Sid Vicious, January 14, 1978, Winterland
Photography and commentary by Michael Zagaris

“One of the all-time greatest shows I’ve ever seen. I’d put it in the top—if not the top three, the top five; maybe with like James Brown at the Howard Theater in DC in ’65 and one of the Stones’ ’72 tour shows. The Sex Pistols had taken the UK by storm; the punk scene was really starting to break out then. I had heard the album, but it didn’t translate. It’s like hearing the first Dead album if you hadn’t seen the Dead. You’d see about a 30-second clip on CBS news, and the sound’s awful and it looks like these guys are just derelicts; and I thought, ‘Fuck the Sex Pistols.’ And then Rolling Stone called up and said, ‘Hey, look, the Sex Pistols are playing at Winterland. It’s going to be their last show… they’re supposed to be breaking up. We want you to cover it.’ So I showed up—this is January of 1978, and it was a rainy, cold day; and I remember going to Winterland and their tour bus had just pulled up. I’m standing at the backstage door of Winterland, and they got out and the way they were walking in—I could tell who they were and by their swagger that they didn’t give a fuck. I thought, ‘Wow. Wait a minute. This is going to be a great show.’ Then that night, the lobby of Winterland—you could feel it, you could feel it in your stomach; it was like magic. There were people there that you’d never seen before and your thought was ‘What the fuck? Where are these people from? What do they do in real life?’ This was all about lifestyle and the attitude. And it was—the whole punk scene came up from LA, I remember. Going back through the pictures of the lobby later on, it was John Doe mixing, and the Germs; and Mike Plummer, who managed Chris Isaac—he had his eyes all blackened, and he was into that whole thing.

“The Sex Pistols came out and they fucking killed. The show was incendiary. There was sweat dripping off the walls. I mean, from the time they took the stage and were playing, people were—not one or two—30 people were going [makes hocking sound], spitting lugers up on the stage; bottles, a fucking shoe!—constant pandemonium. It was like an ongoing riot. I was swept off my feet a couple times, you know, just trying to get everything.

“Syd was all bandaged and cut up, ‘cause they’d come from that gig in Texas, where they were booked into a cowboy bar, and when they came out—they were fucked up and Syd’s smacked out—they started playing, and people were going ‘Get the fuck off the stage, you fucking limey faggots, you motherfuckers!’ And they started throwing bottles of beer that would hit the stage and break; and Syd’s playing bass, but he picked up one of the bottles and slashed himself enough so he’s bleeding: The fucking place grew quiet. They were like, ‘Who the fuck are these guys…?’

“You can see the bandages and everything; when they were done they left and it was just all this stuff—you know, ‘more!’ and people screaming. I remember Johnny grabbed the microphone and said [in British accent] ‘Don’t you all feel cheated?’ threw it down, and that was it. It was like ‘whoa.’

“After the show everybody’s exhausted. So we go backstage and the whole punk scene in the city was back there. I see Britt Ekland… she was with Slim Jim of the Stray Cats; and Penny Frampton (you know Peter Frampton), Peter’s girlfriend, came up with Neil Preston. Well, all of a sudden Syd reappears. And I heard he’d shot up with this girl named Ivy. He comes out of the room and his eyes are red and watery, his nose is runny, and he’s got this ciggy… and he sees Britt Ekland, and he just fucking hurls. Gets part of the bottom of her coat and things, and we’re like ‘Whoa! This is so punk, this is so great.’

“And it was—it was just an incredible night; it was like the end of the world. My thought was, ‘Fuck, if it’s the end, then I’m glad I’m here for it.’ Bill Graham was, you know, ‘Who threw that? I see who you are…’ But there was nothing he could do, you know. I mean it would be like a cop trying to stop 18 bicycle messengers from assaulting a motorist. You can go in and try to make an arrest, but you better have heavy back-up; it’s not like you can say, ‘Okay, you’re under arrest,’ and they’ll go, ‘Okay guys, you got me,’ you know; it’s like ‘fucking bring it.’”

See more photography by Michael Zagaris