By Vlad T, Rock At Night Detroit and Chyrisse Tabone, Rock At Night Tampa

Live Review: Sex Pistols with Bad Nerves, Fillmore-Detroit – October 3, 2026

When a legacy punk institution hits the stage, the ghost of nostalgia always looms large. But last night at a packed Fillmore Detroit, the Sex Pistols—bolstered by the vitality and voice of Frank Carter—proved that punk rock is a living, breathing, and relevant entity.

The Engine Room and the Frontman

From the opening notes, the night was defined by the iron-clad chemistry between the band’s foundational members and their powerhouse vocalist. Guitarist Steve Jones, drummer Paul Cook, and bassist Glen Matlock played with a muscular, unyielding precision. There was no rust on display; Jonesy’s guitar chords cut through the room with trademark snarl, Cook’s drums drove the tempo with efficient, relentless force, and the ever-stylish Matlock’s bass lines anchored the chaos with aplomb.

Stepping into the colossal shoes of fronting the Sex Pistols is no small feat, yet Frank Carter handled it like he was born for the role. Carter’s voice was a weapon—shouting, crooning, and snarling with a visceral depth that kept the hall on edge. His on-stage vitality was infectious; he paced the stage like a caged animal, engaging with all tiers of the audience, and spent as almost as much time among the punters as he did on the boards.

(In contrast, the erstwhile original lead singer, known more these days for adverts for a UK butter brand and his dismissal of the current iteration of the Pistols as “karaoke,” very recently played a PIL set at St. Andrews that was remarkable only for its on-stage inertia and a prickly elderly bitterness. I won’t even get into his singing lyrics from a songbook…)

Setlist Highlights and Classic Delivery

Drawing heavily from Never Mind the Bollocks, the setlist was a relentless barrage of milestones that sounded astonishingly vital half a century on. Launching straight out of the gate with the marching-boot rhythm of “Holidays in the Sun” immediately established that the band meant business, while mainstays like “Pretty Vacant” and “Seventeen” crackled with a juvenile delinquency that somehow translated seamlessly to the present day. Mid-set tentpoles like “Bodies” and “God Save the Queen” bristled with white-hot venom, proving that the lyrics still carry their original, anti-establishment sting. Carter didn’t mimic the past; he inhabited it, breathing a fiery, modern lungs- and-throat urgency into every single track while the legendary rhythm section locked down the groove with unshakeable authority.

Nodding to Detroit and Keeping the Peace

In a brilliant tip of the cap to Motor City’s legendary rock history, the band tore into a fierce rendition of The Stooges’

“No Fun.” Dusting off the track—an early staple of the Pistols’ 1970s setlists—felt entirely natural in Detroit, bridging the gap between protopunk royalty and UK punk pioneers.

Just as notable as the setlist was the atmosphere in the room. In a refreshing nod to modern inclusivity and safety, Carter paused the chaos to insist on carving out a dedicated, ladies-only space in the moshpit. It was a thoughtful, progressive touch that allowed female fans to fully throw themselves into the physical frenzy of the show without facing unwanted harassment. It proved that the communal, protective ethos of true punk culture can evolve while keeping its teeth intact.

High-Voltage Opening

Setting the tone for the evening was Essex power-pop quintet Bad Nerves. Delivering a blistering, high-velocity set of hook-laden garage punk, they hit the stage like a shot of adrenaline. Their frantic pacing and infectious melodies earned an enthusiastic response from the early Detroit crowd, making them the ultimate modern warm-up for the chaos that followed.

By the time the final chords rang out, it was clear: this wasn’t a historical reenactment or a cynical cash-in. It was loud, sweaty, dangerous, and brilliantly alive.

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