Live Review: PiL, We Set Sail

Talk about an unenviable opening slot, while the crowd feverishly talks about a TV show they don't watch because it's not actual news, local post-hardcore/rock ensemble We Set Sail have to do their thing, and they do it adroitly across a set of sometimes-ethereal jams.

The controversy hangs thick in the air as Public Image Limited take to the stage. Hours earlier front man John Lydon was called a 'sexist, misogynist pig' on national TV for refusing to offer up, on command, a particularly salacious slander against a dead person. Well… it was for that, in addition to being a rude asshole. But now Lydon's in control of the proceedings and that's obviously how he likes, needs, it to be. Getting in a sardonic but respectful-by-comparison shout out to Mags before the first song is over, the man who refers to himself as The John saves up the bulk of his bile for Australian infotainment talk show hosts.

After that, it's on with the show. Nobody's here to listen to a catfight; we all get enough of that on the internet. And when he's behind a microphone, in the midst of one of PiL's sprawling post-punk happenings, Lydon can't utter any of his belligerent claptrap that only serves to remind everybody exactly why he was left behind and cast off as a causality of pop culture's progress. Instead, the crowd witnesses Lydon the musician, a passionate performer and brilliant ring leader for PiL's circus. Sure, it's a bit ridiculous that Lydon's microphone is behind a music stand (when around 30 per cent of your lyrics are gibberish and a mess of nonsensical, wonderful, throaty gargles, do you really need the words in front of you?) but his voice can still capture the imagination of an entire room.

Even though Lydon has a group of hired guns playing as PiL, they live up to the band's incredible legacy. They capture a sense of spontaneity and creativity during songs like Albatross, which is stretched out to a captivating, transcendental 15 minute jam. Tonight's rhythm section proves particularly adept, finding a sweet spot where the grooves of dance music co-exist harmoniously with rock & roll's experimentalism, and the crowd response to the band swells as the set progresses. Warrior comes across like a hulking, 'roided up counterpart of the track on 1989's 9 and signature tunes like (This Is Not A) Love Song and Public Image absolutely bring the house down.

Sexist pig? Misunderstood provocateur? Doddering blowhard? As long as John Lydon can perform shows like he does tonight, keep old white people dancing in a euphoric haze of memories from 'that one trip to Ibiza', is it really going to make much of a difference?