run its course.
I’ve got a soft spot for the old adage that the lyrics refer to - nautical platitudes resonate so well - and it works here to describe Lydon’s Tabula Rasa. He’s sorting the wheat from the chaf - a theme that will run right through to 1986’s FFF on Album.
“Getting rid of the albatross
I know you very well
You are unbearable
I’ve seen you up close”
Memories, one of the oddest and most inaccessible choices in the history or rock ‘n’ roll for a seven-inch single, follows.
It still retains its bold WTF? nature in 2025 - what logic, other than Lydon’s, could consider the song as a promotional tool – and for anything other than Metal Box?
It’s a complete “Fuck You” to the record industry.
Marvelous.
The song’s contrarian nature is driven by Wobble’s rolling bassline with what genuinely sounds like a sprinkling of shards of glass from Levene’s deliberately child-like and asynchronous guitar parts adding spikey flavour.
Which is a deliberate device to make the ‘chorus’ sound so elevating when it assembles itself into a coherent centrepiece to the song.
As Lydon says so simply on record, regarding Levene: “What a talent.”
Never a truer statement made.
Death Disco/Swan Lake is next, which in many ways has become the classic track from Metal Box for lots of listeners. It was the first single from Metal Box and retains its landmark status, half a century later.
The bastardised familiarity of Levene’s guitar work, coupled with the essence of Lydon’s lyrics, written for his mother on her deathbed, delivers anguish, surprise and hooks at the same time, for a perfect snapshot of the adventurous nature of PiL at the time.
Well - that is until Poptones follows - this time, Levene takes over on drums because, interestingly, the band didn’t have a permanent drummer throughout the sessions of Metal Box. Erstwhile percussive genius Martin Atkins only joined towards the end of the recordings - but stayed through the next few iconic years of the band’s history.
Levene’s very loose drums make Poptones work so well as a meandering, sinister, drive to the woods, as Lydon’s lyrics suggest - based on a true story of a kidnapping at the time.
It’s misguiding to say so, but Poptones is by far the most “commercial” track of the LP - although the interesting story behind its words, the rolling dub of Wobble’s bass and the beautiful guitar work by Levene - should have made it an obvious choice for a single.
Perhaps that’s precisely why it wasn’t selected.
Regardless, I recommend Poptones as the track to try if you’re unfamiliar with this era of PiL and with Metal Box specifically - it’s certainly the song that hooked me into the album, way back when.
“That’s great”, I hear you say - “All well and good - but I’m hankering for some dubby proto-dance with an awkward art-rock twist!”
Then, dear reader, this next one’s for you.
Careering is the most abominable disco you have never heard. As usual, driven by Wobble’s dub - but this time, with programmed drums - alongside Levene’s sound effects, drones and sweeps - all created on their new toy - a Prophet 45 synth.
John wails over the top of the electro-garde about a Northern Irish sniper’s objectives and considerations:
“Blown into breeze
Scatter concrete
The jagged metal bad life
Manufactured
He's been careering
Is this living?
A face is raining
Across the border
The pride of history
The same as murder.”
No Birds opens the fourth side of Metal Box and it’s the first one here that really goes into the realm of advanced listening.
It didn’t click with me until I’d become super-familiar with the rest of the songs. It’s a tune without much movement and one of the most Can-like songs on the album - it rolls along pretty much incessantly from start to end, and its hypnosis ends up being its hook - but it’s not an immediate catch at all.
No Birds is followed by the instrumental Graveyard, which triggers similar points of attraction to the preceding song, but more promptly. Perhaps precisely because it has no vocals, I find myself listening to it with different ears and expectations.
The scathing The Suit opens the third record and it’s one of my favourite vocals from Lydon.
He’s singing clearly, in a lower register, which makes you follow the lyrics more closely - regarding working class people pretending to be more than they are and disregarding their origins. Its composition consists solely of drums, dub and sound effects. A tiny little piece of piano.
It stands out and becomes memorable because of its sparsity.
Bad Baby is next and feels like the first track that might be conceived as throwaway.
It’s not that it’s bad - it just doesn’t cut through the track-listing like the others so far. It works moderately more successfully on Second Edition, due to its shifted position before No Birds, but still - it’s not a standout track - amidst standout tracks.
Interestingly, it’s Martin Atkins’ debut with the band. Perhaps its marginally “meh” status with me is because Levene’s input isn’t really felt, written as it was, between Atkins and Wobble.
Side Four is a medley of three songs. They work better re-synchronised and separated on Second Edition, but we’ll continue with the sequence as it is on Metal Box…
Socialist is clearly Levene dicking about on his new synth - a Motorik beat, layered with cymbal shimmers and improvised sound effects - it’s a short and punchy instrumental that almost feels out of place, but its detached nature ends up, once again, being the reason it justifies its own existence.
Chant comes in on its heels - and I understand why it could be a favourite of hardcore PiL fans.
It is barely controlled discordant chaos - literally the only grounding factor being John’s incessant, deliberately annoying chanting of, erm… the word “Chant”.
It’s by far the noisiest and difficult song to digest on Metal Box - and in that challenge, essentially lies its adoration. The harder you work, the greater the reward - and that’s often true in music, too.
Chant is a fine example of how putting in the time yields the results - there are intricacies involved in the composition that can only possibly reveal themselves through repeated listens.
In some way it is trash. In some ways it is utter genius. Musique Concrète?
Maybe.
Finally, after one of the wildest and most unpredictable journeys you can take in pop, we come down with the snuggling climax of Radio Four - a synth-string laden, soothing response to the preceding chaos.
You can almost hear a voice, in a leotard and the lotus position soothingly commanding “and relax…”. Indeed, if you do that - close your eyes and breathe with the soothing cadence of Levene’s electronic orchestra - you really do - it’s the perfect ending to a masterful LP, delighting in its incongruousness, just like every other song that’s been presented over the past hour.
But this time it stands out because of its beauty and sweet lull.
Nigh on half a century after it was created, Metal Box/Second Edition still sounds like one of the most modern and adventurous records you can listen to. Hooky enough to stay with you for life, abstract enough to challenge you for the same amount of time and so intrinsically satisfying to “get” and absorb.
That it was all created in sporadic, improvised sessions, just emphasises it wonder - and indeed - makes one question whether the process of rehearsal and the relentless tightening of typical songwriting processes contributes to their lack of staying power.
There are strikingly few LPs that can feels as relevant now as they were when they were released in such a dim and distant past. It would interesting to see how many of them were created with spontaneity in mind, if not full on-the-spot improvisation. I imagine quite a few.
Perhaps that’s part of the secret to standing the test of time. Perhaps it introduces a lack of conformity and predictability that always ensures you’re kept on your toes and surprised by what comes next.
In fact, that could be the secret to life itself, let alone longevity in the music industry.
Maybe, maybe not.
What I AM sure about is that John Lydon’s third LP in as many years is just as culturally groundbreaking - if not moreso - than the two that came before it.
I don’t believe it’s possible for one person to ever have that seismic impact again. We’re too saturated - and too adept at expecting the unexpected - for the impact of another Metal Box to ever hit us again with such undiluted force.
Of course, Metal Box is a sum of its parts and I’m not underplaying the contributions of Levene, Waddle and drummers Atkins, Humphrey and Dudanski, but Pil is John’s baby.
He is the heart of metal box and is the one ultimately responsible for its legacy and status.
He remains its figurehead, standard bearer and creative instigator. The artist.
I am meeting the good man this year on his spoken word tour, as well as seeing the band play again in the summer - and I can’t wait for either of them.
There is no one as special as John Lydon - forget the performance, the arrogance, the twaddle - and judge him on his impact.
The man is Deity of Discordance and deserves all of our respect, despite his probable denial of all of it. It’s also clear that age has revealed his sentimental heart of gold, so there’s nothing not to love.
Speaking of which, I will love this album until the day I die - and there are worse things you can do to my bloated corpse than bury it in a Metal Box.
Ave, Audionauts!
Keith Levene was criminally underrated as a guitarist.
This is the best kind of music writing - the sort that makes me want to listen to the music you're writing about.
Two things:
1. Maybe Lydon matched the Beatles and Bowie in terms of "incredible restless innovation in a short period of time", but I do not think he surpassed them. The Beatles did EVERYTHING - their entire world-changing career - in just seven years. More than twice as long as the Lydon period you're covering here, sure. But to go from Rubber Soul (65) to Revolver (66) to Sgt Pepper (67), to The White Album (68) to Abbey Road (69) - that's a revolution a year, for five years. And Bowie went from glam rock to plastic soul to austere Germanic art rock in five equally breathless years. If you want further examples of artists who changed everything once a year for a number of years, look to the careers of John Coltrane and Miles Davis.
2. I remember once reading, very likely as an aside in some Q Magazine feature, that manic depressive inmates in certain asylums were played sections of Metal Box, to show them that they were not alone, that others were out there suffering like them. Do you know anything about this?