Thursday, December 22, 2022

Joe Strummer / August 21, 1952 - December 22, 2002


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





© 2022 Ricki C.