It was Juvenile Jim who introduced me to the Clash. He had bought their first album because it had a Union Jack on the cover and was showing it off in the playground. I borrowed it off him, had a listen, and was hooked. The music was fast and furious, and the songs were about subjects I could relate to the perfect combination. Bowie was leaving Ziggy Stardust and Aladdin Sane behind with his new album Young Americans, Slade and Sweet were past their best, and a nation of young boot boys in their mid-teens were looking for something to fill the void. The sound of punk gave us that, while the words were a huge bonus, that Union Jack symbolising the way The Clash’s music and Joe Strummer’s lyrics tuned into what was happening in the Britain of 1977. From hooligan anthems such as White Riot and What’s My Name, to the speeded-up version of Junior Murvin’s reggae 45 Police & Thieves, via I’m So Bored With The USA, a song that matched the people’s love of American popular culture to a distrust of US foreign policy, Joe Strummer caught the mood of the time. Twenty-five years later he was back doing it with his new band the Mescaleros, his death cutting short a talent that still had a great deal to offer.

There were three major strands to punk those committed to the music and social politics of the lyrics; the good timers who enjoyed a drink and a tune; and the posers, fashion victims who missed the point but have gone on to write the official history of punk, even though they were the first to bail out. The memory has been hijacked, reinvented as little more than a Mohican haircut and studded collar, though anyone who was around at the time knows that it didn’t matter what you looked like, how you dressed, or where you came from. That was the whole point. Joe Strummer epitomised this open-mindedness and his lyrics were the strongest on offer.

That first album, The Clash, was the best punk album ever released, and despite complaints about the production, the follow-up, Give Em Enough Rope, wasn’t far behind. If Strummer had grown up in a country where literature was more open to those with an alternative take on life, maybe he would have been an author, but as it was his thoughts found an outlet in music. In the late 70s and early 80s rebel music was a million miles away from what we have today. Logos were for muppets, and if you spent more than a few pounds on your wardrobe you were considered a snob, or worse, a soulboy. Cocaine was for the rich, dope for middle-class hippies. The kids had beer, live music and football, and with punk the arrival of speed.

In terms of musical style, Joe turned a lot of people onto reggae and dub long before it became fashionable, not to mention rockabilly and even early hip hop. Great personal memories include three nights running at the Lyceum with the Slits and Members in support, and two hot back-to-back gigs at the Electric Ballroom with Mikey Dread, Joe Ely and a selection of buskers off the street. On the second night the air-conditioning broke down and Mick Jones took the mic and said they would never be touring again. We laughed and they played on for years. Mick was seen as flash and Joe thoughtful. Eventually they fell out, and the Clash broke up, but really they belonged together. Strummer and Jones were a better songwriting team that Lennon and McCartney, I don’t care what anyone says. They were a perfect balance, and drew in a big mixture of people scruffs, punks, skins, rockabillies. There was no trouble, music the common currency. Up and down the Westway we used to go to see them play, London’s Burning on the cassette player.

The Clash produced other great albums after Give Em Enough Rope. London Calling blended punk with 2-Tone-style ska, mixing the likes of Rudie Can’t Fail and the Vince Taylor cover Brand New Cadillac, and saw them become more than a Œpunk’ band. The next LP, Sandinista, took things further, a triple album released for the price of a single, a mass of styles blended together in a sprawling work of genius. The Clash now defied categorisation. What blended it together, made it work, was the voice of Joe Strummer. It was unique. Nobody sounded like Joe. Their last album, Combat Rock, was their weakest, but still way ahead of the opposition. After they broke up, Joe Strummer and Paul Simonon formed a new Clash, and released a decent album in Cut The Crap, but without Mick Jones and Topper Headon it was never going to be the real thing, and they too disbanded.

Apart from the albums, The Clash released some great 45s Complete Control, Clash City Rockers with its flip Jail Guitar Doors, and the incomparable classic White Man In Hammersmith Palais. When Pinochet was on the verge of deportation to Spain how many Clash fans thought of Joe singing Œif Adolph Hitler flew in today, they’d send a limousine anyway’. Even the B-Side, The Prisoner, was sheer class, looking to the Right, looking to the Left, but still looking for a way out. You didn’t have to be party political when it came to The Clash.

Joe Strummer released a solo album, Earthquake Weather, in 1989, which showed off his American influences and was an underrated effort, and then his output stopped. The Clash had received their share of criticism over the years, were called posers, told they spent too much time in America, were accused of selling out. True, they were photogenic and loved America and the rock n roll life, but they never sold out, simply moved on and were brave enough to experiment. They never lost their ideals either. They could have reformed for a one-off gig and been paid a fortune by the music corporations, but they refused.

When he was interviewed a couple of years ago about an exhibition of Clash photos, Joe turned on the interviewer and told the TV company had they had only turned up because of the imagery involved, that they had never listened to what he was saying then and they weren’t listening now. And he was right. The presenter made the usual smug no-nothing comment about old rebels and moved on. Many of the obituaries have also been predictable, concentrating on the later days of The Clash Combat Rock, well-known singles such as Know Your Rights, the fact that Joe Strummer’s father worked in the diplomatic service and put his son in a boarding school. Never mind what he achieved as a musician and a man. That same set of prejudices keeps going, though I’m sure Joe didn’t give a toss and nobody who followed his music did either. That was left to the narrow-minds, the bigots of all classes and political persuasions. Punk was beyond that, believed you could do anything you wanted, that there were no rules, no limitations.

Ten years after Earthquake Weather, Joe returned with a sharp new band, the Mescaleros, and released two albums in three years Rock Art And The X-Ray Style and Global A Go-Go. These records have a deep, thoughtful quality and reflect his love of music, his vocals once again pulling all the different strands together. The lyrics are as current as they have ever been. Played live, the songs had all the old power while his voice actually seemed to have got better with age. There were one or two nods to The Clash, but he stuck to his new material and versions of reggae number such as Pressure Drop and The Harder They Come. I saw him showcase the new material in Brixton and Shepherd’s Bush and the venues were packed, the music well received, a new generation swelling the crowd. He was on a roll of creativity and the future looked good. Now we will never hear the great music he would undoubtedly have produced. It is as if he has been cut down in his prime.

Joe Strummer stayed honest to the end. In this he mirrored many of the kids who grew up with his music. For a lot of people who got nothing out of their school days he was a an educator, and I believe he changed the direction of a lot of people’s lives for the better. He definitely had a massive effect on mine.

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John King is the best-selling author of six novels: ‘The Football Factory,’ ‘Headhunters,’ ‘England Away,’ ‘Human Punk,’ ‘White Trash’ and 'The Prison House.' He is also the founding editor of the seminal writing magazine, ‘Verbal.’ His novel, ‘The Football Factory’ has recently been adapted into a film. He lives in London.

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© 2004 Laura Hird All rights reserved.