It’s Tuesday, or Chewsday as I’m told I tend to pronounce it to which I reply yes and the language we’re speaking is known as English. See how grumpy I am when my coffee intake is upside down as it has been this week? I should be right as rain by Thursday at this rate. Thanks for dropping in to the blog once more and I do have a bit of an open topic for this evening. This was spurred by two things; both that Jon Savage book that I’ve been reading the last couple of weeks (and it’s frankly quite brilliant) and also a review that I read today of a book called ‘A cultural dictionary of punk: 1974-1982′ by Nicholas Rombes that has just been released. (link to the review is here)

Like the Savage book the Rombes effort looks to clarify a number of questions that were posed by punk, whether that be in New York, London or anywhere it spread on the map which such rapidness in the mid-1970s. The beauty of the Jon Savage book is that extensive interviews were conducted with so many of the most important individuals involved in the scene, from the musicians to management, journalists and scenesters. I will write more about the book when I finish it but perhaps the most enjoyable aspect is that Savage is just there to ask questions, not to guide the interviewee in providing answers nor gauge the relevancy or accuracy of the memories. The book allows you to make up your own mind as to how London borrowed from New York, or did not do so, it provides you firsthand accounts from most notably The Sex Pistols but also The Clash and many others – some 50 plus interviews in all. The author doesn’t seek to interpret effect or impact, nor blame and transition. Most of all if you weren’t there (myself included as I was too young for it) it spells out just how rapid the ascent and subsequent implosion of the entire scene was. In just 18 months something new emerged, was discovered and followed and then caught the imagination of the national media for all the wrong reasons and none of the right ones. Concerts that were attended by 20 or 30 people in the summer of 76 were filling large halls and attracting an entirely different element just 12 months later.

The Nicholas Rombes book seems to set out its stall asking many of the same questions and the review of the book makes it sound like something definitely worth a look. The main difference being while the author still sources the information from exact quotes he then looks to interpret those to answer some of the bigger questions that the scene left behind. To paraphrase the review those key questions include just why did the whole punk scene imploded upon itself so very quickly? Where did these bands suddenly appear from and just as rapidly vanish? Why did punk fail to fully reinvent the grand notions from the previous hippie generation? (Their words not mine).

The Clash hectored with slogans, but “politics always suggests ‘right ideas,’ doesn’t it? And punk, at its dirty heart, was always about escaping the tyranny of authority, the tyranny of right ideas, the tyranny of those who would say, Here is how you are supposed to think.” Rombes on The Clash

I’ll look to get a copy of the book rather than just defer to the review which is indeed very well written and if the interpretation is correct some of these big questions may have been answered with dangerous oversimplifications of the events themselves. We can isolate so many individual incidents that occurred in 1976, each and every one could have drastically altered the landscape then and what was to follow in 1977. There are so many huge ‘what ifs’ to ponder that arriving at simplified solutions seems a very ambitious goal for a book of its type. For example the friendship turned rivalry between Bernie Rhodes and Malcolm McLaren, the nucleus of the scene was such a small community that band members landing slightly differently and being in a new band entirely was not only possible but was happening. You need look no further than to review the list of names who were involved with those bands that never really were such as London SS or the Flowers of Romance, or even who was in the audiences at those sparsely attended concerts. The role of initially the music press and then the national media and television suddenly forced punk onto a national stage far sooner than it was ready to be there. Crucially when awareness of punk (chiefly the Sex Pistols) did hit the national consciousness in the UK it was primarily in the negative capacity which amounted to little more than fear and hatred. A scene that was originally reported to be exciting and revolutionary was suddenly dangerous and disgusting, all bands were splattered with the same brush while simultaneously the record companies were falling over themselves to sign anybody with the right haircut and some shouted lyrics. Before it was too late.

As with many things hindsight allows you to come off looking as if you know exactly why something didn’t work and justify that the end result was just how it was meant to be. I think books that try to establish that are guilty of boiling things down to a simpler and more palatable solution whereas I think the actuality was far more complex. Punk in its 1976 1977 form (earliest recordings and concerts by The Sex Pistols, The Clash, The Damned, Buzzcocks et al) never really had time to mature into something bigger or more cohesive, within a year any band that was new was given a punk label (such as The Police or The Jam) even though the roots and ideals had nothing in common. When The Pistols basically became public enemy number one in 1977 the scene or the movement really had nowhere to go except in a different direction. A scene that was very creative, artistic, collaborative, incestuous and fluid suddenly became extremely violent, lacking in humour and more negative. Punk as a scene grew up far too quickly and never had time to mature into something that would’ve been just as interesting and creative as the original months were. Many subsequent scenes elsewhere were labeled punk which I am more than comfortable with, even though the only common denominator was often that less professional and privileged musicians were getting on stage and into studios to play rock music in a harder, faster or rougher way. I think on a regional basis no local punk scene has lasted nor could last more than about 18 months by which time the original purveyors are already expected to be moving on to something different by definition. Originality is and was the premise of punk in my opinion and as such it can’t really be repeated.

Perhaps that’s why I think The Clash above all others still stand out from that era, the debut album could only have been recorded at the beginning of 1977 and whatever came next had to ask new questions of the band and of course the listeners than the first time round the houses. The Clash knew that and yet were branded as disloyal to punk by the time 1978 rolled around and the music changed along with the date on the calendar. Some authors who seek a definition seem to feel that punk failed, but for me it was always just a starting point not a conclusion. It influenced how you felt, what you thought and your sense of just what authority meant. So much associated with the general recounting of the era focuses upon anger and boredom, disillusionment and negativity but I think the best examples of the music combated that with inclusiveness and possibilities, artistic flair and fashion,  questions and observations and maybe most importantly a need – the burning need – to get off your arse and to get involved with something with anything but not let apathy win out.

No idea if I’m any nearer the answers than I was before or if you agree but it’s a topic that won’t go away. You can order the book ‘The Cultural Definition of Punk’ via this link, I’m going to so perhaps you might too.

Hello you lot ~ welcome back to the blog or cheers for dropping in for the first time. If you read often you will know that I’m nearly at my wits end with the desert summer heat at this point but I forgot to mention the added extra we also see in the summer months once in a while – the dust storms. Directly east of me is open desert and a few times each year hot desert winds kick up a big wall of brown dusty air that is sometimes a few thousand feet high and then relentless winds bring the wall of dust into the city. It gets everywhere and you feel like you brushed your teeth with grit if you happen to be out in it. On the positive side on nights like tonight its then followed by a hurricane-like storm where heavy rain comes in sideways and the palm trees out back look like they are about to snap from bending too far over. Its been raining like that for well over an hour now so as long as the storm doesn’t knock out the power I will get this written. Flooding and trees down all over town according to the news and lightning  just stuck (not twice but once) the home of someone nearby we know of.

Our Price Records, 1980's - vinyl and more vinyl

I came to a realisation last night that keeping alive the importance of The Clash and their music – or indeed any music that you are really passionate about is partly and maybe mostly up to you as an individual to pass it on. For more than a few years now we’ve watched the decline of the record industry as huge chains of record shops and smaller neighbourhood versions both go to the wall due to the reduction in sales of CDs. Interestingly and encouragingly here its been the small independents that have weathered that storm better by connecting with their customers and creating a scene that people want to remain a part of. Meanwhile Tower Records and Virgin have both shuttered giant stores that used to be full of music and customers. I read that downloads now far exceed sales of singles versus a decade ago but therein lies the problem, people will purchase a song or two that they like but less and less often an entire album. Even the idea of bands releasing albums is considered closer and closer to being archaic. I’m probably at the end of a generation who collect music in a non digital format – my record and CD collection is both something I’m very proud of but also large, hard to move and not ideal for being mobile. One day I’ll have to decide who will want it when I’m done – once I thought it would be a kid to inherit it but now any younger person would look at me and say ‘just where do you expect me to put all that stuff?’ So now that people have digital music collections it doesn’t really lend itself to sharing in the same way as records or even CDs did. The thought of having someone bequeath a few I-pods full of tunes doesn’t have the same appeal as looking at album artwork and lyric sheets, yet even as I write this I know I’m sounding old and out of sync. Yet how do you keep the same passion for bands and artists when the connection is little more than a file on your hard drive?

Along with the slow death march of record shops is the current sad state of radio. It deserves a few articles on its own but for a city with over 2

When radio really mattered...

million people the radio in this town is little short of hideous. Its not just the lack of choice but the creative endeavour that dies with that lack of variety, a few giant companies own the bulk of American radio and its almost like they’ve now realised there is no reward in being truly independent as the internet covers all of those gaps so instead they’ll play nothing but established bankable artists round the clock. Even though there’s really no need for more Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith being channeled into cars driving round the suburbs, that really sums up the choice available outside of top 40 pop and rap in this city. Its not a good situation.

The optimistic side of me says that the internet counters a lot of the doom I’m reciting and to a certain extent that is true. Its easier and cheaper than ever before for a young band to not only get recorded but also to use myspace and any number of the dozens of online venues to get their music heard and ideally bought and downloaded. The glass is still just about half full when I remember the internet has not only led to the changes but also might be the only way forward in the not too distant future.

In spite of all this The Clash and many of their peers are riding a wave of respect unlike anything they experienced in the 80′s and 90′s. 15 years ago punk and post punk music hadn’t apparently matured to the point where anyone other than the original fans would be listening to it on a regular basis, never mind being motivated and inspired by it. At some point in the 90′s – I don’t recall the precise moment but I’m leaning towards 1997 something changed significantly. Maybe it was the 20th anniversary of when it all started? Suddenly saying out loud that a 5 year spell in music that brought about The Sex Pistols and The Clash, The Damned and The Jam, Talking Heads and X was possibly the most dynamic period of music we’ve ever seen. Perhaps the last truly genre altering period as the list of first generation bands and then the post punk apprentices created a musical legacy that was the definition of creative and inspired sounds. There have been brief spells since when it seemed something just as big was launching – Madchester in the late 80′s, Grunge in the early 90′s,  Britpop in the mid 90′s or the New York revival earlier this century. However each of those scenes seemed to end almost as quickly as they began partly because evolving was never on the agenda. Who picked up the pieces that the Stone Roses, Nirvana, Blur and The White Stripes left on the table anyway? That seems to be the stumbling block that punk and post punk never suffered from as it all changed so quickly and The Clash changed right along with it.

I guess I’m left thinking that word of mouth will need to do for the future – make sure people know that ska and rude boy sounds owe so much to The Clash and The Specials, that political rock of all shades was vein that passed from Dylan straight via Strummer and that Big Audio Dynamite were tying things together with rap and rock before the idea was even cemented. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully appreciate or have time to comprehend the overall brilliance of every great act in that spell between’77 and ’82 but I’m convinced it was crucial. Funny….last night was the Clash Bloggette’s daughters 12th Birthday. The bloggette announced to her daughter that “Wow, you have the same Birthday as Madonna” to which the child replied “Who?” (and she meant it). Goes to show being the biggest selling act of the 80′s and high up in the 90′s counts for nothing without word of mouth. Meanwhile the aforementioned 12 year old knows exactly who The Clash are and can sing along with the best of us even if she makes up her own lyrics at times (I blame Joe).

Mission accomplished I think…..word of mouth….

Hello again and welcome back to the blog, I hope your day mirrored mine in that you occasionally see something (a concert, a sunset, a pretty girl) that you know wasn’t exclusively for you but you realise you’ll remember it for years and maybe decades to come. In my years of going to concerts there are a few dozen that I’ll never forget in fairly explicit detail, while hundreds of others were great, good, fair or awful it’s the occasional brilliant moments we cherish.  I had one such moment today, I’ve been following Arsenal since I was a tiny kid and regularly attended games throughout my time living in London. Since leaving England I can’t say my commitment to the team has changed (it might be stronger than ever) and I probably watch 98% of their games even when it involves getting up at 430am to see them as it sometimes does. Over those 35+ years I’ve seen a few thousand goals and although you enjoy them all, once in a while you see one that you know will stick with you for many years to come. So it was a few hours ago when Samir Nasri scored a goal of pure grace today it makes you appreciate the beauty of the sport. I’ll enjoy that for a long, long time.

So this got me thinking about the first time I heard The Clash and the first time I saw them. It made me remember being introduced to songs and bands that become almost a part of who you are as they become embedded in your character. If you’re anything like me you’ll defend the music you love as much you might your own family (or perhaps more). If someone tries to convince me that The Clash don’t belong in a list of the 5 most important bands of all time we’ll have a long debate in store. If a legitimate fan of music tries to say that The Clash weren’t the single most influential English band to emerge from the punk/post punk era we’re going to have to disagree. I also looked at what The Clash and my football club have in common and it’s my big brother, who really introduced me to both.

My older brother turns 50 tomorrow, which I can’t quite fathom. Yes, he has always been 7 1/2 years older than me and the aging process was inevitable but surely he can’t be turning 50 years old. I remember the first post I ever wrote for this blog and reflecting on how my brother’s room was always the home of everything I felt guided by. In 1973 I’d take his Arsenal programs from his wardrobe to read while looking at the sleeves of albums by T-Rex, David Bowie and Roxy Music. The music that came from his  room was a constant soundtrack to being an adolescent and building expectations of what being a teen might be. By 1977/8 I understood that music was more than a hobby for him as it dictated his clothes, his girlfriends and the concerts he attended. I must have been ten when I noticed there was more passion and fire in the singles and albums he was playing, as Elvis Costello, The Clash had begun to dominate his turntable, replacing Queen and Wings. Later that summer of ’78 when I just turned eleven was when it all made sense to me. He took me to record shops, I started my own collection of vinyl. He started taking me to concerts, I began my own journey of determining what live music represents. I was already obsessed with football and suddenly I had to find time read the NME, Melody Maker and find the extra cash for the next single that he recommended.

I’ve no idea if I would have found The Clash and so much brilliant music without my brother, I’d like to think so but I can’t be sure. I’ve no idea if I may have instead found love for cricket or rugby if it wasn’t for him, probably not as we lived to play football when I was five…but I might not have attached myself to Arsenal. I’m so lucky my big brother left his bedroom door ajar for me to listen and I can simply say ‘Thank You’.

Happy 50th David.