Before he became the Sex Pistols’ guitarist and the man responsible for some of punk’s most killer riffs,
a teenage Steve Jones emerged from the
streets of West London armed with a Roxy Music obsession and a penchant for petty larceny.
His timing and geography were perfect. He found his way to a shop on the corner of The King’s Road and was soon surrounded by Chrissie Hynde, Johnny Rotten,
Malcolm McLaren and a slew of others who would soon became household names – and public enemy number one – by selling their souls to punk.
In Lonely Boy, Jones’ tells his story with all of the humour and honesty you’d expect,
covering not only his service as a Sex Pistol but the occasionally bumpy path he followed once the band imploded.
Jeffdaniels.com introduces you to the music man with a typically elaborate introduction to the sounds within.
“Welcome to the musical side of myself,” it coaxes,
“Through this little portal into the digital universe and with a singular focus on
the songs that continue to pour out of my pores,
take my hand as I valiantly meander my way towards something yet to be defined and, more than likely, never will be.” Deep.
I’m used to making entirely new stuff for every single show – now it would
be weird to play a gig where I didn’t play the tunes that people know, and I
love seeing people singing the words.
So there’s that, and the change I’ve made to my lifestyle.
We’ve played 30- odd shows and I’ve done loads of press, chatting to people about myself, which it turns out I can narcissistically do all day long.
I think I even melodramatically said that I hope it changes my life in
some way, and it really has… God, is that too cheesy? It is, isn’t it.
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