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  The albums showcase a renewed, vibrant Joe Strummer producing music that is remarkably different from his previous work. I mentioned that I watched a taped interview in which he cautioned young people not to buy his new music if all they wanted was a replay of “Rock the Casbah.” I ask him to elaborate. “Simple,” he said. “New bands are going around saying we love the Clash but they have no sense or understanding of history” neither culturally nor politically. He added that they “pick up the new stuff and expect to hear songs like ‘Rock the Casbah,’ which is not at all what I am doing now and furthermore ‘Casbah’ is easy.” The word “easy” was a serious putdown from an artist who always worked to be challenging.

  Like his work with the Clash, the new music with the Mescaleros is original and political, but more insightful and mature. With the musical growth there is a deepening of political consciousness reflected in stunning compositions and poetic, freely associative lyrics concerning a host of global subjects. Both albums focus on many social issues, but most poignantly Global A Go-Go captures Strummer’s take on how war, poverty, and intolerance are ripping the world apart. Songs like “Johnny Appleseed” chart the impact of globalization and “Bhindi Bhagee” discusses the need for ethnic tolerance. The songs are intelligent Woody Guthrie–like meditations but with a multicultural internationalist awareness that stands against global capitalism. “Shaktar Donetsk” laments the fate of illegal refugees seeking haven in England, who suffocated in a smuggler’s truck:

  Welcome to Britain! In the Third Millennium

  This is the diary of a Macedonian

  He went to Britain in the back of lorry

  Don’t worry, don’t worry, don’t hurry

  Said the man with a plan

  He said, if you really wanna go

  You’ll get there in the end

  If you really wanna go

  Alive or dead my friend

  Well you can levitate you know

  Long as the money’s good you’re in

  Strummer left much unfinished. With Bono of U2 and Dave Stewart formerly of the Eurythmics, he was working on a song in tribute to Nelson Mandela titled “48864,” after Mandela’s prison number. They were going to perform it together at the end of the Mandela SOS AIDS benefit concert for Africa on Robben Island on February 2. The Clash had planned a one-night-only reunion at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony in March 2003.

  Speaking on the day of Strummer’s death, Billy Bragg found the right words once again: “Joe was always breaking new ground musically and politically . . . he is one of the last artists who was not afraid to be on the left politically, a thorn in the side of capitalism.” Chuck D, path-breaking rap artist and founding member of Public Enemy, credited Strummer and groups like the Clash with “showing me that music can be a powerful social force and it must be used to challenge the system.”

  At the end of each show, Strummer and the Mescaleros performed a cover of the classic resistance song “The Harder They Come, the Harder They Fall” by reggae great Jimmy Cliff. As usual, Strummer put his indelible mark and unique spin on the song. Playing the same Telecaster guitar he started out with over twenty-five years before and using his cutting, brash voice with uncompromising bluster, he let us know:

  And I keep on fighting for the things I want

  Though I know that when you’re dead you can’t

  But I’d rather be a free man in my grave

  Than living as a puppet or a slave . . .

  _____________________

  Originally published in Monthly Review, June 2003.

  INTRODUCTION TO

  “THE VERY ANGRY CLASH”

  By Antonino D’Ambrosio

  The year punk broke in England has been immortalized as “year zero.” Everything that came before 1976 never existed; punk promised something completely new and above all better. It was a movement away from bloated rock stars and overproduced music. Bank clerk Mark Perry was among the hordes of youth who were transfixed and transformed by the new punk scene. Perry found himself in the middle of “something big” and he wanted to be a part of it. His involvement would take the form of the first comprehensive punk zine, Sniffin’ Glue and Other Rock ’n’ Roll Habits. More than just a fanzine, it was a magnificent music sheet that translated punk’s DIY ethic, compelling visceral style, and strident social power into an accessible document for all to read. Perry named the zine after the Ramones’ “Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue” because, as he explained in Sniffin’ Glue: The Essential Punk Accessory, “I thought that if anything summed up the basic approach to the new music, it was the lowest form of drug taking.”

  The Rock On record stall in Chinatown’s Newport Court in London was the first to sell Sniffin’ Glue. The first issue, which appropriately featured the Ramones, sold very quickly. In that issue, Perry described the Ramones as giving him “power and freedom and that’s what I want.” Just as punk music was straightforward all-systems-go, there was a hunger for the type of music journalism that told the reader directly what was happening in the new music scene that seemed poised to take over England. Shunning a glitz or glam approach, Perry filled the gap between the music and the audience with witty, well-informed, timely writings that contrasted sharply with the lackluster media attention, which was mostly negative or derisive, enveloping punk at the time. Even more, Sniffin’ Glue served as a counterpoint to the slickly produced magazines that were stuck reporting on the arena rock stars and glam bands that dominated the early part of the 1970s.

  The articles went right from the typewriter to the Xerox machine. Titles were handwritten. No fancy graphic design and layout here. Illustrations were limited to a few simple drawings, and it wasn’t until the third issue, featuring Brian James of the Damned on the cover, that pictures found their way into Sniffin’ Glue. The first time Joe Strummer’s music was discussed in Sniffin’ Glue, he was not yet a member of the Clash but was still with the 101ers. In the first issue, Perry reviewed the 101ers’ single “Keys to Your Heart,” describing it as “a really great song by a really great band.” In issue 3½, the Clash would make the first of several appearances in the magazine with Perry branding the group as the “most powerful band on scene” in his review of the 100 Club Punk Festival.

  It was no surprise when Sniffin’ Glue provided the first good interview and glimpse into the world of the Clash, “The Very Angry Clash,” written by Steve Walsh. Perry and Walsh had managed to arrange an interview with the Clash at their rehearsal studios near the Roundhouse in Chalk Farm (Camden, London). According to Perry, meeting the Clash was like going to “a secret training camp for urban guerrillas.” Perry added that the time with the Clash “proved the band were totally committed to their music and they understood that the best way to avoid being misrepresented in the press was to put on a united front.” He concluded by describing the Clash “as the most important band to emerge” up to that point; “if anyone was going to win the revolution I felt it was going to be the Clash.”

  As Strummer points out in the documentary Westway to the World (2000), Sniffin’ Glue offered the first true punk rock criticism and analysis. The magazine would be instrumental in getting the music and message of punk out to many who otherwise might not have been exposed to the scene. Perry boldly achieved one of the promises of punk: if you do it yourself, you will find yourself. When he found his voice, Sniffin’ Glue became a vital part of the punk rock moment. Perry and his contributors covered the punk scene for just one year, producing twelve issues. Nearly three decades after they banged out the first issue of Sniffin’ Glue, it remains an important commentary on a music scene that quickly faded away.

  THE VERY ANGRY CLASH

  By Steve Walsh

  All the power’s in the hands,

  Of people rich enough to buy it,

  While we walk the streets

  Too chicken to even try it.

  And everybody does what they’re told to,

  And everybody eats supermarket sou
l-food,

  White riot!

  —“WHITE RIOT,” THE CLASH

  The Clash rehearsal studios are situated somewhere between Dingwalls and the Roundhouse. Inside it has been decorated—pink and black color scheme—by the band. The downstairs studio, where the band rehearses, is equipped with a jukebox; pink drapes hang from the ceiling—very tasteful. I talked to three of the band (Mick Jones—guitar, Paul Simonon—bass, and Joe Strummer—guitar) in the upstairs office.

  Mick tells me that he and Paul have been together for about six months and with Joe since the 101ers broke up. They told me boredom inspires their songs. “It’s just that I can’t stand not doing anything,” Joe explained.

  Steve Walsh: What’s the name about, why call yourselves Clash?

  Paul Simonon: Well, it’s a clash against things that are going on . . . the music scene, and all that we’re hoping to change quite a lot.

  Steve Walsh: Does this mean you’re political?

  Mick Jones: Yes, we’re definitely political!

  Joe Strummer: We wanna be the apathy party of Great Britain, so that all the people who don’t vote go out and don’t vote for us!

  Mick Jones: We’re really into encouraging creativity. . . . We ain’t a bunch of raving fascists!

  Steve Walsh: Are you a bunch of raving anarchists?

  Joe Strummer: I don’t believe in all that anarchy bollocks!

  Mick Jones: Yeah, anarchists believe in lawlessness. . . . Look, the important thing is to encourage people to do things for themselves, think for themselves, and stand up for what their rights are.

  Steve Walsh: You hate apathy?

  Mick Jones: Oh, I fuckin’ hate apathy but I hate ignorance more than anything.

  Steve Walsh: Do you try to put this over in your songs?

  Mick Jones: All our songs are about being honest, right? The situation as we see it, right?

  Steve Walsh: Right! So the songs relate directly to you and your environment?

  Mick Jones: Right, otherwise we’d be writing bullshit!

  Steve Walsh: So, what do you want to happen today?

  Joe Strummer: What I’m most aware of at the moment, is that most people in London are going out every night to see groups or something and they’re making do with rubbish and because everything else around is rubbish, it’s not immediately apparent that it’s rubbish. People are prepared to accept rubbish, anything that’s going. I mean, every single LP anybody plays me in any flat I go to and they say, “this is good” . . . it’s rubbish and they have got nuthin’ else to play . . . the thing is they’ve got to think it’s good, otherwise they go insane . . . .

  Mick Jones: . . . And it’s all shit!

  Steve Walsh: What’s shit?

  Mick Jones: All them records, right . . . you know, you can’t go out and buy a record ’cause you know it’s just, like, fuckin’ bollocks . . . just a load of shit!

  Joe Strummer: The only good one is that Ramones one.

  Mick Jones: Yes, the Ramones record is good. [Doorbell rings—in strolls Mark P. to spoil my fun.]

  HERITAGE

  Joe Strummer: It’s our heritage. . . . What are we livin’ for, two-room apartment on the second floor. That’s English, not what’s goin’ on now.

  Mick Jones: They’re the most important English band. Like Mott the Hoople’s Ian Hunter always spoke to the kids straight and even when they went to the States and they were getting a bit flash and a bit dopey he still used to sing about the dole and he had to translate for the Americans and say, “Look, this is really the welfare.” They don’t know what the fuckin’ dole is, where as we’re all down the dole anyway, coppin’ our money off Rod Stewart’s taxes!

  In 1977 I hope I go to heaven,

  ’Cos I been too long on the dole,

  And I can’t work at all.

  Danger, stranger! You better paint your face,

  No Elvis, Beatles or Rolling Stones, in 1977!

  —“1977,” BY THE CLASH

  Steve Walsh: What do you think is wrong with people today?

  Mick Jones: They’re apathetic . . . boring . . . boring music bores me! Boring ’cause it’s not new, boring ’cause it’s not . . .

  Joe Strummer: It’s a lie . . .

  Mick Jones: . . . They ain’t pushin’ themselves nowhere; they ain’t being creative.

  Joe Strummer: Where’s that picture of the George Hatcher Band?

  Paul Simonon: Oh yeah, that’s a real joke, that is . . .

  Joe Strummer: We found this to be . . .

  Mick Jones: Hilarious, have you seen it? [They hold up an advertisement for the George Hatcher Band showing two members in typical stage pose.]

  Joe Strummer: I mean, the whole thing is a lie, it means nothing.

  Mick Jones: Except that they’re on tour with Dr. Feelgood.

  Joe Strummer: All this crap like, oh yeah, they’ve got long hair and he’s got his arm up here and look at his cowboy shirt and the trousers.

  Steve Walsh: What have clothes got to do with it?

  Mick Jones: Well, this is what rock ’n’ roll’s supposed to look like . . .

  Joe Strummer: It’s a state of mind.

  Mick Jones: What’s the difference between this ad and the cover of last week’s NME? It’s the same pose, ain’t it? I think that’s the same pair of trousers, from “Jean Machine.” [Mick is referring to the previous week’s cover pic of the Rod’s Dave Higgs.]

  Mark P.: But they’re a pair of trousers!

  Joe Strummer: No, you can’t say that’s clothes and this is music; it’s a state of mind, a complete thing. If anything was going on in that bloke’s head he would do something about it.

  Mick Jones: To show he was a person, he would’ve done something to himself. Now, he’s just showing that he’s one of the many—a consumer, i.e., I eat shit all the time!

  Steve Walsh: Everyone’s a consumer. I mean, if you go down to Sex and buy a pair of leather trousers you’re still a consumer. That’s the odd thing about the ’70s, in order to change society you must first consume it. [You can tell he’s been to art school—Ed.]

  Mick Jones: Yeah, but if it comes out of creativity. Some people change and some people stay as they are, bozos, and they don’t try to change themselves in any way.

  Joe Strummer: We deal in junk, you know, I just realized that the other day. We deal in junk. We deal in, like, the rubbish bin. What we’ve got is what other people have put in the rubbish bin. Like Mick’s shirt was gonna be put in the bin until he paid 10p for it. I mean, you ain’t gonna go down to Sex with yer ten quid stuffed in yer pocket and buy some stupid . . . er . . . I dunno, I’ve never even been down there.

  Mick Jones: I think it’s a bit easy to go down there and look great. I mean, their stuff’s pretty good. Looks good to me, but I think the way we do it is much more accessible to kids ’cause anyone, at very little price and it encourages ’em to do something for themselves. It’s to do with personal freedom . . . I don’t think it’s just the trousers though, I mean, the trousers reflect the mind.

  Joe Strummer: Like trousers, like brain!

  White riot, I wanna riot!

  White riot, a riot of my own!

  Steve Walsh: Would you say your image is violent or suggestive of violence?

  Mick Jones: It reflects our “no-nonsense” attitude, an attitude of not takin’ too much shit. I don’t like violence though.

  Steve Walsh: What do you think of the aura of violence that surrounds the Pistols? I mean, it can easily get out of hand.

  Joe Strummer: I think it’s a healthy sign that people aren’t going to sleep in the back row.

  Mick Jones: I think people have got to find out where their direction lies and channel their violence into music or something creative.

  Steve Walsh: Thing is, you talk about being creative but say the thing got so popular that we had all those fuckin’ footballs and discos and all that lot coming down to see Pistols gigs. They’d take the violence at face value and go fuc
kin’ crazy!

  Mick Jones: So you think it can get out of hand?

  Steve Walsh: You bet it can . . .

  Mick Jones: It got out of hand on Tuesday [100 Club fest glass-throwing incident].

  Steve Walsh: I reckon it could get worse.

  Mick Jones: I definitely think it could escalate but the alternative is for people to vent their frustrations through music, or be a painter or a poet or whatever you wanna be. Vent your frustrations; otherwise it’s just like clocking in and clocking out . . . clock in at the 100 Club, every one comes in, everyone clocks out. It ain’t no different.

  Steve Walsh: How much change do you want? D’you want a revolution?

  Joe Strummer: Well . . . yeah!

  Steve Walsh: A bloodless one or do you want just total chaos?

  Joe Strummer: No, I’m just not into chaos, and I don’t believe it when people say they are ’cause you’ve got to be a special type . . .

  Steve Walsh: Of maniac?

  Joe Strummer: Well, a Frenchman about 100 years ago could be into chaos ’cause it was possible then, but nowadays, this is like sleepy town. So, when someone tells me they’re into chaos I don’t believe it. What I would like to see happen is, very much . . . I realize a lot of people are quite happy, you know, at that market down the road from here. All them people, they’re as ’appy as sand boys and I’d just like to make loads of people realize what’s goin’ on. Like, all those secrets in the government and all that money changing hands and every now and then it comes to light and someone gets sacked and someone else comes in the backdoor, know what I mean? I’d like to get all that out in the open and just see what’s goin’ on. I just feel like no one’s telling me anything, even if I read every paper, watch TV, and listen to the radio!

  RADIO