Malcolm McLaren died. Musician, band manager,producer, entrepreneur,
songwriter--he wore all those titles.
But then, nobody puts 'visionary' on their resume.
He managed (and named) the Sex Pistols. I love the defiant,
in-your-face graphics of
Jamie Reid's posters for their albums.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2HIaPjpcEJ6ukdhAIJEJgrXOT1Gx5nIpMdnB_LnQ8z14gzxjx4FHtqhoOG-UX6nQWAaZ-QITO-lZzcFLhkf_9UsihFiI0-dWgGR4e27BM1E3cEH6VQ76xmHpHuruOm9HzOQ_F3_W42CuK/s320/P1010008-1024x768.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU6v677u8LUfrL4pt2u_jKxW3A1Rfxtgpt12EsuEr-_Egu7EwFLss7eW6MuEVRm315TehH-lcfmfWLtwKpjKv_FWRubsr4R-CNYnpH4tjMLKVsdDXg5UX0fEzfAe2EIrF2ofv_u9nxbPsD/s320/BW_JReid.gif)
The Madame Butterfly video was mesmerizing when I first saw it, and
it continues to have a strange, dreamy pull.
Puccini would turn over in his grave, no doubt.
Maybe that was the point.
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