When Joe Strummer died of a heart attack on 22nd December 2002, his death made the front pages of all the top international newspapers. It was a fitting tribute to a man who was the closest I ever got to having a hero, but the attention was surprising. After all, nearly two decades had passed since The Clash fell apart in their typically chaotic way.
They had been one of the greatest groups of modern times and for a couple of years I’d followed them fanatically. A rallying point, a focus for all my frustration and confusion, I was at the Rainbow riot in May ‘77 and the Victoria Park Rock Against Racism bash in April ’78, but the best shows had been in the provinces and hick towns like Swindon, Bournemouth and Hastings. Walking through those places was literally like walking the line. Unlike the local part time punks, with our de rigueur spiked hair, tight jeans, leather jackets and brothel creepers we were always a target for the local cops and bozos. We got loads of shit every time. The Clash themselves would always cut through that crap, Joe Strummer all nervous energy, leg pumping, arm thrashing, commanding attention, a natural leader of men. It was the greatest rush, a feeling of ' We can do anything’, a tangible sense of belonging.
In those days I thought they would be remembered in all their confused and contradictory glory, for The Clash, the most life affirming, vital, relevant and contemporary record I‘d ever heard, the stencilled urban guerrilla look, the reggae influence, their early press interviews and those classic 1977/78 singles. Those were the days when The Clash said and did everything they subsequently failed to live up to and failed to live down. When they claimed they had come not only to shake up rock’n’roll but also to change the world, and we all believed them if only because it still felt perfectly possible for representatives of a youth culture to actually do that.
It couldn’t last and it didn’t, The Clash’s position as de facto leaders when The Pistols stalled in national outrage and hysteria impossible to maintain as punk buckled under the weight of its own contradictions, to which they would add quite a few of their own. Coming on like uber-social realists, in point of fact they were just a bunch of misfits and music obsessives who cared enough to look outside their own immediate concerns while still wanting mainstream success. Such was the nature of the game even for punks, for whom all too often success represented nothing but failure.
The Clash defined the early punk period so accurately that we all knew it would only be a matter of time before they planned an escape from its rigid constraints. That came when they made a move to conquer America, largely off the back of ‘I Fought The Law’, and when they waved their largely indifferent homeland bye bye, the dynamic changed completely. A different view emerged and it seemed as though they would be remembered solely for London Calling, Pennie Smith’s black and white photos, the New York Bonds residency and Don Letts videos for the Combat Rock singles. Soaking up influences from every place they visited, both in real life and in their imaginations, they were on the cusp of truly making it big.
Now those views have merged together and The Clash’s painstaking efforts to create their own myth have been eclipsed by the far more powerful force of nostalgia. When I think of The Clash now, I forget about the embarrassing moments; the mistakes, the shit songs, the ridiculous publicity stunts, the unfulfilled promises. Instead, I’m left with all the best bits; their natty dress sense, the rockabilly haircuts, their cool as fuck influences, the best songs, the best shows, the most stirring videos and the warmest memories. I have constructed the near perfect version of a rock’n’roll band, a Hollywood version of The Clash. They have left me with the soundtrack to their own movie, the one where Joe Strummer, Mick Jones, Paul Simonon and Topper Headon are characters in some sepia tinted Western, gritty Vietnam war film or grainy made for TV youth drama.
There they go, can you see them. Frozen in time, riding into the sunset; from reality into history, from history into legend, from legend into myth!
01. White Riot (A Side March 1977)
02. 1977 (B Side March 1977)
03. Janie Jones (The Clash LP April 1977)
04. I’m So Bored With The USA (The Clash LP April 1977)
05. London’s Burning (The Clash LP April 1977)
06. Garageland (The Clash LP April 1977)
07. Complete Control (A Side September 1977)
08. Clash City Rockers (A Side February 1978)
09. White Man In Hammersmith Palais (A Side June 1978)
10. Safe European Home (Give ‘Em Enough Rope LP November 1978)
11. Stay Free (Give ‘Em Enough Rope LP November 1978)
12. I Fought The Law (Cost Of Living EP May 1979)
13. London Calling (A Side December 1979)
14. Armagideon Time (B Side December 1979)
15. Brand New Cadillac (London Calling LP December 1979)
16. Rudie Can’t Fail (London Calling LP December 1979)
17. Spanish Bombs (London Calling LP December 1979)
18. Clampdown (London Calling LP December 1979)
19. Guns Of Brixton (London Calling LP December 1979)
20. Wrong ‘Em Boyo (London Calling LP December 1979)
21. Bankrobber (A Side August 1980)
22. The Magnificent Seven (Sandinista! LP December 1980)
23. Something About England (Sandinista! LP December 1980)
24. One More Time (Sandinista! LP December 1980)
25. Police On My Back (Sandinista! LP December 1980)
26. This Is Radio Clash (A Side November 1981)
27. Know Your Rights (A Side April 1982)
28. Red Angel Dragnet (Combat Rock LP May 1982)
29. Straight To Hell (Combat Rock LP May 1982)
30. This Is England (A Side September 1985)