Patti Smith performed at the Roundhouse gig on May 16 and 17, 1976 [Mike Baess]

FIFTY years ago this weekend, punk rock began in the UK with two seismic gigs in Camden that sent a tsunami of far-reaching shockwaves throughout the entire music industry and beyond.

Such was the power of the Patti Smith shows at the Roundhouse on May 16 and 17 1976 that repercussions were also felt in the adjoining fashion scene and, before too long, in the literary and film worlds too.

Not only did the irreverent and iconoclastic Patti Smith provide the spark that galvanised a whole army of bedsitter rock stars with her earthy, street rock’n’roll, she also became a much-needed figurehead for women who wanted in on the largely male-dominated music scene.

To put everything in perspective we have to go back to early 1975 when the music press started writing about a new raw rock sound in New York played by bands with a passion for gutsy, primal rock’n’roll – the kind of raw music played fast and loose by the early Rolling Stones as well as spiky innovators such as Lou Reed, Iggy Pop and the MC5. And this particular high energy music was given a name, punk rock.

Then in November 1975, came the first album from these new wave bands – Horses by Patti Smith – and it was glorious, like a beacon in the darkness for a gener­ation of kids desperately wanting their own scene.

Ticket to the Roundhouse in May 1976

Two gigs were announced at London’s hippest venue, the Roundhouse, on May 16 and 17, and sold out very quickly – quite a feat for a relatively unknown act with no hit singles and only one album behind her.

The gig is rock history now, and famous for having drawn members of the UK’s emerging punk scene. Members of The Sex Pistols, The Clash, The Damned, The Buzzcocks, The Slits, and Siouxsie and The Banshees to name just a few were all present. It was THAT important an event.
I’ve been to many, many gigs in my life but, on reflection, I don’t think I ever went to one where the anticipation was as eagerly felt as waiting for Patti to hit the stage.

And what an entrance it was – a euphoric, celebratory cry of “England” from Patti and then her “1-2-3-4” intro for the band who slammed into a 90mph version of the obscure Velvet Underground song, We’re Going To Have A Real Good Time Together.

It was everything I’d hoped it was going to be but from then on in it kept getting better – Patti and the band pacing the gig well with a couple of slower songs from Horses next – Kimberly and Redondo Beach.

Patti also was no slouch in taking down hecklers – some moron from the audience yelled out “let’s have a look at your tits” and quick as a rattlesnake, she shouted back, “how about your dick, honey” which won a huge round of applause.

Next up was another absolute belter, Free Money, and by now Patti had completely won the crowd over and the gig went up another gear and was beginning to feel like rock’n’roll history in the making.

Patti clearly fed off the audience’s enthusiasm and what made her stand out so much from other rock acts of the time was her ability to improvise, to read the room and then conjure up an atmosphere unique to each audience.

From the frenetic finish to Free Money, Patti again cooled the pace with two slow burners, the mighty Privilege (Set Me Free) from the obscure cult film of the same name that starred Paul Jones and Jean Shrimpton, and then the explosive Pissing In A River.

The centrepiece of the show was a song now generally acknowledged by fans as one of her greatest, Ain’t It Strange, with its hypnotic reggae groove and its tale of spiritual transcendence in order to connect with a higher reality.

This was now becoming far more than just a rock’n’roll show – it was like the literature of the beat poets and the wild, unbridled jazz of the Be Bop generation all thrown into one wild hybrid.

And just when you thought that it couldn’t get any better Patti plays her royal flush, the two highlights of Horses in Land and then final number, a storming version of Gloria, bringing the whole of the Roundhouse to a frenzy before one final song, the encore of The Who’s My Generation.

So many people I spoke to later on and in the days and weeks that followed felt the gig was an epiphanal moment – clearly one of the most legendary gigs London has ever seen.