Hello once again, nice to have you back. If it’s your first visit to the blog where have you been for the last 2 and a half years? Not a problem, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do over next few weeks. I must admit that I’ve got my blogging hat back on, I struggled to find time last month and got a little bit frustrated as I knew I was ‘falling behind’ with Clash news. I know it sounds a bit daft, we’re talking about keeping current on a band that essentially ceased to be more than 25 years ago but the reality is with the rise of blogging, social media and the simple fact that you can read articles from newspapers throughout the world online there is always something to write about. Thankfully and purely coincidentally it seems that the last two plus years have seen Mick Jones more consistently active with a huge array of commitments than at any time in many moons. In addition so many of you have furnished me with other stories or even first hand accounts, photos and experiences to keep things busy. If you ever feel like contributing to the blog and have something you think may appeal to readers please let me know as I always welcome guest posts. It can be a Clash related opinion, bit of research or simply a personal experience relating to the band. There’s no wrongs or rights, if you think Combat Rock was their best album you can explain why, if you wish Paul Simonon took on lead vocals more often just say so. I’ll never manage to cover everything and we won’t agree on all views (Charlie Don’t Surf is one of their five best songs, Mick Jones had the best hair circa 1980) which is fine. I’d love to host a guest post or seven, so please don’t hesitate to contact me.

Right then, a few things on tap today and then (finally) some more focused posts in the days ahead. I’ve found myself scurrying from one thing to the next this month and wonder about the important stuff I might be missing?

File this under early warning (very early) but I love the 2012 Strummercamp logo so much (featured left) that it merits coverage. The astute amongst you will have seen already that next year’s event is the 7th annual celebration of Joe up in Manchester. As ever you can expect an excellent lineup at the event which seems to grow in popularity with each passing year. Full details will be added to the official site in the months ahead in the meantime the facebook page for Strummercamp 2012 is a good place to keep in touch and contact the key people. We’ll look to have more comprehensive coverage here on the blog in 2012.

Few people namedrop The Clash more than me on this blog but I think Billy Bragg would run a close second which is fine with me. I’m a long standing fan of Barking’s finest and in my humble opinion the very fact that Bragg hit the scene right at the time when the original lineup of The Clash was splintering has always been symbolic to me. It’s meant that I’ve had a protest/political artist playing a huge part in my life for over 30 years and Bragg embodies many of the things that The Clash were trying to accomplish. Just like The Clash there have been some adventurous adaptations which don’t always work our according to some listeners but I’ll forever feel indebted that The Clash expanded beyond the sound they perfected on those first two records, so similarly did Bragg expand far beyond one man and his guitar to become a modern folk singer who was even tasked with adding music to the unfinished songs of Woody Guthrie. In interviews it has become clear that most well researched journalists really want to explore that connection between Bragg and The Clash so it’s not Bragg’s ‘fault’ really and such was the case in this great interview with Sabotage Times. Make sure you read all of it beyond the obvious question about The Clash as you’ll enjoy it I think plus The Clash get mentioned elsewhere.

Finally today can’t end for me without mentioning the anniversary of the death in 2004 who meant a great deal to me and to many of you too I’m sure. All of us who grew up being obsessed with music and certain bands can speak at length about how we feel concerning artists we have never had the chance to meet or get to know in many cases. I never met Joe Strummer or Topper Headon and until last October I hadn’t even experienced my 90 seconds or so chatting to Mick and Paul when they visited town (this time last year). We’ve all got a list of singers and guitarists who changed our lives for a summer or maybe forever.

However seven years ago today someone who was just as important to my youth and musical education passed away although he never played on my favourite records, although he did play so many of them on the BBC. John Peel was a marvel, everyone related to him and respected his (amazingly broad) taste. If you spent more than a handful of hours listening to Peel when you were younger and didn’t benefit then you can’t have been paying attention. The list of bands that he helped to break is as long as it is excellent, Billy Bragg for example got a demo tape played by dropping it with Peel at the BBC along with some Indian food after Peel had remarked on the air about his hunger for said grub. John Peel was the gatekeeper for so many great bands and his enthusiasm never waned right up until the end. Beyond The Clash one of my very favourite bands for over 25 years has been The Wedding Present and knowing that they remained one of John Peel’s top choices always made me feel that much more ‘in the know’. However that was the magic of John Peel, we all have such stories about him. I miss him still, I think he was one of the most important people I never knew, but then again I knew him so well. Every time I flick through my collection of records and CDs it’s obvious he will stay with me.

Good morning and thanks for dropping in, my apologies if you’ve again had troubles accessing the site in recent days. Hacking bastards have been striking wordpress sites on our hosting company this week and being a nuisance, if it happens again we may need to change to a hosting company with better security than Gadhafi. A drain pipe? Seriously, I thought these types of chaps were supposed to have a secret hideaway inside a volcano. I’ll even venture that we have no idea what really transpired in Libya this year. Anyway, it’s extra frustrating when I write this and people can’t access it to read it. Going back one post I’ll have part two of Joe Strummer/Palmers Green put together as soon as I can. For the time being I hope your weekend is good and you’ll spend some time reviewing some other news that I needed to get current on. Please check back Sunday/Monday as I’ve got something Clash related that might make you want to move to Australia or at least visit.

This story reminds me of when an old footballer has to sell his FA Cup medals to pay for surgery but it’s pretty sad to read that Alan McGee is selling off his old Oasis memorabilia, even though the clear reason as to why isn’t documented. You’d have to guess cash though surely? I know Mick Jones (as evidenced by his Rock and Roll Public Library) is a keen collector but do you wonder what Bernard Rhodes might have sitting in his flat from the early days of The Clash? Rhodes is someone that causes a lot division amongst Clash fans but you can’t overlook his contribution to what the band were – I know the band acknowledge his impact. For better or worse he tends to keep a very low profile these days and as a rule has caused controversy on the rare occasions when he opens his mouth. In the very early days of the blog I tried to write about Rhodes and get some sort of pulse beyond all the accepted wisdom. I genuinely believe the truth is that his return to the band was the single most important ingredient in both The Clash reaching new levels of success (work harder boys!) but also planted the inner tensions that led to the band removing Topper and later Mick Jones. Whether one day Rhodes will tell his full tale looks pretty unlikely at this late stage but I think we’ll find out a great deal more next year with some Clash related books I’ve been expecting. (more on that soon).

Back in 2009 I even exchanged a series of semi-cryptic emails with Bernard Rhodes but they led to a mounting pile of riddles versus something quotable. I offered him a forum to tell his side of some events or simply tell us about the intervening years, instead I was asked numerous questions about myself and why I would be interested in looking back at something that was so misrepresented. That misrepresentation was inferred rather than stated but it was clear that Mr. Rhodes was not that keen on how history (or at least the history of this band) has marked his card. What can’t be doubted however is that were it not for him in the first instance the very idea of The Clash as we know them could probably never have happened. That in itself dictates enough attention to explore in more depth if you ask me.

The last time I communicated with him was immediately after the sad loss of Malcolm McLaren to offer extended condolences for which he thanked me. While the two men are seen in hindsight at great rivals (they were) it can’t be overlooked that they were also deep friends and inspirational to one another. The real tale of Bernie Rhodes will probably remain known to him and a few others only which is a shame as it’s one I know people would love to know. He still is an observer and a man with a profound legacy on an era of music and counter culture (the counter culture was truly his greater focus) that mattered a lot to so many of us. Moreover punk but what followed because of it changed the industry forever and indeed changed many of us just as dramatically.

If by some odd chance you read this Bernard, I hope all is well with you and the offer stands if you ever want to share even a part of your past or indeed your present with us. We’re a pretty open minded bunch as far as I know. I know only one thing for sure – he would love all of the #occupy events taking place globally, he’s been writing about the corruption for years on his website. I know many readers of the blog have had some very unique brushes with The Clash but did any of you ever have any experience meeting their manager either during his two stints in charge or during the subsequent years? I hope it’s not just me who sits and wonders about many such details? Right then I’m off to play football but you can t remember you can keep current via Facebook, Twitter get the RSS feed for the blog or email me and as ever thanks for reading and circulating the blog wherever and whenever you see fit. Tim

Hello once more and thanks for your continued support of The Clash Blog, I do appreciate you taking the time to read with your morning tea/coffee or late night pale ale. It’s a quiet night here in the desert and I found myself thinking back a long time this evening, back to the early 1970′s in fact. This might be a strange post….

I’ve got no great claims to greatness, I don’t really know anyone famous and my two most stretched associations would be that my Mum grew up in Dublin on the same street as the Wogan family. You might know their little boy Terry who then became the voice and face of BBC light entertainment on radio and then television for a good few years. As for the English side of the family my grandfather was the personal tailor for John F Kennedy’s famous (infamous) father Joseph Kennedy when the latter resided in London as the US Ambassador to Great Britain. My grandad said he was a ‘dreadful man, rude to everyone but appreciated the suits that only we could create for him’ and my grandad downplayed the fact that his son became one of the most famous names of the 20th century. My grandad also helped with tailoring for the coronation of the Queen in 1952 and the living room in their North London home had curtains made from leftover velvet from that event. In fact it’s their house in Southgate, London N14 that causes me to write tonight. This post is part one of a tale about a happy coincidence, there was no to be ‘Charlie Bucket’ moment for me clutching onto a golden ticket to visit a chocolate factory, nor even an invitation to see an early rehearsal of The Clash in 1976. What there is though is a happy coincidence and looking back that’s enough for me.

Windmill in the village where I grew up...

I was born about 30 miles north of there in the corner of the countryside where Hertfordshire & Essex blends with Cambridgeshire, very close to London (30 minutes by train) but another planet compared with the most populated city in Europe. Whilst my siblings were born earlier in London near tube stations and red double decker buses I was born on a road that had a farm at one end and some woods at the other, a country bumpkin. Therefore I loved the fact that my grandparents still lived up in London and all that it offered. As a child it meant red rover passes and bus trips all over the city with my brother or cousin to London Zoo, The Imperial War Museum or St. Paul’s. As I got older it meant record shops, pubs, clubs and concerts. Crossing the divide between being a kid and an adult was my other great love – my football team – Arsenal. My grandparents house was just 7 stops on the tube to Arsenal or about a 15 minute drive if we didn’t mind seeking out a place to park somewhere near the ground. As a result a family trip to the grandparents for a cup of tea and sandwiches followed by going to watch Arsenal (leaving behind my sister and Mum, Mother only came if it was warm and then just sat misty eyed looking at O’Leary and Brady) was a guaranteed day out every other Saturday for nine months of the year. There was no football on Sundays in those days.

This routine happened for years before I was old enough to remember and by the time I was about five I followed in the footsteps of my brother, my Dad, my Grandad and his father too and became a regular down at Highbury, going to watch Arsenal every other weekend (and sometimes away matches too) is my clearest memory of the early-mid 1970′s. I know that London back then was a city where bowler hats were still worn in the city, the idea of immigration was still ruffling feathers (and most immigrants were in very specific parts of town) and even the fact that my Mum was Irish would cause concern to others in those IRA active times. London seemed huge to me, full of people and stories, seemingly oblivious to young people it seemed to be dominated by people commuting to and from work and not very friendly. Yet, in streets like the one where my grandparents lived everyone knew each other and I was always jealous of the family next door who had two kids about my age – they got to grow up in London the lucky sods, I was growing up in an area best known for its jam and marmalade orchards.

As I mentioned my earliest memories were about age five or six and concerned football but within a year or two of that I was also aware that my brother (7.5 years older and now with a

My grandparents lived just a short walk from 'the green' in Southgate, note Palmers Green on the sign

girlfriend) had found another wonder that London offered which was the chance to see live concerts. I know he saw David Bowie, T Rex and less impressively David Essex whilst I was at an age when I was listening to The Wombles. I didn’t forget that the city offered the music too though and promised myself I’d move there one day which thankfully I did as a foolish, poor and naive teenager. Anyway, that’s a later tale to be told but I wanted to focus on the earliest years I can recall. Southgate to be fair was (and remains) a leafy and rather lovely suburban part of London, not in the least bit full of urban decay but instead offering a village green that featured cricket and parks full of sunbathers and dog walkers. It wasn’t Brixton, not even close. But as a kid I would sit in the car watching the countryside fade away until we reached the city, fields replaced by warehouses and then endless tracts of houses as you entered outer London. As we drove up the Great Cambridge Road to visit the grandparents we’d finally leave the busy road and turn right onto Hedge Lane in Palmers Green which led to Bourne Hill. Little did I know then and only found out many years later that on one of the side roads we passed after turning every other Saturday morning, a side road which was perhaps 1,200 yards from my grandparents house was named Ash Grove, and in 1971 a then unknown 19 year old young man named John Mellor had just moved into a shared flat at number 18 on that very street.

Much more on that in my next post.

Art deco tube station at Arnos Grove from where all journeys into London began