In the ever-evolving landscape of rock music, few figures have sparked as much controversy and conversation as John Lydon, the man once known to the world as Johnny Rotten. As the frontman of the Sex Pistols and later the creative force behind Public Image Ltd (PiL), Lydon has never shied away from challenging musical norms or voicing his unfiltered opinions. Recently, his pointed critique of progressive rock titans Yes and Emerson, Lake and Palmer has reignited debates about the soul and direction of rock ‘n’ roll, while his ongoing artistic journey continues to draw comparisons with other legendary frontmen, notably Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin.
According to Far Out Magazine, Lydon didn’t mince words when reflecting on the state of rock before the punk explosion. He recalled, “All of us were very bored and frustrated with everything in music at that time because all you had was Yes and bloody Emerson Lake and bloody Palmer. It really did look at that time like the end of rock ‘n’ roll, if you want to call it that because rock ‘n’ roll did become flappy flared trouser stuff and posturing and ridiculousness.” Lydon’s frustration was rooted in the belief that progressive rock had become overly theatrical and complex, straying far from the music’s raw, rebellious origins. For him, bands like Yes and Emerson, Lake and Palmer were emblematic of a genre that had lost its way, trading simplicity and energy for grandiose concepts and technical wizardry.
Before punk’s arrival, the rock charts were indeed dominated by the likes of Yes and Pink Floyd, groups whose elaborate albums and stage shows seemed a world apart from the genre’s early days. Lydon, never one to pull punches, felt that this shift represented a betrayal of rock’s foundational spirit. As Far Out Magazine noted, he saw it as a move away from the “simplistic arrangements that Chuck Berry preached about,” and he made it his mission to bring the music back to its roots. The Sex Pistols, with their explosive anthems like ‘Anarchy in the UK’, embodied this philosophy, proving that a handful of chords and a whole lot of attitude could shake the world far more than any 20-minute prog epic.
Lydon’s disdain for the excesses of progressive rock was perhaps most evident in his take on albums like Yes’s ‘Tales from Topographic Oceans’. He saw such works as overblown, likening them to classical compositions masquerading as rock. “This was rock and roll if it were made by classical musicians, which may as well have been a cardinal sin for Lydon,” Far Out Magazine observed. For him, the essence of rock lay in its immediacy and its ability to serve as an escape from the polished, professional side of recording—a quality he believed had been lost amid the genre’s evolution.
Yet, as the years have passed, Lydon’s own career has demonstrated a remarkable capacity for reinvention and influence. After leaving the Sex Pistols in early 1978, he formed PiL, a band that, according to The Guardian, “pretty much invented post-punk even as everyone else was still catching up with punk.” While Lydon never fully shed his Rotten persona—finding it “far too useful”—he consistently pushed musical boundaries, embracing abrasive sounds and experimental approaches that kept audiences on their toes.
The contrasts between Lydon and his contemporaries are perhaps best illustrated by a recent double-bill of sorts: on January 7, 2026, Robert Plant performed at the Royal Festival Hall, while PiL took the stage at the O2 Forum Kentish Town. The Guardian’s account of these gigs paints a vivid picture of two artists with ambivalent relationships to their storied pasts. Plant, once the golden-haired “golden god” of Led Zeppelin, has in recent years gravitated toward folk and Americana, performing with a band of expert acoustic musicians and revisiting Zeppelin classics like ‘Ramble On’, ‘Four Sticks’, ‘Friends’, and ‘The Rain Song’.
Plant’s set, while beautifully rendered, was described as “oddly sterile”—a polished, professional showcase that, for all its technical excellence, lacked a certain spark. The reviewer noted, “Beneath the hippy lies a consummate pro who knows exactly how to deliver a show – and has done for decades. I left Plant’s gig content.” In contrast, PiL’s performance, though featuring no material more recent than 2015, left the audience “excited.” Lydon’s set included ‘Poptones’, a 1979 track lauded for both its music and its haunting lyrics. The song, inspired by a news story about an abducted girl, showcased Lydon’s willingness to tackle dark, unsettling themes: “Drive to the forest in a Japanese car. The smell of rubber on country tar/ Hindsight does me no good/ Standing naked in the back of the woods/ The cassette played – Poptones.”
Despite the chaos—Lydon’s onstage cigarette breaks, the band’s confusion during the encore—there was an undeniable energy to PiL’s show that set it apart from Plant’s more measured performance. As the reviewer put it, “Lydon remains a very necessary irritant.” That sense of unpredictability, of refusing to become a comfortable nostalgia act, is perhaps what continues to make Lydon such a compelling figure in the world of rock.
Interestingly, both Lydon and Plant have, in their own ways, circled back to the music that first inspired them. Plant, after decades of searching, has embraced the folk and West Coast sounds he loved before Led Zeppelin, while Lydon, even as he’s experimented and evolved, has never strayed far from the raw aggression that defined his early work. Their paths have even crossed musically: in the 1980s, PiL would open shows with an instrumental cover of Zeppelin’s ‘Kashmir’, and both bands have explored eastern tunings and droning soundscapes.
Yet, for all their similarities, the gulf between their approaches remains wide. Plant’s shows are meticulously crafted, offering a sense of closure and satisfaction. Lydon’s, on the other hand, are unpredictable and provocative, challenging audiences to confront uncomfortable truths and reminding them that rock ‘n’ roll, at its core, is about more than just entertainment—it’s about disruption, rebellion, and the refusal to settle.
As the dust settles on their latest performances, the debate over the true spirit of rock ‘n’ roll rages on. Lydon’s critiques of progressive rock may be harsh, but they speak to a deeper yearning for authenticity and immediacy in music—a yearning that, for many fans, punk answered in ways that no other genre could. Whether one prefers the polished perfection of Plant or the raw edge of Lydon, there’s no denying the enduring impact of these two icons on the shape and sound of modern rock.
In a world where nostalgia often threatens to overshadow innovation, the contrasting legacies of John Lydon and Robert Plant serve as a powerful reminder that the beating heart of rock ‘n’ roll still thrives on risk, reinvention, and a healthy dose of irreverence.