And so it came to pass that I finished another Brian Brain tour of the U.S. playing to half empty minds in half empty clubs, and went back to
      the U.K. feeling pretty low and thinking there must be more to life.  And on 24th August 1982 came the offer that would change the next  year of my life. Atkins phoned out of the blue and asked me if  I wanted the PiL gig  to do some U.S. dates. They (PiL) were finding it hard to recruit an  American bass player of the right calibre with the right attitude,  Johnny was skint, and the job was mine if  I wanted it. The offer took  me by surprise and in fact  I didn't say yes right away, I told  Atkins I would ring the following night and I would let him know what I  was going to do. It was in fact Levene  who I spoke to at Park South studios and a lengthy  conversation ensued during which he told me that I should get my arse  over to the states as soon as he snapped his fingers .Bollocks! No  fucker ever spoke to me like that and got away with it, I told him to  ring me back. We eventually sorted out the details and after a bit of a wait while immigration got sorted I flew out to New York. Waiting for me at JFK was a tired looking Atkins. "We're waiting for you to arrive" said he . "We've got a studio session booked and we need you to lay down a bass track now!" "Fuck off!" I replied "It's late, I've got jet lag and I'm  half pissed" But that was no excuse. We jumped in a cab and on the  way to Park South studios in Manhattan, Atkins attempted to hum the  bass line to me so I had an idea how the song went. Of course, Atkins  could only sing in a flat, northern England nasal twang so I didn't  really have a fucking clue how it went. We arrived at the studio and breezed in past some other band who were waiting to start their studio session, PiL were playing and they had  to wait for this English bass player to do his stuff. I walked into  the control room and said Hi, Levene was there along with Ken Lockie who I hadn't spoke to since I toured with Cowboys International in 1980, plus a couple of hangers on who were spooning round the charlie. Lydon was nowhere to be seen. Levene had already laid down a bass part, it was out of tune, and out of time and staggered from one bum note to the next. Levene, despite being a capable guitarist couldn't manage to make four fat strings sound any good, but it gave me an idea of what they wanted. "Just play along to this " said Levene, passing me a battered old Fender, and so I did and instantly improved the track. Levene was insistent that we run it through again and again, doing take after take, it was doubtful if take 43 was any better than take 2 but we persevered nonetheless. All the takes were done from the control booth with a D.I. straight into the mixing desk. After an hour or two I heard a noise from the other side of the desk, and suddenly to my surprise, Lydon rose up from where he had been laying and listening. It was an entrance in true Lydon style, a statement, like the organist rising up at the front of 1950's English cinema, pure theatre, pantomime, absurd. So, after many long hours, I was fucked, and we had finished recording what was to become "Mad Max" on Commercial Zone. I retired back to the Iroquois hotel for a rest and looked back on a totally ridiculous  day. The roller coaster ride had begun

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