exploremusic

I don’t get bent out of shape over the death of a celebrity.  I may be a fan, but I’m just not that emotionally invested in any famous people to get really upset when someone dies.  But there have been two exceptions.

When Joey Ramone died, it hurt.  I’d met Joey on a number of occasions and he had always treated me well.  A couple of years before he died, I spent hours on the phone with him discussing a book project that never worked out.  I still have his phone number in my contacts list; I’m never going to erase it.

Joe Strummer’s death also hurt.  I’d only met him a couple of times but I’d grown up a Clash fan.  I didn’t always agree with the stances Joe took on issues, but I always respected his position.  I even eventually forgave him for Cut the Crap, the Clash album that should never have been made.

Joe may have been one of the most famous rock’n'rollers ever, but you’d never know it by the way he conducted himself in public.  Despite his posh upbrining (he was, after all, the son of a diplomat and went to private school), he rejected all that in favour of a working class approach to life and his interaction with regular people.

One Saturday about a year before he died, he came into the radio station ahead of a gig by his band, the Mescaleros.  A huge crowd had showed up to watch the interview.  Joe was late, either hung over or laid low by a particularly nasty cold (or both).  When he finally showed up, his guitar case contained nothing more than a beat up guitar.  He sat down in the crowded studio and tried to warm up his voice ahead of his on-air performance.  But it was too hot, too humid and too noisy.

Joe got up and walked out of the studio and onto the sidewalk.  It was a cold January day, but at least the air outside was fresh.  I followed and watched him as he stood next to a fire hydrant with his guitar, first tuning up and then unabashedly singing something Clash-like at the top of his lungs as shoppers and families walked by.  Most thought he was just another busker–except for this one guy. 

He gave Joe a sideways glance as he walked by.  About twenty feet further down the sidewalk, he turned and looked back.  I heard him mutter “Who is that guy trying to be?  Joe Strummer?”  And then he turned and walked away.

Dude, if you only knew.