Now war is declared, and battle comes down

It would have been Joe Strummer's birthday last Friday. A light went out the day he passed and the world has been getting dimmer ever since. Fact. His loss, as with Lennon before him and Bowie a few years later, was seismic. The shock of losing that particular triumvirate still resonates to this day.

My friend Ian Prowse pays homage to Joe and The Clash on his new long player, No Names. 'Rendezvous Point' namechecks 'Michael, Joe, Topper and Paul' and the accompanying video is peppered with archive footage of the best gang in town. And then right at the end there's a cutaway to Ian standing by the Thames with his guitar singing those anthemic opening lines:

London calling to the faraway towns

Now war is declared, and battle comes down 

Ian Prowse: Rendezvous Point (2026)

Joe Strummer (1952-2002)

The Last Gang in Town

I just want to say a few words about our small, but perfectly formed, Bloggers Meet-Up last week. One or two of us who have been writing blogs since the dawn of time have been threatening to meet up in the real world for longer than I care to remember; and so it came to pass that last Tuesday the waves parted, the planets aligned and the rail network remained strike-free long enough to enable six humble scribblers to make the long journey to Edinburgh - following some mythical siren call to come and spend a few days in each other's company. And what a splendid few days away it was too. Although my fellow bloggers' anonymity* prevents me from telling you who came to feast at the top table, I'm sure you've all read enough of my back issues to piece together who the runners and riders were.

And in real life, just like our blogs, the conversation was convivial, the company was scintillating and the music was, ahem, banging. Thank you to everyone who came and made the excursion so life affirming; let's hope we can do it all over again in '23. 

* Tho' they did allow me to use the thinly disguised photograph (above) which was taken outside a rather lovely hostelry. (Don't worry, we had plenty more taken inside hostelries!)

Tommy this and Tommy that

I may have a thing about Led Zeppelin tribute bands; I said as much here, and here. And, after my recent to the west coast of Scotland, I could soon be hurtling down a similar rabbit hole with Clash copycats.

It comes on the back of me seeing the above flyer in a cracking little music boozer in Dumfries - imagine a low rent O2 crossed with the Clansman and you've got the picture. And what a picture. The Tommy Guns have utilised that iconic photo of Don Letts squaring up to the rozzers during the Notting Hill Carnival Riots of 1976 to great effect.

Like Zeppelin, names for Clash tribute bands almost fall out of the sky: Radio Clash; Police & Thieves; the White Riots; London Calling; Complete Control; They Shoot Pigeons Don't They; Combat Rock; Burning London; the list goes on.

As an aside, I used to work alongside a fella called Tommy Dunne. And if you listen carefully to this masterpiece by the New Piccadillys* you'll hear not only Complete Control, but also a final Tommy Gun flourish.

The New Piccadillys - Complete Control (2019)

* A huge thank you to The Swede for pointing me in the direction of this slice of brilliantness (seeing Joe and Mick behind the glass in Supermarionation is, as TS said, genius).

C is for Clash

I received a lovely email earlier today from C over at Sun Dried Sparrows. I'm sure she won't mind me reprinting it here - though I have taken her full name off the bottom!

Hi John 

Hope all is good with you! It was a lovely idea you had to gather some more 'Swedey McSwedeface'* shots from fellow bloggers recently. If you're still on the lookout for some, then here's mine! I finally managed to track down a vinyl copy of this, the first album I ever bought 40 years ago. Sadly I got rid of the original a long time ago to replace with a CD, kinda wish I'd kept it now, just for posterity. This one's not the same issue - I distinctly remember 'The Clash' being printed in a vibrant orange, practically fluorescent, whereas it's red here - but I paid under a tenner for it and it was lovely to be reminded of it full-size. If only it wasn't so tatty (mine was well-loved but well-kept too) and didn't smell like a damp cellar, where it's probably been for the last 40 years. I'll never forget hearing Janie Jones for the first time when I asked them to put Side One on in my local record shop, Startime. I'd saved up my pocket money for months. I just had to have it.

Thanks and all the best 

C

Here's a version of Janie Jones that caught my eye recently. I hope it meets with C's approval.

Pris - Janie Jones

* In case anyone doesn't know what a Swedey McSwedeface is.

Single-minded

Morgan Howell - a singles artist

Remember Land of the Giants, that mysterious planet where everything was 12 times larger than its counterpart on earth? Morgan Howell's paintings may not be quite that big but his jaw-dropping 3-D reproductions of classic singles, c/w their often creased and torn paper sleeves, measure 27" x 27" - thus living up to their tag of SuperSizeArt. His work is much in demand and is frequently commissioned by the great and good who all want one of Howell's incredible creations hanging on their wall.



I managed to tear Morgan away from his paintbrushes long enough for a mild interrogation:

What was the first single you bought?

I wish I could say it was Bowie, or Lou Reed. But it was Alvin Stardust and Tell Me Why from 1974. I used to draw him with his sideburns, black outfit and gloved hand holding the mic at a seemingly impossible angle. 

What makes you want to paint a particular record – is it the record itself, the writing on the label or the sleeve?

I have a list that I’m working through, though occasionally I do get interrupted by a commission, or a request for a show piece. This has happened recently with Agnetha from Abba and The Eagles.

Looking at some of the stuff you've painted, it's the 'distressed' sleeves with rips and tears that really capture a record; they're the ones that were taken to parties and had beer spilt on them. Did you look after your vinyl as a kid?

Big audio

I wouldn’t have given much thought with the 45s, as long as they played. I was more careful with albums and eventually got record boxes so I could take stuff to parties. Now of course I love the wear and tear. The objects themselves have gotten old and worn like us and more interesting for it.

Ever been tempted to work through a label's entire back catalogue (turkeys and all) – say Stiff Records for instance? (starting with BUY-1 The Damned's New Rose).

No, though many people have asked if I’d paint New Rose. So you’re a Damned fan eh?

I see you do boys annuals now. Where else do you see Supersize going? Classic paperbacks? Postage stamps? Dollar bills?

I might paint a giant Curly Wurly. 

(Personally, I'd love to see Morgan have a stab at some of these)

How long do they take to paint? Longer than it takes the band to write and record the record you're recreating?

They usually take a couple of weeks depending on the complexity. The Beatles 'Apple' 45s took longer as I had to paint the cracked black lacquered sleeves and it took a while to get that right. Dancing Queen needed to be ready for Agnetha in under a week.

I've always liked the RCA bags, have you got a favourite design? I love the orange and green one.

My current favourite is 'You Never Can Tell' on Pye International. A fabulously evocative design with the stamped R&B motif in the right hand corner of the bag. And one of Chuck Berry’s finest to boot.

Beatles or Stones? Beatles

Stereo or mono? Stereo

Jukebox or iPod? Juke

Fade out or proper ending? Proper ending. The ballad of John and Yoko and Teenage Kicks being two great examples.

And, finally, which one of your paintings are you most proud of?

Probably most proud of Hey Jude/Revolution on Apple as I gave them to Cancer Research and they were auctioned at Abbey Road by Al Murray and made a fortune. I was stunned and a career was born.

Morgan's website: www.supersizeart.com

I blame Joe Strummer

Cod Reggae: the clue's in the name. If there was an FM station that, heaven forfend, only played this watered down white man's reggae it would probably have the first two Police albums on a permanent loop with 10cc's Dreadlock Holiday thrown in for good measure. And maybe Nice 'n' Sleazy by The Stranglers if they were really pushing the boat out and ting.

Don't get me wrong, if it's done right it can be served up as a delicacy; but for every White Man In Hammersmith Palais there's a Reggae Like It Used To Be (Paul Nicholas really was old enough to know better). Likewise, for every Big Six (Judge Dread was actually on the Trojan label) you've got The Tide Is High - Blondie stylee. Or even worse, Seaside Woman by Linda McCartney; that's right, her take on reggae was about as authentic as her sausages. And before the hate mail comes in, I will gladly put forward Macca's C Moon and praise it to the hilt. Skanking.

Mettlers usually stay well clear of this sort of thing. But Girl were different. That's why I always had a soft spot for them - especially this pleasant little ditty lifted from their 1980 debut album, Sheer Greed: my Cod Reggae guilty pleasure.

Girl - Passing Clouds

Donnelly's

They say that Giles Coren has been trying for weeks to get a table at Donnelly's. If the buzz has reached Kentish Town, then Londoner Steve Donnelly is obviously doing something right. Situated in the fashionable end of First Avenue, Donnelly and his head chef Rachel Macaleese are turning heads with their delightfully eclectic dishes whilst, very politely, sticking two fingers up at the food police. They don't give a flying f*ndue about gossip columns, Michelin stars and restaurant critics who get nosebleeds if they venture further than the North Circular.

When the GLW and I went along last week we were greeted by Steve in his typical gravelly tones; though he fled the capital ten years ago, his north London vowels are still much in evidence: 'Evening. Parky out there?' Aperitifs are served in the Railway Lounge where a log burner brings your body temperature back into double figures, in stark contrast to the driving snow that's piling up outside.

The gin is export and it's hitting the spot. We are told that the Culture Clash menu is on tonight; for those of you not in the know, The CC menu is akin to The Holy Grail; many have heard about it, few have tasted it. I'm getting excited.

We go through to the dining area. Taking the table nearest the window, I pick my runners and riders. I decide to start with the Naum Bunchjop and for mains I stick a pin in the Honey Roast Wild Boar Sausages with Boston Baked Beans. When the Cambodian starter arrives I can't believe it; to call it a noodle soup is like saying that Picasso could paint a bit. Steve later tells me that Paul Simenon's mother gave him the recipe - Steve shared a Ladbroke Grove squat with The Clash's bass player in the mid 70s. By the time my bangers come my retinas have just about adjusted to the dimly lit surroundings - candle power is still the light of choice in this classy postcode; the wax he collects from them fuel the log burner and make rather fetching table decorations. Strong liquor is never more than 30 seconds from your glass and, before we leave, Steve lets us sit in on his Whisky Focus Group - a meeting of like minded coves who savour Single Malts from the Highlands and Islands; several of which taste like hospital corridors. Cost? He turned us out into the snow sometime after midnight before we had chance to square up. If he likes you, then you'll know to leave your wallet at home.

Sausages: 10
Lighting: 4
Single Malts: 9

Rating: 7.67

Reservations: Steve doesn't give out his 'phone number and very rarely checks his email - try and catch him in The Sun Inn. Tell him I sent you.

On the way out, as as he was filling my pockets with crabsticks, Steve told me he'd helped Joe Strummer write Train In Vain; he'd had a few by this point.

Lost in the supermarket

Yesterday morning I bit the bullet and made the short expedition to my local soul sapping Sainsbury's (other supermarkets are available). Within minutes of arrival I'd already taken a wrong turning and soon found myself in uncharted waters - namely the soft drink aisle.
All the usual suspects were there: Coke & Pepsi (in fat ba**ard and diet formats), own brand Cola (just like Coke or Pepsi but with added sh*te), Dr. Pepper (?), Lucozade (now re-branded as an 'energy drink' - its hospital bedside ubiquity long gone) and, of course, good old dandelion and burdock (just what is a burdock exactly?) And then I saw it: 'Good God', I must have mumbled under my breath, 'do they still make this stuff?' I refer to Shandy Bass - a beverage I'd not seen since the scorching Summer of 1975 (or was it '76?). They said at school that even if you drank twenty cans in one sitting you'd never get drunk; not that that stopped us from trying. Maybe somebody should have explained that to the boys in blue at Leicestershire Police.

And while I'm on the subject, can you remember Shandy Bass' main rival? I'll give you a clue: Kurt Cobain (allegedly) demanded three cans as a rider when Nirvana came over to Blighty and performed on The Word; if I was a conspiracy theorist I'd think it was a hell of a coincidence that Top Deck was withdrawn shortly thereafter.

The Martin Kitcher Band: Shandy Bass (Westcliff on Sea)