Welcome back you fine Clash people on this very special Tuesday, it’s election day here in America which reminds me of both an awful song and some equally awful memories. More on that later this week I’m sure, for now though the final installment of a 6 carriage train that departed the day after I saw Gorillaz in Phoenix last week. I know I stretched out the story quite a bit but with hindsight rather a lot happened over those two days. Catch up on the earlier posts if you like as it’ll be more fun or jump right in below.

Mick signing my London Calling inner sleeve

So it was that less than 30 minutes after the concert ended Damon Albarn was outside with a crowd that numbered probably about 60 people or so. It was a beautiful evening outside which further added to how shocked I was at the relatively small gathering of fans and autograph takers. Damon seemed perfectly polite and peppy throughout the 10 minutes or so he spent saying hello and signing memorabilia. Although a fair few years have passed for Damon also since I last saw him in  2002 I would give anything to know how he keeps his energy so high. Eventually he headed off toward the bus and I noticed that with his departure the crowd gradually reduced to about half of its original size. Two friends of mine Scott and Jessica continued waiting with the rest of us but they were in danger of missing the last train so they said they had to head off and hoped I would be able to meet the boys from The Clash. Jess said “don’t worry as soon as I leave they will come out, wait-and-see” Bless her for being such a clairvoyant.

Just a few minutes later the glass door about 40 yards down opened once more, I may have been the only person looking for I was definitely the first to react by yelling out “Jonesy” at the top of my lungs. He looked up the pavement and grinned as he stepped towards the bus he held up one finger indicating just a moment. Suddenly my brain started swimming with the incredible rush of emotion you only feel every so often in life, some that they first love you times with tragic news like an unexpected death, or at times such as when somebody first reveals that they are in love with you. This is one such rush as all I could think of was staring at that first Clash album cover, studying the lyric sheet and photographs that came with London Calling and endless hours (hundreds? thousands? more?) I spent listening to all of their music and trying to perfect my own lacking tonal ability to sing along. Especially I remember as a 13-15 year-old to Mick Jones, the higher notes better matching my own limited range. As he walked nearer all I could think was ‘bloody hell it’s Mick Jones’ (I don’t know what I was expecting) and then suddenly he was just a few feet away smiling, chatting and signing autographs. The remaining crowd were patient but initially I felt frozen to the spot, unable to move or really even comprehend that I had a chance to say hello. I did manage to lift up the mobile phone and get some typically poor photographs from above head height. Then at last there was an interlude between his exchanges and a chance to say something. As I wrote before it would be great to tell you that your Clash blogger pulled out a microphone and asked the most interesting questions ever posed to Mick, stopping him cold and insisting I come on the bus for a full interview post-haste. I’m sorry to tell you that never happened, I knew I’d be excited if I ever met any member of The Clash, what I didn’t expect was to be completely overcome by emotion. The emotion was palpable and throughout the 15 minutes that they were outside (Paul was to follow) I basically felt like I was 15 again and transported back to a time when we were all waiting for the next Clash album. So what came out of my mouth when I first met Mick?

“Shepherds Bush”

Yes at the very moment I’d waited 30 years for I blurted out the part of London I used to live in when I first got my own flat. The ground floor flat

Damon....and the Edge?

off the Goldhawk Road was just a few hundred yards from where Mick and Paul were first introduced to Joe in 1976. Although The Clash were no more when I moved there in 1985 I chose the neighborhood specifically to be in west London and near where it all began. But maybe I just chose it so a quarter-century later I could tell Mick? God knows?

“Mick how are you, lovely to see you finally. I used to live in Shepherds Bush”

He grinned in a way that said he’d seen it all before, but was more than happy to see it again. I think he said ‘nice, that’s great’ and extended his hand to shake mine. I then recalled saying ‘it was a great show, thanks so much for everything, just everything’. What struck me most on the night and again a week later was just how sincerely happy, courteous and warm both he and Paul seemed to absolutely everybody who was around. In Mick’s case I would add the adjective gentle, his whole persona was remarkably so.

Luckily I did have a second extended opportunity to talk to Mick which I’ll get to in a moment for by this time Paul Simonon had joined his former (and present) band mate. Seeing Paul in the same view as Mick was just lovely, I can’t think of a better word to describe it. Both smiling and laughing not just at those gathered but also with each other, Paul also was extremely patient with each person who wanted him to scribble his name, or grab a quick photo. I’ve never been one to collect for autographs and the whole process feels a bit daft and really obtrusive. Reluctantly I was part of that pack, and watched Paul patiently sign one piece of Gorillaz merchandise after another. I finally caught his eye and holding the lyric sheet to London Calling I asked

“Paul would you mind signing this?”

I swear his grin got a bit bigger and he replied

“Yeah of course”

He finished signing yet another photo of Murdoch or 2-D or whatever character and then grabbed the London Calling lyrics. He turned it over a couple times before deciding just where to sign and then handed it back to me. By now my composure  was about the equivalent of a three-week-old puppy so I managed to hold at least part of a conversation. As you’ll know Paul has got a very unique speaking voice, as if standing next to him wasn’t strange enough chatting certainly was. It went a bit like this.

CB “Hello Paul how are you?”
PS “I’m great mate, really great cheers”
CB “It was a great concert Paul, really good, you were great tonight”
PS “I’m glad you enjoyed it, it was a good time”
CB “I first saw you lot years back, I was just a teenager” (I then proceeded to give him probably far too much information about my earliest Clash experiences)
PS ‘Nice, you saw some great shows, those were the days eh?”
CB ‘Yeah, I never thought I’d get the chance to see you sharing a stage with Mick again so tonight meant so much to me it was just brilliant”
PS “I’m glad, its been really nice…really good fun”

Me and Paul

Luckily the bloggette was paying attention and asked if we’d be able to get a photo, Paul stood beside me and put his hand on my shoulder, I was in tears by then if I remember rightly and as we were preparing for the quick photo I told him how The Clash practically reared me, and I’ll never forget them or Joe and then thanked him once again. He said something like Cheers…and Thank You.

I must have told him my name as when I said ‘see ya Paul enjoy the rest of the tour, thanks for everything’  he replied with

‘All The Best Tim’.

Maybe the only time I’ll ever speak to him so it ended a treat. The next part is told to me rather than my own recollection, after saying goodbye to Paul I marched around the corner against the wall of the building and was leaning against it with my hands over my head. The emotion was just too much for a few moments and I was crying a bit…just lost it…totally. Kim came over and asked what I was doing and that Mick’s still here…so is Paul. I think I said “I’m not coping, that’s what I’m doing”. I guess some might say I was star struck, but it runs deeper than that. I sincerely feel that The Clash have been maybe the most constant thing in my life. No other thing (apart from Arsenal) that I was mad about in 1979 am I still mad about now. You could play one of 60 different Clash songs right now and it will impact me and my mood, almost always for the better. Starting this blog has perhaps brought that into sharper relief and I thought of all of the wonderful fans the band has, and just how much passion remains for the band and its members. I know that all was whizzing through my head as well.

Kim managed to get me to come back round the corner and Mick and Paul were together again, with many grabbing photos as they chatted and relaxed. There were not many people left when I went back to Mick and asked if he could sign my  sleeve and he did so right with Paul’s signature. I’ve committed to memory our brief chat that was surely less than a minute or two but apart from one private thought it was essentially this.

CB “Thanks Mick, just so much, for all of the music and all the memories for so bloody long”
MJ (Shyly) “ah of course”
CB “I wondered, do you think the Rock and Roll Public library might eventually make it over to the States?”
MJ (eyes lit up) “I really hope so, we’d like to do that, a lot, maybe next year”
CB “Oh brilliant, that would be great, East Coast? West Coast? (like a dick) Somewhere in the middle?
MJ (laughing) “Not sure yet but we really hope so”
CB (I rambled longer and harder than this but essentially) ‘That would be cool, I keep in touch with Ade back in London via email about it, I also am friends with Pete the photographer…who came out last summer and took loads of pics of the library and met you”
MJ “Oh right, great…yeah”
CB “Yeah and I wrote about it on the blog…my blog…The Clash Blog…I write it you see….(whoops!)
MJ “Oh….it’s you….! Nice one…nice one mate, that’s great”

His recognition seemed sincere enough, whether he thought oh it’s YOU who writes all that…or just was being very polite I’ll never know, but he seemed to smile a bit more anyway. I think he meant it in the former manner.

I ended up reeling off far too many thank yous and far too few words of logic but said something about how you’ve always been there Mick and that really mattered. He just smiled and took it in, I could never had said the right thing but I had a go. I did say ‘Stay Free Mick’ as he walked away…completely without intending it.

Soon after the two of them headed off to the buses and Los Angeles, and we made it back to my car. I don’t know if I’ll see them again, but at least I did that night. I’ve been regretting never meeting Joe Strummer now for nearly eight years, and on the rare chances when I could have I convinced myself I’d not know what to say and Joe was too great – he was Joe. I was a stupid reason and one I curse myself over, but I feel some of the pain has lessened.

My favourite memory of the night wasn’t the concert, or the brief exchanges I managed to have with the two of them, but it was of standing just five feet away from the two of them and seeing them happy – happy and on top of their game, just like it’s always been, just as it will always be…and somewhere in the dark night I remember hoping that Joe – or the energy of Joe that is everywhere could somehow see me and know my passion was also about him of course – and I’ve finally met you too now…at last.

Just in case you missed it, try and be near your radio or internet at Midnight Sunday evening in the UK (7pm USA EST / 5pm USA PST….other places/times try this link!)

BBC Six Music (which is generally rather brilliant) will be broadcasting a special show hosted by Don Letts for an hour on Sunday night. The show will feature the always enjoyable insight of Letts plus music revolving around The Clash and Joe Strummer. Its always great to see the BBC working with Letts above and beyond his regular broadcast to honour the memory of Joe, so I look forward to this broadcast a great deal. Don of course knew Joe from 1976/7 and was a long time fan/DJ/observer and visual chronicler of the band both during the days of The Clash but also his continued proximity to the members of the band. Expect great music and observations….can’t wait.

This link should work on the night – and typically these broadcasts get archived also. Just in case BBC Six Music link is here for you. While we’re talking about the BBC Six Music – check out this archived interview with Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious from 1977 – I’m just about to give it a listen, it should be available until Tuesday. Marc Riley is brilliant….

Off topic…can’t these wankers grow up? Republicans are sending this country back to the 1600′s.

Tim

Good evening all, hope things aren’t too bad wherever you’re reading this. Been a weird sort of day but that happens eh? 2 hours until tomorrow so I’ll bank on that being a better one. Speaking of one better day I’d hate to be the poor chap who is having to sell this superb collection of Clash Merchandise on ebay. I’m sure he’s heartbroken not being able to keep hold of some of these rarities. To start with you’ve got an original framed Bonds poster in that radiant yellow and some other fine posters. Some rare vinyl, backstage passes and original t-shirts. All are worth a look and then an email to your most successful relative saying what a good boy/girl you’ve been this year and that Christmas is coming soon. I’ve never been a huge collector of memorabilia beyond records and cds and I do get a little green when I see a collection like this. I’ve got a framed photo of Joe  Strummer in my office – it was a cut out from a magazine…how punk is that? (incidentally I’ll have that Brixton poster if you are buying)

Some topics create so much obsession that they start to become a parody as soon as the box is opened up. Here’s one of the biggest of all time when it comes to any discussion of The Clash:  “Punk is dead / not dead / never died”

Why does this always come up? Why does their have to be a definite answer when I’m not even sure what the question is. Yahoo in their poppy wisdom had forded this river and asked the question for the 638th time. Well, let me clarify, they elected not to ask the question but to simply state “punk is dead”. Shit this could be a post all on it’s own couldn’t it? Yes…it will be when I’ve got typing fingers ready to go. Here’s my short opinion:

The punk ‘movement’ of 1976/7 is dead. Yes, soon after record companies were pushing each other over to sign every band with a sneer the movement evolved into something else. Punk music is not dead. What those records (not just 1976-1979) mean to me will never change, there have been a lot of records made in the same spirit of punk in the 30 years since also. It was the Punk ideal that created all the indie labels we took for granted ever since. It was the Punk ideal that led to that amazing post punk period of 1979-1984 where the quality and variety of music was outstanding. Moreover, how can you say ‘Punk is Dead’ when you can’t define when it really began. If you were 17 in New York in 1968, the Velvet Underground were punk. If you were 16 in Glasgow in 1984 The Jesus and Mary Chain were punk. If you were 15 in London in 2001 The Libertines were punk. It’s all a question of definition really. Is there music that charges you up and fills you with some fury? Do bands have something more to say than “a boy meets a girl, so what?” (McCarthy - though I’d love to claim that lyric). I considered myself a punk as a kid and I still do. I still don’t subscribe to suburban ideals nor conservative thinking. I still look twice at the kids with the challenging haircut. Did I ever wax on about how bloody brilliant McCarthy were…that’s a long post!!!

I still would rather you told me how you felt about something than be told how to feel. Punks not dead – if you were paying attention it becomes part of who you are. If a new song still excites you – if a social wrong still dismays you – if a hot debate still entices you and if you still like the beat of your own drum, then you were a punk and you remain one. There’s a little pub near me that’s where all the young local punks hang out. They were mostly born between 1987-1993 long after even the ashes of The Clash had cooled, but try telling them they aren’t punk. You can’t change when you were born. The only question is when they hit 30,35,40 do they hold onto most of those ideals? Change is apparently inevitable but in a sense I’m glad I can still relate to who I was at 15. I was angry with Thatcher, with Reagan, with the IRA and The British, I was putting my faith in Strummer and Weller. Later it was Morrissey and David Gedge, then Jarvis Cocker and Damon Albarn. Music has been my constant, I can’t apologize for that now.

On a very related note Bernard Rhodes and I keep exchanging pleasant emails, he’s reluctant to dig into the past and I’m too polite to insist. I would love to have him contribute to the blog – I’d love to hear just what it was like being at the beginning of The Clash and knowing you were key. Maybe tomorrow I’ll know what to ask him….