(The Clash play the Palladium tonight)

Clash conflict comes to town

By WILLIAM CARLTON

THE CLASH are coming! Send money, guns and lawyers! Call the cops, check the locks, load the guns and hide the girls. This gang of four rockin' rebels from Britain is gonna read the riot act at the Palladium tonight, and tomorrow too.

Think I'm kidding? This "new wave" band will curl your hair. This is the band that pioneered the punk revolution in England, that puts the knock back in rock, that waves a bloody red flag before all the world's hallowed institutions.

I thought protest songs went out with Joan Baez and Bob Dylan, but now that the head-in-sand '70s are over and the (hopefully) activist '80s are upon us, protest songs are making a big comeback. While the Clash sing their battle cries at the Palladium, pop stars like Jackson Browne, James Taylor, Bonnie Raitt and Bruce Springsteen will rip it up at the Garden for an anti-nukes benefit.

The Clash are four terribly bright and concerned citizens of the world with far more on their minds than nuclear energy. They have no specifie program for revolution; they belong to no party.

Clash conflict is at the heart of their music; with flaming Stratocaster guitars they send up an S.O.S. from the distressed, alienated youth of the world all messed up and no place to go, kids who in these shattered, exhausted days of zero expectations face a future black as the coal in Newcastle. The world is yellow through their jaundiced eyes.
The second Clash album has just been released here on the Epic label. What a whopper! Fifteen tunes and a bonus single with two more cuts.

On the intense, dense, fire-and-brimstone anthems Joe Strummer grapples with the words in a strangled, guttersnipe voice accompanied by his smashing rhythm guitar, Mick Jones' equally fierce and thrilling lead guitar, the pounding bass of Paul Simonon and the machine-gun drumming of Nicky (Topper) Headon. Besides having contempt for middlebrow society, the Clash would like nothing better than to crack a bullwhip on the back of mainstream, milquetoast music.

And the Clash are not terribly fond of the big, successful "new wave" bands either. They wish Blondie, the Cars and Nick Gilder all had one head so they could chop it off with a single stroke.

Strummer and Jones write the howling songs; just the titles tell you what they're about: "White Riot," "Hate and War," "London's Burning," "Police and Thieves." It's an incredible fusion of power poetry and rock 'n' roll.

The band is amid their second American tour. I rang up Jones who founded the Clash in England three years ago with fellow art student Simonon in Minneapolis the other day where the band performed for cornhuskers in over-alls. Midwestern America might not seem to be a very good petri dish for anarchist music, but Jones says the audience was very enthusiastic, as usual. And after the gig he caught two other top punk bands, the Buzzcocks and the Gang of Four, at a local club.

"Our music is nerve wracking," Jones says. "We're knackered (beat) after a show but we all share the burden. We're trying to open up the music, to let it breathe more now; we're playing more on this tour...if the audience get's off it makes us play better."

Jones says that there's about as much violence at their concerts as at any bar or football game.

I told him how great the new record is, how much I am impressed by the lyrics. "But you missed the point. You haven't said anything about the music," he said with an injured voice. "That's the most important thing."

I wonder if the Clash haven't painted themselves into a corner with their angry-young-men stance. How many such albums can they make before the passion cools for the band as well as for the public? Where will it end? But then I think it's a stupid question. If we could all see our ends, who would make a beginning? And the Clash are a brave new beginning.

Jones does indicate a certain cooling off for the Clash, however, a lighter direction. Don't expect them to start sounding like Barry Manilow in the near future, but Jones says, "I'm not feeling so depressed about things today. I'm getting happier now."

SkateBoarder Review: The Clash

"The Clash had them on their feet, often dancing, sometimes charging the stage." (Far left) The group's writing force, Jones and Strummer. (Center) Nicky "Topper" Headon, Mick Jones, Joe Strummer and Paul Simonon. (Left) Jones proved the Clash's most naturally flamboyant member.

Golden Hall, San Diego October 10, 1979 and Palladium Theater, Los Angeles October 11, 1979

The Clash's most recent slash and burn tour through the U.S., "The Clash Takes the Fifth," brought them to San Diego and L.A. on consecutive nights, enabling a few of us hardier souls to catch some of the subtleties of their otherwise hard-edged act at both shows, while taking note of their interactions with two contrasting audiences. The differences were as striking as the similarities. San Diego's Golden Hall, a mid-sized civic auditorium, developed a high

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school sock hop atmosphere due to the group's insistence that everyone "come up front and dance," and the fire marshall's order that the lights be turned on to reduce any real or imagined fire hazard. On the one hand, it was a bit incongruent seeing a group whose act is best suited to a dimly lit late night club, playing without the advantage of spotlights, light show, etc. On the other hand, because Golden Hall was only filled to about a third of capacity, the mass migration toward the stage increased both the intimacy and the frenzy in the audience's communal response. From their fast-paced lead-off, "Safe European Home," onward, the Clash had them on their feet, often dancing, sometimes charging the stage in playful adulation.

The L.A. audience, by comparison, seemed to be playing for keeps. Even before the group took the stage of the historic Palladium, kids were being subdued in the parking lot, the frontline crew was showering roadies with trash, and one particularly energetic youth broke into the managerial offices, relived himself on top of a desk, and punched his head through a wall before anyone realized what was happening. These were the kids whose suburban punk antics have been nurtured over the last year in L.A.'s sometimes explosive rock club scene. The hardcore here not only dressed the part, but acted it like veterans, despite scolding from the announcer and even the Clash's Mick Jones ("ing four years ago they used to spit!").

As expected, all this was only a warm-up for what was to come. Cutting into the same set as last night with equal or added fervor, the Clash immediately found themselves being approached from various points along the broad stage. Although these fervent fans were quickly muscled to the sidelines by roadies and security (at least those kids who preferred not to literally dive back into the sea of screaming pogoers), the assault squad only became more daring as the set built. Perhaps this was why the Clash didn't permit some of their audience on stage at the end for a farewell embrace, as they had in S.D. the night before. Fun is fun, but these youths don't know where to draw the line.

To be fair, however, the Clash did put on provocative shows. Relying on generally fast tempo material, they built climaxes that demanded some kind of primal response. The high, almost extreme, volume level likewise contributed to this effect, although this might have been as much to cover up Joe Strummer's hoarse lead vocals. (Or was Strummer hoarse from trying to overcome the loud instrumental?) At any rate, this problem did little to dampen the raging spirits of the fans, who undoubtedly know the lyrics anyway.

High points in both shows generally consisted of moments and riffs. In between the standard, cliche poses, Mick Jones punctuated certain decisive passages with stylish leaps into the air. Mick's amplified acoustic guitar on "White Man in Hammersmith Palis," likewise provided a welcome touch. The group's slightly discordant remake of Sonny Curtis "I Fought the Law," which has been drawing much local airplay. was wildly received. And a new reggae number probably entitled "No Justice" helped round out a surprisingly varied performance, which also revealed rockabilly and late-60's psychedelic influences (Asserted Strummer, "It's about time for the psychedelic revival!").

At the end of the Palladium show, the first and second acts, the honky-tonk Joe Ely Bank and the rockabilly Rebels, joined the Clash for a strong encore set ending in the classic "Be-Bop-a-Lua (She's My Baby)." Then it was off to San Jose for the headliners (where. story has it, both they and the Dead Kennedy's were almost eaten alive) and reportedly into the studio for an upcoming third U.S. album. Be watching for it.

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66S - Fort Lauderdale News, Friday, August 31, 1979

Rockabilly rides to revival on punk's popular coattails

By Kristine McKenna, Rolling Stone, LOS ANGELES

It's Elvis Costello night at L.A.'s famed country & western bar, the Palomino, but the opening act, Ray Campi and the Rockabilly Rebels, isn't about to be lost in the hubbub.

Midway through the Rebels set, guitarist Jerry Sikorski launches into his acrobatic show stopper, Eager Beaver Baby, wherein he backflips into the audience while swivel-hipped bandmate Rollin' Colin Winski gyrates and sneers a la Elvis Presley, that is. Meanwhile, 45-year old rockabilly veteran Ray Campi clambers atop his stand-up bass, plucking madly.

The Rebels sport vintage rockabilly garb and their set includes a hefty share of classic covers, but the five-man group adds up to more than a trip down memory lane; the Rebels are simply a damn good band. Good enough, in fact, that punk kingpin Joe Strummer of the Clash has invited them along for his group's U.S. tour this summer.

One of the surprise success stories of the punk onslaught has been a new lease on life for rockabilly the Southern "hillbilly" brand of R&B that exploded out of Memphis' Sun Studios with Presley in 1954. Over the past year, a thriving rockabilly crosspollination has developed between Los Angeles and London, spearheaded in Engiand by Campi's Rebels and in California by the British sextet Levi and the Rockats. (Oddly, neither group does very well on its home turf.)

The rockabilly revival has also been nurtured by a flood of newly available reissues and previously unreleased material, the best of which can be found on England's Charly label. According to Bob Say, West Coast general manager for Jem, the company that distributes Charly in the U.S., "We carry twice as much rockabilly now as compared to two years ago. There are huge markets for it in Los Angeles, San Francisco and Texas. The compilation albums sell very well, and Campi is also real hot."

Though punk and rockabilly may seem strange bedfellows at first glance, the two genres actually have much in common: both are renegade styles that value spirit over musicianship. "Almost all our American following is New Wave kids," says Campi. "They want music that's wild and animated, and that's exactly what rockabilly's about."

Campi, who had a minor rockabilly hit in the '50s before throwing in the towel to teach high school, formed the Rebels in 1976 at the suggestion of Ron Weiser, a revivalist who records several of L.A.'s hillbilly holdouts for his Rollin' Rock label. Weiser sent the Rebels to England, where they became cult heroes and were signed to Radar Records, the label that also boasts Elvis Costello and Nick Lowe. Despite the step up in record-company status, Campi's first Radar release, Wildcat Shakeout, fails to capture the sparkle of his live show.

Campi views the renewed interest in rockabilly with pessimism: "England's always been into rockabilly," he says. "But Nashville killed it in the U.S. during the '50s because it didn't go with their string sections and fancy productions. The record business has gotten progressively slicker, and I don't expect them to be any more supportive of rockabilly today."

After waging a generation-long battle for rockabilly, Campi's skepticism is understandable. Like punk, rockabilly in its heyday remained something of an outsider's movement, even as it helped alter the mainstream sound. But one of punk's accomplishments was that it created a climate slightly more hospitable to musical oddities and rockabilly is the favored musical oddity this year, especially in the U.K.

Art Fein, a Los Angeles-based

Please Turn To Next Page ****

Concert Review by Cindy Jourdan

God Save The Clash

Relaxing in his hotel room a few days before their concert at the Hollywood Palladium last week, The Clash's Joe Strummer looked like a tired cowboy, a scroungy James Dean figure in a pink cowboy hat. He was sullen but politely attentive.

"I feel really flat, like I've been run over by 30 steamrollers," he admitted, having arrived in L.A. late the night before. All he had really seen of the city was breakfast at Duke's. "Did you get that hat in Texas," I ask. "Sure did," he smiled, with a glint of a southern drawl.
"I'd probably like to live in Texas. I like the wind. They get into driving their cars in long convoys in the middle of the night, whoopin' out the window. With very little provocation."

Strummer lives in a land called England, a place so constraining it inspires people like The Clash to make fighting music. The band's raw, angry sound and the knee-jerk gutter Marxism that studs its lyrics are designed to provoke anger, pushing all forms of rebellion with an exultant affirmation of street solidarity.

London Calling is the title of their upcoming album, their third U.S. release. Central to its theme is a song called "Clamp Down," a reaction against the new Conservative government in Britain. "We've got a few songs of... advice," explains Strummer. "England's supposed to be the land of the free and it's not so, you know? Old Thatcher, she just stepped in and the first thing she did was (he snaps his fingers) the police, double pay. Some people in London are accusing us of left wing paranoia, meaning that we're painting it blacker than it is."

The new album and their previous work touch on British facism, Palestinian terrorism, fighting in the streets of Spain and Iran. I ask if anything The Clash has learned on their extensive U.S. tour might be reflected in future lyrics. The reply:

"Miami zilch." For a moment, bassist Paul Simonon breaks his absorption with the TV (he's watching Spiderman) and injects his only comment of the entire interview: "I think America's a bit wanky, actually."

Mick Jones, heretofore also reticent, chimes in with his opinion of American musicians. "I've been appalled by most of them. Most of the music I've bloody well heard has been the biggest load of shit. All the 52 states have one thing in common, and that is that you listen to shit music." He pauses for effect. "There are a lot of good bands around in England, where it's still happening."

In contrast to the clean sound achieved by producer Sandy Pearlman on Give Em Enough Rope, Strummer believes the mix on the new album will be "worse. Much muddier. We never even bother to tune the bass anymore."

"I never even bother to put new strings on," laughs Mick. "I never bother to fuckin' do anything."

At the concert a few nights later, sliding around on a stage slick with spit and threatened by an overzealous, encroaching mob of fans, The Clash pursued their usual lacerating attack until Mick Jones was knocked on his ass. Then they turned their anger on the audience. Strummer lashed out at the crowd with his guitar, then brandished his microphone stand over his head and smashed it against the drum platform. An incensed Jones took the mike a few minutes later and sputtered, "If you're wondering why we're kickin' the fans, it's because they're spittin' in our faces."

But nothing deterred these "fans," a vandal horde of South Bay teenagers who had turned the Buzzcocks' concert into a fiasco a few weeks ago, and seem just this year to have discovered "proper" punk protocol.

Despite an atrocious sound system and long delays, the concert was a powerful event. It culminated in a rockabilly jam with The Clash and the opening acts The Rebels and country renegade Joe Ely (Strummer's favorite American singer) which ended with Gene Vincent's "Be Bop A Lula."

"When England goes away, we'll still be here!" Strummer announced near the end. Indeed. Anyone who can survive spit drenched punk rock stardom has a shot.

Fan Trouble at Clash Concert

It's the music-not the audience-that normally is the story at rock concerts, but the opposite was almost true Thursday night at the Hollywood Palladium.

The evening was the old case of a small percentage perhaps 200 to 300 in the capacity crowd of 5,000-threatening to ruin things for those who had turned out for the return of the Clash, the most captivating of the British punk/new wave bands.

The rudeness first surfaced midway through the Rebels' opening set as a few fans began throwing paper cups and ice at the five-piece rockabilly group. Things accelerated when the Joe Ely band took the stage.

Ely plays a spirited brand of Texas honky-tonk music and, like the Rebels, is a favorite of the Clash. He opened for the band in Monterey last month and on several Texas dates. Yet, the unruly faction began hurling fruit and other items at him, causing the singer to duck a few times.

After hearing about what was going on, the Clash's Joe Strummer reportedly was ready to come onstage during Ely's set and scold the audience. But the majority of the crowd was responding enthusiastically to Ely, so Strummer stayed backstage. The Clash's emcee, however, did berate the troublemakers after Ely's set.

The tongue-lashing didn't help. The audience didn't throw things at the Clash, but a couple dozen people felt compelled to keep leaping on stage. The same thing happened Sept. 14 at the Buzzcocks concert at the Santa Monica Civic. Both shows were festival seating (no chairs on main floor).

Unlike at Santa Monica, the security staff Thursday generally pulled the stage-crashers to the side rather than hurl them back into the audience. Rather than be ejected, some fans simply dived back themselves-much like someone diving into a swimming pool. When three fans leaped back into the audience, they accidentally pulled Clash guitarist Mick Jones with them. Jones took it in stride, but he did react angrily later when someone apparently spit on him.

While the stage jumping was mostly just annoying and potentially dangerous, the pushing and shoving by a portion of the audience was flatly disturbing. For some, this wasn't the good-natured pogo dancing of all new wave shows. Some people were simply surly.
The important point is that there was little of this behavior when the Clash played the Santa Monica Civic last February. The energy level was high that night, but the mood was far more congenial.

Lara O'Mara, 20, North Hollywood, was disappointed by the "meanness" of part of Thursday's crowd. She said she stood near the stage at Santa Monica and pogo-ed to the music. At the Palladium, she said, she was pushed down and hit. "I'm only 98 pounds and I can't fight back, so I had to get out of there," she said, after moving to one of the Palladium balconies. "Everyone had a good time at Santa Monica. Those were the real fans, I think. Now, it's getting more commercial and it's attracting a different element."

People disagreed after the show whether the troublesome faction represented newcomers to the scene who were trying to live up to the grossly exaggerated stereotype of the punk movement or whether they were just toughs taking advantage of the situation to let out aggressions.

Either way, it was not an attractive attitude. Despite its negative image, the punk (and new wave) movement is a positive, liberating force-an alternative to the passive, sleepwalk attitudes of most pop music these days. It's a tradition that dates back to Elvis Presley and Little Richard. To react with as little consideration as a few hundred people did at the Palladium is no way to celebrate the most exciting development in rock in a decade.
Even with the troublesome elements, however, the Clash gave us another memorable evening. The band is playing with even more confidence and aggressiveness, and it has begun to work more varied musical wrinkles into what once was a powerful, yet occasionally one dimensional approach.

★

SIZZLING SUMMER: More than 800,000 persons attended concerts last summer at the Universal Amphitheater and the Greek Theater. The 516,926 figure at the 5,300seat Amphitheater and the 308,705 figure at the 4,800-seat Greek both are house records. The tallies mean Universal sold a phenomenal 99.2% of available seats for its entire season (23 headliners). The Greek's sales percentage was a robust 94.2% (28 headliners).

I was so much in awe of the Clash I couldn't talk to them

Thank you for the info, however, I beg to differ or question comments re Clash at Hollywood Palladium, Oct 11, 1979. I shot them and their opening act were local LA boys, the Rockabilly Rebels. I have color shots of them together backstage. And I shot both groups on stage together the night before in San Diego.

I was onstage for their March 3, 1980 Santa Monica Civic show. That venue barred photographers on the floor, although sometimes we could sneak in cameras. My black and white shots were stolen from the photo lab by junkies. I shot them in England end of June, beginning of July, 1980.

I remember when Johnny left the Clash and decided to work with Joe Ely, having met and toured with him in Texas. That was the first I heard of Joe Ely.

More pix, more stories to come. But I needed to know dates of shows and your site is not only invaluable for that, but Don Waller's (and others) comments. My first published photo was in "Back Door Man." Don, Phast Phreddie and I go waaay back.

Final thought: I was so much in awe of the Clash I couldn't talk to them or ask them to pose. I spoke with Mick Jagger, Johnny Rotten, no one intimidated me. Except the Clash.

I basically shot them onstage, although I hung with them and their road crew. Don mentioned their publicist, Sue Sawyer.

THE BEST LIVE BAND EVER. Photos don't lie.

Thanks again,
Jenny Lens

Jenny Lens: The first time I shot the Clash was their first CA gigs

Part 2...

The first time I shot the Clash was their first CA gigs, San Francisco. Then, I definitely know the Clash only played the Palladium in Oct, 79. I saw them in San Diego the night before, was picked up by Johnny Green and we went back to mny place in West Hollywood staying up up all night with tons of speed. At 4 PM, as he left for sound check, he asked me to give him a guest list of my friends. I was stunned, no one ever offered to get my friends in, I didn't know who had tickets nor a lot of last names.

Palladium: I only shot some backstage images w/Rockabilly Rebels who opened at San Diego (I have shots of Clash and RR onstage in SD). I don't recall the show at all. I hate the Palladium cos it's hard to shoot. I went to a party later. I followed Clash up to San Francisco. My best pal warned me she heard Lindy was looking for me, but didn't know what I looked like, so I hid out in the Cramps backstage dressing room. I had been up for days on speed and quite whacked. I'd been shooting pix for nearly 4 years and nearly the end, too broke and too many pix stolen, and I was burning out. I even could have gone/shot the Roxy show.

Jenny Lens: Finally Paul turn's up and Barry plays an intro of West Side Story's ‘Gee Officer Krupke

Online

At their last LA gig, the Hollywood Palladium last year, it seemed like most of the audience had come to see themselves up on the stage, a lot more intent on drawing attention to themselves than to let the Clash get on with their job.

The broadening out of the band's music on "London Calling" has brought the inevitable broadening of the audience, fewer jackboots and spiked hairdos, fewer fistfights, even a bit of teenybop appreciation for Mick from the young girls at the side, a smattering of imaginary guitar soloists and just the Clash on the stage (except for regular appearances by keyboardist Mickey Gallagher and a Mikey Dread-plays-Sinatra-to-Clash's-rude-boys bit at the end).

The recording starts (rather amusingly) with an angry Barry "Scratchy" Myers appealing to the audience who are fed up with waiting; "Lets calm down just a little bit, things are getting a little bit out of order, we've got to get this stage together out here, at the moment its like a fuckin' skating rink, [spitting presumably] someone's likely to break their necks or get electrocuted, you'd like to see that would you? You'd like The Clash to come on and get electrocuted! Yeah/ If you want that, fuck off! We're here to give you a fuck'in rock'n'roll show and you've done nothing but moan since we got here.. You don't deserve this, you deserve Boston, Kansas, Foreigner and all that kind of crap"

Finally Paul turn's up and Barry plays an intro of West Side Story's ‘Gee Officer Krupke; "Our mothers all are junkies, Our fathers all are drunks, Golly Moses, naturally we're punks"

Safe European Home kicks off what sounds like another strong performance although the poor recording renders that difficult! Before London Calling Joe tries to settle the crowd "OK I'd just like to say Los Angeles is the most likely city in the entire USA to make it. What I mean make it is you've got some good groups coming up. Now everybody back off a little bit."

Joe sings a new verse on Jail Guitar Doors as he would create for each gig on the tour, but the recording is too poor to hear the words. Mickey Gallagher comes on before Wrong Em Boyo. Clampdown has an edit, which loses about a minute due to tape damage.

"Talking about the law, Julies been working for Joe Strummer!"

During Clash City Rockers as a result of spitting or some other incident the song drops to drum and bass only then stops unfinished. Kosmo shouts excitedly "Everybody must go back, now go back all of you" Joe "Or as they say in England the buggers in the back can't see!"

Strangely as there appears to be no edit Topper then picks out a repeated drum pattern, with Joe doing his customary cries of "Woahh! Woahh!" for Police and Thieves but the song continues as though it were mid song cutting out the opening music. As the song ends a very angry Mick shouts "If anyone wondering why I'm kicking the bands (?) its because the bleedin' bands are spitting in me bleedin' face, that's fuckin' shit! 3 years ago there was spit". The band then refuse to continue, playing a loose jam with Joe singing "Walking on Sunset, trying to pull a funny face!". Eventually Mick shouts angrily "1,2,3,4" and Stay Free is played.

There is then an edit, which almost certainly loses Career/Janie/Garageland/ Armagideon/ & Capital Radio.

It restarts with Joe Ely singing Fingernails and goes straight into Brand New Cadillac and Be Bop A Lula with Joe Ely sharing vocals. The sound is particularly poor now and Kezar two days later is the best source for the rarity Be Bop A Lula. Normally White Riot would be played after Fingernails but not here, maybe as pay back for the audience's behaviour?