When Glen Matlock published his memoir I Was A Teenage Sex Pistol in 1996. he “thought I’d never have to talk about (the story) again.”

But 30 years later, he’s doing it again.

The Sex Pistols‘ founding bassist — who co-wrote 10 of the 12 songs on 1977’s seminal Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols before parting ways with the band that year — is now the subject of a documentary also titled, wait for it… I Was a Teenage Sex Pistol. Based on the book, of course, the 94-minute film begins streaming May 26 on Apple TV and Prime Video. It’s directed by Andre Relis (Randy Rhoads: Reflections of a Guitar Icon) and Nick Mead (Who Do I Think I Am? ).

Amidst its reams of vintage footage and images is commentary from Matlock and a wealth of friends and associates, including Billy Idol; Blondie members Debbie Harry, Chris Stein and the late Clem Burke (Matlock’s been touring with the band since 2022); the late Wayne Kramer of the MC5; Spandau Ballet’s Gary Kemp; Rat Scabies of the Damned; Slim Jim Phantom of Stray Cats; Kenney Jones (the Faces, the Who); Cheetah Chrome (the Dead Boys, Rocket from the Tombs; L.A. Guns’ Tracii Guns; and members of the Vandals, Bazooka Joe, Doctors of Madness and more.

Sex Pistols frontman John Lydon (aka Johnny Rotten), the band’s late manager Malcolm McLaren, and the late Sid Vicious, who replaced Matlock during February of 1977, are represented via archival footage and audio clips.

“It’s no real kind of MGM, the big lion thing,” says Matlock, who co-produced the film. “It’s a little bit more of a DIY project. People have been interested over the years; it didn’t come together, and then I met Nick Mead, who introduced me to Andre Relis a couple of years ago, and we slowly went about piecing it all together. I think it’s come together really well.”

He adds that, “I think what’s quite good about it is Andre… is sort of a bit late to the punk rock thing. So he asked people questions that may be a bit naive, but he gets a more straightforward answer out of them than somebody who knows it already and asks some tricky question instead.”

The point of the I Was a Teenage Sex Pistol documentary is much the same as the book — essentially restoring Matlock’s somewhat obscured contributions and his place in the band’s groundbreaking legacy. “I thought this might make a slightly different take on the Sex Pistols story,” he explains. “I’ve always felt I’ve been passed over a little bit in the public eye. People like to paint me as the guy from the Sex Pistols that nobody knows; there were so many people involved that they’ve all got their own take on the story. This is mine.”

That notion is certainly supported throughout the film. As Joe Escalante from the Vandals says on camera, “We’re kind of fed a Sid Vicious story, that Sid Vicious was punk rock and Sid Vicious is the Sex Pistols. And we found out Sid Vicious could not play bass, did not play bass, and there’s some other guy named Glen Matlock. And we’re like, ‘Who’s he?'”

Matlock — who’s long contended that he chose to leave the band while others have maintained he was fired — says that he’s “really pleased with the quantity and the caliber of people who stood up to pick me up a little bit — friends, acquaintances, work colleagues. That can only boost your confidence a little bit, and it’s interesting to hear the slightly different takes on things.”

What …Teenage Sex Pistol does make clear is the key role the bassist played in the band’s formation and its music, including its first single, “Anarchy in the U.K.,” and the equally iconic “God Save the Queen.” In the documentary Matlock demonstrates show they came about, playing the chord progressions on his bass for the camera. “I always tried to get Steve (Jones) doing something on the root (progression), which he’d pick up on and lay around with a little bit,” Matlock explains. “Then I’d give it a bit more color, like what (John) Entwistle did on (the Who’s) ‘My Generation’ — nowhere near as good as that, but counterpoint rhythms and things like he does.”

The documentary also explores the roots of punk rock in the United Kingdom, with observations from the figures such as Alex McDowell, an acclaimed production designer who booked what was to be the first Sex Pistols concert, at the Central School of Art and Design, and Mike Thorpe, a record executive who signed the band to its ill-fated first contract with EMI. “I did subscribe to the socio-politico kind of thing myself,” Matlock says now, “but that could be misconstrued because everybody in the band had totally different ideas about it. Paul (Cook, drummer) might have been more along my lines. (Jones) couldn`t give a s— as long as he got paid and there were some girls involved. And John ended up more on the sort of (politically) right end of things, which I’m certainly not. I’m not an out-and-out socialist, but I’m leaning that way. So there was a big split in the camp.”

After leaving the Sex Pistols, Matlock formed Rich Kids with a then-unknown Midge Ure, then went on to the short-lived Vicious White Kids with Sid Vicious, Spectres and the all-star International Swingers. He also worked with Iggy Pop, the Damned and the reformed Faces before his tenure with Blondie.

Cook and Jones appear in …Teenage Sex Pistol, their relationships with Matlock largely repaired since he rejoined the band for its 20th anniversary Filthy Lucre tour in 1996 and continues working with them. “Me, Steve and Paul have always gotten on enough,” Matlock notes. “They always blame (McLaren) for what happened. We’re not the best of friends, but we’re not the worst of enemies. We sort of hang together and enjoy each other’s company when we do that.”

But Matlock remains unhappy with Pistol, the 2022 British TV miniseries which was based on Jones’ memoir Lonely Boy: Tales from a Sex Pistol, and executive produced by the guitarist. “I did tell Steve, I said, ‘Mate you got a shocking memory,” he says. “I wasn’t that happy with it, but that’s not why I made this movie.”

Matlock says there were “a few people I did ask” to be interviewed for the film but refused. “They were maybe more in the John camp,” he notes, “so probably said ‘no’ because it could’ve been awkward. Lydon was not approached, under the assumption he “just wasn’t interested. He’s moved on from (the Sex Pistols) now. But good luck to John; he’s got the Public Image (Ltd.) thing going. People say we’re a tribute band without John, but there’s three of us, and he’s the only Public Imager. I think he’s painted himself into a corner of a very big hallway.”

Asked if he’d be open to having Lydon back in the Sex Pistols if he wished, Matlock is silent for a moment before saying that, “It’s just not gonna happen.”

Matlock, Jones and Cook are happy enough with the current incarnation of the Sex Pistols, however. British singer Frank Carter began fronting the band during 2024, at the suggestion of one of Matlock’s sons; the group will be going on a 50th anniversary Jubilee tour this year, starting June 11 in Europe — with several festival appearances — with U.S. dates beginning Sept. 11 in Dallas to make up for shows canceled last fall after Jones broke his wrist.

“Frank has given us a new lease on life,” Matlock says. “It’s a bit like the beginning in the band, when we first started out, before John got his face in the papers. Jenny, (Cook’s) wife), came to see us and said, ‘Y’know what; that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you guys come off stage with a smile on your face.” And he predicts that bonhomie might even lead to some new music from the quartet.

“I’d like to,” Matlock says. “I’ve got some tracks; they’re not finished songs, just sort of earmarked if that (opportunity) comes up. I think Frank would like to. The only thing is Steve lives in L.A., I live (in London), Frank’s out of town. When we get together (to tour) we have enough time to do what we need to do. There’s not a lot of hanging around. But who knows. We’re beginning to run out of time a little bit, but never say never, right?”

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