How Buzzcocks’ approach to punk set them apart from their peers

Transmission 159: Interview with Buzzcocks

Buzzcocks arrived in the wake of punk’s initial detonation, but their contribution to the movement was anything but a footnote. While their contemporaries in the Sex Pistols thrived on nihilism and The Clash carried the weight of politics, Buzzcocks injected raw urgency into sharp, melodic bursts, proving that immediacy and emotional depth could co-exist. Formed in Manchester in 1976, their early incarnation—spearheaded by Howard Devoto and Pete Shelley—channeled the jagged energy of The Velvet Underground and The Stooges, but Devoto’s exit after the self-released Spiral Scratch EP left Shelley at the helm, reshaping the band’s trajectory.

What followed was a string of records that defined a new kind of intensity—hook-laden but restless, existential but unpretentious. Tracks like “Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve)” and “What Do I Get?” turned romantic frustration into anthems, each song a controlled explosion of anxiety wrapped in melody. While The Ramones streamlined punk into a relentless sprint, Buzzcocks played with contrasts, shifting gears between speed and melancholy, distortion and clarity. Their influence rippled through post-punk, indie, and beyond, but even with a legacy cemented in British music history, they never treated themselves as a relic.

With Sonics in the Soul, the first album following Pete Shelley’s passing, Steve Diggle pushed forward, carrying the spirit of Buzzcocks while expanding their sound. In this interview, Diggle revisits the band’s origins, the early days of punk, and the moments that shaped their music, while offering a glimpse into what’s next. Steve Diggle retraces this history in Autonomy: Portrait of a Buzzcock, offering a firsthand account of the band’s formation, the energy of the early punk scene, and the decades of reinvention that followed.

What was the first spark that led you to pick up an instrument and start making music?

I think, well, when I was growing up, there was Little Richard, Chuck Berry, The Beatles, The Kinks, all these 50s and 60s groups. I’d see them, and one day I bought a guitar, wanting to be like them. There was a lot of pop culture around then, so I thought, “I’ll have a go at the guitar,” and realized there are things in the world you want to talk or sing about, so you start writing your own songs on a guitar.

What do you remember about the first meeting between Pete Shelley and Howard Devoto? Was there an immediate creative spark or did things develop gradually?

What happened was, I was at home writing songs. I’d written “Fast Cars” and a few others, and tried them out with a couple of people near me, but they didn’t seem that good. I called a guy from the paper and said, “I’ll meet you outside the Free Trade Hall in Manchester.” The Sex Pistols were playing that night, and Malcolm McLaren was outside. He said, “They’re inside here, inside the Free Trade Hall.” I said, “No, I’m going to meet someone to form a band,” and he said, “No, come in, they’re in here.” So Pete Shelley was collecting tickets on the door for the Sex Pistols show, expecting to meet somebody else. The person I was supposed to meet and the person they were expecting never showed, and they met me instead. We got on really well. Howard was there too, so we all met at that gig at the Free Trade Hall in Manchester. The next day we plugged into one amplifier and started singing the songs. That’s how we met. It was magical, all of us going through one tiny amp, but you knew the songs were good and it was exciting. It was a great moment. From then on, we knew we had the band, the Buzzcocks.

What kind of music were you listening to before punk exploded? Were there any unexpected influences?

It was all kinds of things. Chuck Berry, Little Richard were exciting, then The Kinks, The Beatles, The Who, plus The Velvet Underground. Later, I heard about The Stooges, Iggy Pop, MC5, and so on. When we got together, we knew all about that stuff – Bowie and Eno and all the different eras of music as you’re growing up. I was coming up for being 20 years old, and when we all got together, we made this magic called Buzzcocks, which seemed, particularly at the time, quite different from everybody else.

The Ramones’ album had just come out, so that was an influence, but we took it in our own way.  When we first played in New York, the Ramones came to see us and said, “You guys take it into all these areas,” because they were more straight ahead, but we had other things going on in our songs, which they loved. That was a compliment, and we realized the Buzzcocks had a unique sound—only one band sounds like the Buzzcocks. A lot of bands ended up influenced by us, which is a compliment we never set out for, but we had that distinct sound.

Did you see yourselves as part of a movement, or was it more about capturing the energy of the moment?

When we started in Britain, we began two days before The Clash. The Sex Pistols had just started, along with The Damned and The Jam. In 1976, that was the nucleus of Punk Rock – there weren’t any other bands, and the rest came a little later. We were part of a scene, and we all knew each other because we started doing gigs together.

Initially, it was this idea of punk, but each band soon found its own identity. The Clash became The Clash, the Buzzcocks became the Buzzcocks. At first, people thought, “Oh, Punk Rock, it’s all the same,” and they didn’t know the difference between one band and another. But each band defined their own style as it developed.

We were part of that movement at the beginning, but then we wanted to go our own way. We carried on and defined what Buzzcocks is by making great records. We weren’t really part of anything then – we’d come from that place, but we also invented that place, along with the Pistols and the Clash. It just evolved; it wasn’t a conscious or deliberate thing.

There were no rules. We didn’t want people saying, “You can’t do this” or “You can’t do that musically” because that’s not what Punk Rock allows you to do. The Buzzcocks always had great songs that were different from any other band at that time.

What were the biggest obstacles in those early days, both musically and logistically?

In the UK, when we first put out “Boredom” and “Breakdown” on Spiral Scratch, the local radio station played it once, then threw it across the room and said, “That’s rubbish, we’ll never play it again.” A few weeks later, they started playing it. Punk Rock was anti-commercial at the time, and nobody had heard anything like it. The obstacles were getting people to understand what was going on. Then they realized it was exciting music with lyrics that mattered, and it ignited the country. Everywhere we went, it was fresh and exciting. The main obstacle was getting people to understand it at first, but once they got it, everything changed.

Initially, people thought it was just noise and rubbish, which was actually good because it shocked them. Eventually, they realized this was exciting music with something meaningful to say. The whole world changed with this music – it became exciting, which was what the world needed at that time, and still does really.

What was your first encounter with a major label like? Did they get what you were doing, or did you feel you had to fight for creative control?

We put our first single out ourselves, but because we were touring, we couldn’t keep running a label. Many record companies were offering deals, and we took our time signing. The Clash signed to CBS and said the label tried to control them. When we signed, we said we’d only do it if we had artistic control. Andrew Lauder at United Artists understood us, so they gave us complete artistic control. Our first single was “Orgasm Addict,” and the pressing plant refused to press it. The release was delayed because they said, “We’re not printing this filth.” It was new and shocking back then. It took three weeks for the label to persuade them to press it as art. That was the only big problem. Eventually, they pressed it, and it became legendary.

How did it feel the first time you played the U.S., knowing how much influence British punk was starting to have across the Atlantic?

We were doing very well in Britain and Europe, and it took us two years to get to the United States. When we got there, it was amazing because American audiences had been waiting for us. In Los Angeles, we played the Santa Monica Civic, about 6,000 people, and sold it out. 

It was very exciting – audiences were saying, “At last, we’ve been listening to Buzzcocks, and now we can come and see you.” America understood us. The American audiences got what Buzzcocks were doing – the excitement, the distorted guitars. They always loved us, and we loved them. It was amazing because some British bands didn’t make it much in the States, but they always loved us and understood us.

Can you recall any particularly chaotic or memorable studio sessions from the early albums?

When we made our first album, Another Music in a Different Kitchen, we recorded at Olympic Studios in Barnes, London. It was magical—our first album, and the Rolling Stones had recorded there. That’s where Sympathy for the Devil (the Jean-Luc Godard film) was shot. There were colored screens for isolating amps, the same ones the Stones used. Led Zeppelin recorded there too. It had so much history. We had these little 18-inch combo amps in a huge room meant for an orchestra. 

There’s a photo on the Singles Going Steady album of us in that studio. We did much of it live, then overdubbed the riffs and vocals. It was quick, fast, and exciting. We knew the first album was strong. It had fast songs like “Fast Cars,” more experimental ones like “Autonomy” and “Moving Away from the Pulsebeat,” and poppier tracks like “I Need” and “I Don’t Mind.” That mix gave us identity.

Were there songs that got scrapped or lost along the way that you wish had seen the light of day?

A few years ago, Cherry Red Records put out some demos, maybe called Time’s Up or The 1991 Demo Album, with great unreleased songs. Over the years, when we worked in different studios in the late 90s, we’d leave songs on tape thinking we’d use them for the next album. But when we’d come to record, we’d have new songs, so some got left behind. Cherry Red tracked those tapes down and released them, possibly for Record Store Day. Hearing them, I thought, “I don’t know how we left these behind.” But at least they finally came out. There were about 10 great songs on that album. We even designed the sleeve to look like a bootleg photocopy from the late 80s and early 90s.

What was the most surreal or unexpected thing that ever happened to you on tour?

There are millions of surreal things about touring. Touring itself can be surreal. Johnny Rotten would come to shows, or Joe Strummer would come in Los Angeles. We had many exciting gigs, like when we played Riot Fest recently, which had about 100,000 people. Each gig is unique because of the different crowd and that special atmosphere. Every night there’s a moment you can’t recapture, something shared by the band and the audience. That magic is why we keep doing it, and it’s different every time.

With Sonics in the Soul being the first album without Pete Shelley, how did you approach the songwriting and recording process differently this time around?

I wanted to take it somewhere slightly different but keep it Buzzcocks. Normally, Pete and I would have different tracks – two of his, one of mine. Now it’s just me, so I wrote with him in mind. I thought, “That’s a bit like Pete might do,” bringing him along in spirit. We used to have two dynamics, so now I expand my range. If you listen to Sonics in the Soul, it’s like a full journey. I wanted it to feel like a book, so you go from the first page to the last. Each track leads to the next. In the middle, it gets slower and darker, then comes out exciting again. Previously, Pete and I would write differently, and combining our styles created the Buzzcocks sound. Now, I had to create those two different writing sides on my own. Each track on “Sonics in the Soul” is distinct, so you never get bored.

What’s next for the band? Are there any new projects or recordings in the works?

Yes, for the last two weeks, I’ve been rehearsing with the bass player and drummer. I’ve written 14 songs, and I’m showing them the new material. Tomorrow, we’ll rehearse for three more days, then next Monday we go into the studio to record. That’s exciting because Sonics in the Soul got a great response, and it’s been a couple of years. We’ll go on tour in the U.S. and South America in March, then around the world. The band is in great shape live, playing the old classics plus the Sonics in the Soul songs, which people like. Soon we’ll have another album’s worth of material—14 new songs—which might come out next year, but we don’t have a release date yet. There’s still plenty of new stuff, so the journey with the Buzzcocks continues.

Buzzcocks’ official site
Photos courtesy of Buzzcocks

Matteo Damiani

Matteo Damiani is an Italian photographer and author. Curator of the sites Retrofuturista.com; weirditaly.com; china-underground.com and others