Dead at Fifty of an apparent heart attack… and better known as Joe Strummer, singer, songwriter and guitarist for the Clash, ‘the only band that matters.’ And I agree, at least as far as punk went. There was a cliché that punk was less a musical genre than a state of mind. I never cared much for the Sex Pistols, had only a passing interest in the Ramones (despite growing up with several of them), but, ahhh, the Clash, that was when punk became music, with melodiousness and proto-worldbeat sensibility. Then there was the righteous politics. No, more than anything else was the fact that they were utterly incendiary.

“Do you know those shots from above a rocket gantry, especially those Sixties, early-color shots of Cape Kennedy or Cape Canaveral? There’s that moment after they count down, ‘Three, two, one . . .’ when clouds of smoke billow from the rocket and then it begins to thrust and burn a whole in the atmosphere — that would be the feeling of a Clash show. And it would seem about that length of time too,” said Strummer about the Clash experience.

It looked as if the Clash were going to regroup for their March induction into the R’n’R Hall of Fame. I’ll always be grateful, as well, that Strummer had the audacity to fill in for Shane McGowan with the Pogues. [The Mescaleros, his current project, aren’t half bad either.] Go listen to Combat Rock, especially if you haven’t in awhile… and play it loud.