On paper, Generation Sex looks like the ideal opening act for a Guns N' Roses stadium show. The line-up alone is enough to make any fan of British punk do a double take. Billy Idol fronts the band, Steve Jones handles guitar duties, while Tony James and Paul Cook complete a rhythm section that carries decades of rock-and-roll history between them. Add a catalogue drawn from Generation X and the Sex Pistols and the ingredients for a triumphant performance are all present.
Which is what makes the reality so perplexing.
For much of the set, Generation Sex struggles to transform its formidable pedigree into genuine momentum. The songs are undeniable, the musicians are experienced and the audience is certainly willing to be won over, yet something never quite clicks. Billy Idol attacks the material with his customary enthusiasm, Jones still generates enormous power from even the simplest riffs and the rhythm section remains rock solid. Individually, the components function exactly as expected. Collectively, however, they spend most of the evening feeling strangely disconnected.
It is not a question of effort. Nobody on stage appears disengaged. Nor is it a question of repertoire. Few opening acts can call upon songs of this calibre. Yet the performance never develops the sense of danger, excitement or spontaneity that made this music so revolutionary in the first place. Instead, it unfolds with an oddly mechanical quality, as though the band is dutifully running through material that should be setting the place on fire.
Then, almost absurdly, everything changes.
A technical failure knocks out the PA system, bringing proceedings to an unexpected halt. When power is eventually restored, the atmosphere shifts dramatically. Whether the interruption jolts the musicians awake, loosens the crowd or simply injects an element of unpredictability into the evening is impossible to say. Whatever the cause, the final stretch of the set suddenly comes alive. The classics land with the force they should have carried all along, and for a few glorious minutes the promise of Generation Sex is fully realised.
Unfortunately, by that point the finish line is already in sight.
As a result, the band's final performance of the tour, and possibly its final performance altogether, leaves behind mixed feelings. There are flashes of brilliance, reminders of the immense talent assembled on stage and tantalising glimpses of what might have been. Yet those moments arrive too late to fully redeem the preceding hour.
Still, there is something oddly appropriate about it all. A punk-rock supergroup packed with legends, bursting into life only after a technical disaster and leaving the stage with the audience wondering what could have been. In its own frustrating way, that may be the most punk-rock ending imaginable.
