John Lydon: The Odds of Re-Joining the Sex Pistols are in the ‘Minus Infinities’

C ontrary to any prejudices you may have about John Lydon, the former Johnny Rotten’s favorite choice of beverage is pineapple juice. In the middle of a Zoom call from his London home, where he reports he’s been “boiling alive” as England experiences a heat wave, Lydon pauses the proceedings for a refreshing refill. “Heeeere’s Johnny,” he snarls when he returns. And after a swig of the fruity nectar, he proclaims, “It cleanses the system,” while flashing a toothy grimace.

Lydon, best known as the Sex Pistols’ loudmouthed voice of punk anarchy and Public Image Ltd.’s caterwauling proclaimer that anger is an energy, turned 70 in January, but in many ways he’s still the same scabrous truth gobber he always was. He still sports plaid made of clashing colors (today, a variety of blues with … salmon?) and maintains a shock of red hair, which complements well his most prominent sign of aging: uncharacteristically rose-tinted glasses. He also still smokes like a chimney.

“Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?” he chortles between cigarette puffs. “I’d rather die early and happy, than a 90-year-old in misery, chewing his fingernails. I ignored all the medical advice in the world. So I intend to continue the same way.”

And continue he does. Public Image Ltd. are square in the middle of their busiest year in decades. They’ve already played three dozen concerts, mostly in Europe and South America, and they have two dozen more dates for what they’ve dubbed “This Is Not the Last Tour” booked for North America, beginning this summer. They have plenty more dates scheduled for other continents next year, too.

“I think live Public Image is a ferocious band,” Lydon says. And, he adds, he still gets a blast out of performing. “I feel fear, torment, anxiety, self-doubt, all of those things before I actually get onstage. But then once onstage, you drop all the ego and all of that trepidation — there’s a nice word — and you pile into it and you find that that’s where you truly belong. Editor’s picks The 250 Greatest Albums of the 21st Century So Far The 100 Best TV Episodes of All Time The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time 100 Best Movies of the 21st Century

“If anyone could say they were doing God’s work, it will be me at that point of a concert,” he says with a laugh, before adding, “I have a very bizarre interpretation of God, I know.”

This year, PiL are also putting out a live album, Alive, and they’ve begun recording their next LP, whose working title, Lydon says, grinning, is AI: Actual Intelligence (he emphasizes “actual”). The band holed up in Portugal earlier this year and wrote about 20 songs. “The musical direction is all over the gaff,” Lydon says. “Purists would find that very annoying, but fuck off, purists. Go form your own band.”

They’ll polish off 10 or so new songs in London this year with the help of Oasis’ Noel Gallagher, who offered up his studio to the band. “We landed well with that fellow,” Lydon says. But when asked if he has ever said anything negative about Oasis, since Lydon can be cutting when talking about other bands, he chuckles, “None so that he’s noticed unfavorably.”

The new album will be PiL’s first since releasing End of World, which included the serene “Hawaii,” their contribution to Eurovision, in 2023. It will also be their first new record since the deaths that year of two of the people closest to Lydon: his wife, Nora Forster, and his best friend, PiL manager, John “Rambo” Stevens. Needless to say, Lydon has been through a lot in the decade since PiL’s last big U.S. tour (including a vicious legal battle with his onetime Sex Pistols bandmates, who have elected to carry on with new singer Frank Carter in his place), and, as he tells Rolling Stone, he feels like a different person even if he has the same old vices.

“I’ve got strength in me now that I didn’t know was there,” Lydon says, reflecting on rebuilding his life in the midst of grief, during an hour-long conversation with Rolling Stone. “I have a sense of yearning to work, create, go out and do things, which I couldn’t before because I couldn’t leave her alone.” Related Content Riot Fest’s Wonderfully Chaotic 2026 Lineup Boasts Alanis Morissette, Morrissey, Nas, and More Glen Matlock’s ‘I Was a Teenage Sex Pistol’ Documentary Tells His Side of the Punk Saga Marshall and the Sex Pistols' Limited-Edition Amp Is as Loud as It Gets Sex Pistols and Frank Carter Reschedule ‘Never Mind the Bollocks’ Tour

Public Image Ltd. have more concerts booked this year than any year since 1989. Why do you want to be so busy?Well, everyone I know went and died on me, so there was no point in hanging around at home [laughs]. I know that’s putting it rather callously, but my wife passed away and then my best mate, who was our manager, died. I spent almost a year just wallowing in it, and I’d had enough.

That kind of self-pity is all right; you’re not in control of it. But there does come a point where I’ve got to escape the self-imposed misery. When I thought I’d got away with enough of that, it was time to get up and move to Beverly or wherever you hitch your wagon next.

When did it feel right to you to move forward?It doesn’t happen overnight. It’s just there it is; suddenly, you’re writing a new song, and you hadn’t even thought about it, and then you just continue from there. Writing new songs is the only thing I’ve ever been any good at all my life.

How have you felt performing live with PiL again and recording the new album?I like working hard, and the harder, the better. The more exhausted I am, the more I seem to enjoy it. It’s like conquering a thing inside yourself that needs to be conquered.

How difficult was it slowing down for all those years you were taking care of Nora?We tried hiring her private nurses and things for a bit, and no, no, no, I seen the cruelty going on and I couldn’t have it, couldn’t tolerate it. They weren’t treating her with proper respect, and she had to know that she was dying at home in a happy way with people that truly loved her. That’s why I wrote “Hawaii.” I recorded it live in Ireland, which they then put forth that silly Eurovision thing.

Oh, my gosh, when I played it to her, she said, “It’s a nice song, but why are you crying? You ruined it.” What a glorious statement from her. It totally expresses her and her personality and also that sly sense of wit is in there. She’s way ahead of the rest of the German nation by a long way.

I’m glad you could spend that time with her.Yes. And I learned lots about myself doing so.

What did you learn?If I wasn’t making music right now, I think I’d go into caring for people. The key to caring for people is not to just wheel them in front of a TV and ignore them, but to keep up a continual line of fun and humor and not to ask questions. That’s the biggest crime of all. “How are you? Are you all right?” Stop that nonsense. They’ll tell you if they want something. Do the old show business refrain: “Make them laugh, make them laugh.”

You also have your bandmates looking after you. Lu Edmonds, who played on 1987’s Happy?, rejoined the band in 2009 and has been PiL’s guitarist for longer than anyone else at this point. Why have things worked out so well with him?Oh, because like me, he’s not what you would call “normal.” No one in this band is. We’re all viewed as rejects slightly by a music industry that doesn’t like people that won’t play the traditional patterns. I’m bored with that. I want to shapeshift things around. It’s a really misused word, but we’re experimental.

What music do you listen to most these days?Anything and everything, but it’s usually lyric-based. I like the words to have content and meaning in order for me to swim merrily inside that. Generally, I just adore pop music. I love its trashy wastefulness. Somehow or the other, that’s the teenage angst in there and I can immediately relate to that.

Why should we have all the answers? Hello? We’ve got politicians to blame for that.

The topic of politics has earned you some headlines lately. People think you’re MAGA, because of comments you made about Trump. Is that the case?Let them say what they like. I don’t like no politician, but I got into this situation I started myself. Someone said, “What do you think of Trump?” Off the top of my head, I said, “I think he’s the Sex Pistols of politics.” It sounded hilarious to me at the time, but people took it serious, and it just went on from there. So what can you do?