The first time I watched ‘The Future Is Unwritten‘ was in a jam-packed cinema in November last year. The Joe Strummer documentary/biopic had just been released and watching it with a large enthusiastic audience added a quasi-religious feel to the event. They sang along to every song and marvelled as a series of respected friends, contemporaries and fans highlighted The Clash‘s talent and Joe Strummer‘s influence.
Though I was too young when The Clash were in their heyday I did manage to catch a set by The Mescaleros back in 97. It was raining like there was no tomorrow and we were huddled around my shitty car’s dashboard trying to get some heat into our bones at what could only be described as a festival gone wrong. We suddenly heard a loud roar as the opening chords for ‘Rudie Can’t Fail‘ played over the huge muddy field. I turned to my shivering comrade friend and said: “you realise we are missing out on an absolute legend here” and without another word we simultaneously jumped out of the car and splashed towards the stage.
Last week ‘The Future Is Unwritten‘ was shown for the first time on British terrestrial TV. Watching it again reminded me of that initial movie-going experience and how The Clash‘s music lives on through the years. Though the documentary occasionally resorts to what is unabashedly idolisation for Strummer this is suitably augmented with footage and tales where Joe Strummer the man doesn’t quite match up to Joe Strummer the myth. Ultimately Strummer comes across as a passionate, and sometimes difficult, man whose heart is true to his beliefs.
There is a scene in the movie where Joe Strummer is handing out flyers to try and entice passers-bye to come see The Mescaleros live performance somewhere in the USA . This man had played stadiums not so long ago, he is a living legend for fuck sakes! Yet he was promoting his show like a budding artist at the first ropes. There was no ego, there was no entourage. It was just Joe Strummer trying to build a crowd to see him doing what he did best, standing on stage and giving 110%
That night in 1997 we drove back in our boxer shorts because our clothes were completely soaked but we had the sweet sound of ‘London Calling‘ ringing in our ears. Epic.
RIP Joe!
