Today is December 22nd, 2022, exactly 20 years to the day of the death of Joe Strummer.
This isn't gonna to be a long blog, or in-depth, or me belaboring my usual points; just a few remembrances, some videos and a song I wrote in tribute to Joe the week after his passing.
Just some things to remember him by.
I was in New Jersey on December 22nd, 2002, to spend Christmas with my lovely wife Debbie and her family. I was in the car on the way to some grocery store when I heard on the car radio that, "Joe Strummer, lead singer & songwriter of The Clash was found dead today in England." When I got back to the house my friend Ed Hamell (aka Hamell On Trial) for whom I served as road manager called and confirmed the news.
We couldn't believe it. Strummer was on a roll right then; fronting The Mescaleroes, his best band since his heydays with The Clash. I remember saying to Ed, "How will his family ever celebrate Christmas again?" the genesis of my song below.
So 20 years have passed and sometimes I find myself thinking that God and the gods of rock & roll took Joe home when they did so he wouldn't live to see what became of his beloved rebel music. (Bruce Springsteen charging $4000 for a concert ticket? Please. Really?)
So right at this moment I'm picturing Joe on some astral plane with a lit spliff dangling out of a corner of his mouth, trading licks with Chuck Berry and Tom Petty.
Joe, I'm still listening to your songs.
(For me, the main acid test of punk-rock music is, "Does it make me wanna break stuff?" On that basis, when I listen to the music of The Clash, it ALWAYS makes me wanna break stuff.)
inspirational verse; "And I'm not here to mourn Joe Strummer. I'm here to try - however palely -
with this acoustic guitar to honor his memory, to try to be worthy of his legacy,
to beg for just a bit of his bravery, to try to escape the slavery of all that which is not righteous,
of all that which is not the rock & roll" - Ricki C. / January, 2003
This blog originally appeared (in a slightly different form) on Pencil Storm.com.
WARNING! As befits a blog entitled Growing Old With Rock & Roll, this post contains whiny-ass Baby Boomer musings from a 69-year old individual who saw Bob Dylan & the Hawks live in 1966; The Doors and The Jimi Hendrix Experience in 1968; The Who in 1969; and Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band in 1978 on the Darkness On The Edge Of Town tour, and can’t seem to let ANY of us ever forget it. We guess the fact that he also saw and loved The Strokes in 2004 and The White Stripes in 2007 should indicate that he still has an interest in rock & roll music in the 21st century, but it remains a sad fact that those shows were 15 years ago at this point in 2022.
I witnessed these two videos on T.V. the same night - Saturday, January 15, 2022: Alejandro Escovedo on the 7th Annual Austin City Limits Hall of Fame presentation and Bleachers as the musical guests on Saturday Night Live. And they coalesced a lot of my feelings about what passes for “rock & roll music” these days and the presentation of that music on television.
Escovedo’s tune - “Put You Down” (originally released on his With These Hands record in 1996) is - if you will excuse my French - a fuckin’ masterpiece of song & performance. As this song was unfolding in front of my eyes on my Samsung, I found myself thinking, “I haven’t seen a musical presentation this powerful in YEARS.” Part of that is due - of course - to the Covid-19 pandemic’s sabotage of live rock & roll for almost the entirety of the last two years. The larger part of it is due, though, to the fact that Alejandro Escovedo is a musical genius, and actually STILL CARES about the PRESENTATION of his songs.
It’s all there: Escovedo’s “I wish I was a soul singer from the 1970’s and you better RECOGNIZE” stage attire; how incredibly TIGHT the combination of a core band, string section, and trio of backing singers are; the whisper-to-a-scream DYNAMICS of the song, from the string intro to the raging steel guitar and 6-string solos (by Lloyd Maines - father of Dixie Chick Natalie Maines - and David Grissom of John Mellencamp’s band, respectively), culminating in Alejandro’s Pete Townshend-derived windmills on the guitar at the conclusion to the tune. And that’s saying NOTHING about the impassioned vocals and stunning lyrics to the song. I must repeat; a fuckin’ masterpiece.
Bleachers’ presentation on Saturday Night Live - on quite the other hand - kinda left me cold. Much of my exposure to new music these days (because I don’t subscribe to Pandora or Spotify and the only things I listen to on Sirius/XM in the car are Underground Garage, The Tom Petty station, and the Bruce Springsteen station) is from late-night T.V. shows; Colbert, Seth Myers, SNL. (I refuse to even consider watching either of the Jimmy’s; Fallon or Kimmel.)
At least Bleachers seemed to be playing LIVE on SNL. These days precious few of the musical acts I see on T.V. can even be bothered to PRETEND they know how to play an instrument or sing in tune or in time. Questionable lip-synching abounds. And drummers? Fuggetaboutit. Jim Johnson would be appalled at how poorly these indie-rock and/or rap drummers PRETEND to be hitting those skins. These youngsters couldn’t find the (pre-recorded) beat if it fucked ‘em in a closet.
Sadly, that’s the extent of my (limited) praise for Bleachers. It seems like the lead singer guy can’t decide whether he wants to Jonathan Richman of The Modern Lovers in 1971 (a white t-shirt & blujeans as a stage outfit, really?) or (God help us) Bruce Springsteen in some unidentifiable time period. Either way, he fails rather spectacularly miserably. And the band as a whole is just a mess, sartorially. It seems like the young lady playing bass is the only member who gave even ONE MOMENT’S THOUGHT about what she was going to wear on national television. I am SO TIRED of seeing these rag-tag indie/modern rock acts take the stage in whatever clothes they woke up in that morning. I’ve been through this trend at least TWICE in my rock & roll existence so far; from The Grateful Dead and all those San Francisco bands in 1968 to Nirvana and the grunge guys in the 1990’s. (I think whoever manufactures threadbare t-shirts & nondescript ill-fitting pants decides who gets signed these days.)
Musically, “How Dare You Want More” just ISN’T A VERY GOOD SONG. And when lead singer John Antonoff and that sax player started doing pseudo-vintage Springsteen/Clarence Clemons trade-offs I found that I really just needed to avert my eyes in order to not change the channel or put a bullet through my T.V. Elvis Presely-style. I get the feeling Bleachers might’ve watched the E Street Band No Nukes performance on their tour bus while they were all high on weed & ‘shrooms and said, “Hey, WE could pull this off.”
I think Bleachers might believe they’re tapping into some grand long-lost rock & roll tradition that they can update and present (or peddle?) to a younger generation, but I’m afraid they just might be confusing imitation with inspiration, and artifice with art.
In summation, ladies & gentlemen of the jury, on the one hand - with Escovedo - you have passion, power & purpose; on the other - with Bleachers - you have pomp & play-acting. Just watch the videos and make your own choices.
ps. In my 2000-2010 capacity as road manager for Hamell On Trial I was lucky enough to get to meet and have a long conversation with Alejandro Escovedo backstage at a festival show both acts were playing. If you like and have a spare few minutes, you can read about that encounter here…….
