Record: 1 Title: THE FURY AND THE POWER OF THE CLASH. Authors: GILMORE, MIKAL Source: Rolling Stone. 3/3/2011, Issue 1125, p60-79. 9p. Document Type: Article Subject Terms: *ROCK musicians *MUSICAL groups *ROCK groups *MUSICAL style NAICS/Industry Codes: 711130 Musical Groups and Artists People: CLASH, The (Performer) Abstract: The article presents an overview of the factors which resulted in the rock group The Clash's successful musical career and which resulted in the end of the group's career. A discussion of the views which the group's members had on a variety of subjects, including politics, is presented. In the article the author offers his opinions on the group's career and musical style. Full Text Word Count: 7583 ISSN: 0035-791X Accession Number: 58638005 Database: Academic Search Complete THE FURY AND THE POWER OF THE CLASH HOW THE ANGER THAT FUELED THE ONLY BAND THAT MATTERED ALSO TORE IT APART THE MOMENT THAT BEST EXEMPLIFIED THE CLASH didn't come in England, where they helped tear rock & roll history in half. Nor in America, where they fought for a recognition that, once won, helped pull them apart. Instead, it took place in August 1977, at a music festival in Liege, Belgium. The band was playing before 20,000 people and had been under fire from a crowd that was throwing bottles at the stage. But that wasn't what bothered lead singer Joe Strummer. What enraged him was a 10-foot-high barbed-wire fence strung between concrete posts and forming a barrier between the group and the audience -- dividing, as one reporter put it, the privileged from the less privileged. ## "Why is this space here?" the singer demanded to know. Strummer jumped from the stage and attacked the fence, trying to pull it down, while guitarist Mick Jones, bassist Paul Simonon and drummer Topper Headon played on warily. Festival stage guards dragged Strummer back, while the Clash's crew struggled to pull security off Strummer. Later, Simonon told writer Chris Salewicz, "It didn't seem like a gig. It was more like a war." The Clash were the only performers at the show who tried to do anything about the obstacle. They were more willing to run the risk of the crowd than to tolerate barbed wire that was meant to fend off that crowd. This is more or less what the Clash were about: fighting the good fight that few others would fight. They first made their mark in British music in early 1977 with "White Riot," a provocative song about frustration with brutal authority. It was the time of the Sex Pistols, the band that spearheaded punk as a musical and cultural uprising that blazoned discontent with British society. The Clash would outlast the Sex Pistols and come to epitomize punk, then outdistance the movement with sounds and ambitions all their own, until the band's effective end in 1983. Along the way, they asserted the boldest political worldview of any artists in popular music's history, moving from the narrow obsessions of U.K. punk sedition to the fiery reality of the world outside. The first time I met the band -- in London, Christmas week, 1978 -- Strummer told me, "We're trying to do something new; we're trying to be the greatest group in the world, and that also means the biggest. At the same time, we're trying to be radical -- I mean, we never want to be really respectable -- and maybe the two can't coexist, but we'll try." But the Clash's story isn't just about ideals. It is also about power, who has it and who doesn't -- in the real world, and in the band. By the time the Clash's mission was done, they had suffered derision, heartbreak and betrayal, at their own hands. "[As] it got bigger and bigger," Strummer said years later, "I felt worse and worse. It had something to do with what those songs are saying." MICK JONES, JOE STRUMMER and Paul Simonon -- the three enduring members of the band -each came from disrupted family lives, the sort of privation that would cause them to form a new union, but also never to fully trust that union. Jones, who wrote and arranged much of the band's music, was born in June 1955 to parents who quarreled intensely. "They had a bomb shelter in the basement of the flats," Jones recalled in Don Letts' documentary Westway to the World. His grandmother would take Mick down to the shelter when they argued, "and we'd wait for the raid to pass." When he was eight, Mick's parents divorced and his mother moved to the United States, leaving Mick in the care of his grandmother. "Psychologically," he said, "it really did me in." In 1968, Jones found recompense in the guitar power that he heard in Cream's Disraeli Gears, though in the years that followed he favored the more unkempt sounds of the Rolling Stones and Mott the Hoople, and American bands like the MC5, the Stooges and the New York Dolls. He took up guitar seriously in 1972, with the aim of forming a raunchy band. In early 1975, he founded the group London SS -- a workshop unit more than anything else. That same year, Mick Jones met Bernard Rhodes during a rock & roll show at a dingy pub. Rhodes -- in some ways the most crucial and troubling figure in the Clash's story -- was the son of a Jewish woman who fled Germany in 1945 while pregnant with Bernard, who was born in London's East End (according to Clash biographer Pat Gilbert, Rhodes' mother bought a birth certificate on London's black market to establish his citizenship). Rhodes never knew his father, and perhaps that lack played a part in the curious dynamic that later developed between him and Joe Strummer. When Mick Jones met him, Rhodes was printing T-shirts for conceptualist entrepreneur Malcolm McLaren at the controversial rock & roll boutique Sex, on London's King's Road. Both McLaren and Rhodes had been enamored of the Situationists, a Marxist movement that promoted provocative art ideas as the means to political change and that played a part in the May 1968 Paris revolts. McLaren wanted to apply Situationist principles to London's rock & roll scene, which had grown out of touch with Britain's social realities. He'd been looking to the New York scene that produced Patti Smith, Television, Richard Hell, Talking Heads and, perhaps most important, the Ramones, who created the breakneck template for punk. McLaren was determined to relocate that new sound and attitude to London, yet recast it for a disruptive cultural impact aimed at British social mores and the rock status quo. He found his means in the Sex Pistols, a band assembled by a Sex shop regular, guitarist Steve Jones. Once Rhodes introduced McLaren to John Lydon, an otherworldly singer with a strange charisma -- soon to be known as Johnny Rotten -- the Sex Pistols were ready to move into notoriety and legend. However, McLaren pushed Rhodes away from any oversight of the band. There was a competitive edge between the two men, and McLaren -- who envisioned orchestrating the new scene that would outrage popular music -- wasn't eager to share the moment. Rhodes, though, didn't intend to take a minor role in this cultural event; he wanted a band of his own to mastermind. In Mick Jones, he saw a quick learner with a necessary core belief that rock & roll should work as an agitation. Some of the musicians who moved in and out of Jones' London SS were also part of the scene around the Sex Pistols, including Keith Levene, an early guitarist in the Clash. Rhodes was looking for an equivalent to Johnny Rotten, and Jones hoped he'd found that person in Paul Simonon, a lanky young man with craggy good looks. Like Jones, Simonon came from a broken family. His parents separated when he was seven, and in his teens, he lived with his father, an art teacher and devoted communist. Though Paul once proclaimed, "Art is dead -- it's not the way to reach the kids; rock & roll is," he would also become an art expert, and eventually oversaw much of the Clash's graphic design. When Jones met Simonon in late 1975, he liked the soft-spoken young man's look -- cowboy boots; short, swept-up hair; oblivious gait -- but Simonon could only chant off-key. Still, Rhodes persuaded Jones to teach him bass guitar: Simonon possessed an insouciant cool that surpassed immediate musical talent. Others came and went -- in 1976, drummer Terry Chimes joined, and in that same year, guitarist Keith Levene would leave. Mick Jones was shaping up as a prolific songwriter, but he didn't have a feral voice, which was what Rhodes wanted: a frontman who could tell hard truths unflinchingly. IF YOU LOOK AT FILMS OF STRUMmer from his childhood (bits can be glimpsed in Julien Temple's 2007 film Joe Strummer: The Future Is Unwrit-ten), you see a playful, frenetic boy mugging before a camera. Even in still images -- posing with his father, Ronald Mellor, his mother, Anna, and brother, David, 18 months Joe's senior -- there's an irrepressible rascal in the young Strummer's face. The mischief stayed with Strummer, but along the way, a wary and haunted quality overshadowed him. His eyes were always flitting, maybe looking for something to trust, or looking for an escape route. Strummer's father was an English diplomatic officer, his mother a diplomat's wife.