Touring Bands - The Clash

THE CLASH

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The Clash in Belfast – Sounds 29th October 1977 © Caroline Coon

The Gig (?) At first The Clash were reluctant to have their picture taken anywhere near the soldiers. “They'll think we're here to entertain the troops," said Strummer. They all felt they didn't know enough about the political situation. They learned fast.

Belfast is one nervously obsessive security check. You can't cross a road, drive down the street, walk into a shop or hotel without passing through an elaborate system of flashing lights, concrete and steel barricades, high barbed-wire fences or road blocks. At each of these frequent checkpoints, the hands of uniformed men and women feel over your body and pry into your personal possessions. Jesus (in whose name the fighting continues) Christ! The eroding invasion of privacy liquifies your guts in seconds. You're just about to scream and question the necessity of the process when the words "bomb scare" pass from mouth to mouth. Army trucks roll by, soldiers run and crouch with their rifles loaded. Your palms begin sweating. There's no dynamite hidden in your handbag. But suspicion and fear prevail. On what side are the people next to you? Do you look Catholic or Protestant? And anyway, extremists on either side are frequently apologising for killing the wrong person. Danger stranger? You'd better believe it. "Where are you playing tonight?” a man asks The Clash at the airport. The Ulster Hall. "Well, that's a nice part of town. You won't get kneecapped there." Gulp. Ha ha. An Irish joke already.

"You see," the local BBC reporter explains later in the bar of the Europa Hotel, “when there have been people dying at your feet for eight years, you've got to laugh." For all the tension in the air, coming to Belfast is a positive gesture of optimism. Within minutes of arriving in town, The Clash are surrounded by fans. Heavy punks. Safety pins through their cheeks. Dog collars. Bondage straps. The lot. The Clash are examined as if they are visitors bringing a magic interlude from another planet. The atmosphere is feverishly excited. "We've come to play for all the kids here," says Paul Simonon, "whoever or whatever they are." George, 19, a Protestant laboratory worker tells him: "It's so great you're here. We've been waiting for this for weeks. Nobody ever comes here. We're going to love it." Will there be Protestants and Catholics at the gig? "Oh yes. We all mix and we get on. Everybody's bored with the fighting. Only a minority are fighting. It's music we want to hear, not religion." The Clash are in the right place. Definitely.

It's the first night of their second UK tour and they are psyched-up to give an all-time great performance. Never have they been so certain before a gig of the extent to which they are wanted. Joe has a brand new Telecaster. Paul is wearing Patti Smith's high school T-shirt. They are all on full alert and ready. Then the news breaks. The gig is OFF. It can't be. Panic. Two hours before the show is due to start! There must be somewhere else to play. Confusion. The promoters can't get insurance. Medical And Professional Insurance Limited refused to insure punk music at the last minute. Already, hundreds of fans are outside the Ulster Hall just a stone's throw from the hotel. The Europa is besieged. "We want The Clash. We want The Clash," they roar from behind the wire bomb guards. Police materialise out of the darkness. Paul and Nicky Headon realise the situation is explosive. They both speed through the security check and into the mob. "Please keep calm," they implore. "We're trying to find an alternative venue. Pass the word to keep calm. If there's trouble tonight we'll never be able to play here." Word filters through that fans outside the Ulster Hall refused to disperse. Bottles were thrown. Kids lay in front of police Land Rovers. Two have been rushed to hospital. Again Paul and Nicky, joined by Joe, decide to face the angry fans themselves. Outside the Ulster Hall they are mobbed. "Come on Joe, play!" "Don't sell out, Paul." "We wanna play," The Clash yell back. And their presence and pleas to "Keep cool" reassures the fans and the angry scene turns into a mammoth, good-humoured autograph session and talk-in.

"Whether you're a Protestant or a Catholic here, you get it if you're a punk," say Maggie. On her way across town, she and her friend were stopped by soldiers. "Go home," they were told. They climbed over the security barricades to get to the gig. Back at base, manager Bernard Rhodes is trying to salvage the situation. The social secretary of Queens University offers a hall. The gig is on again. The word spreads. Punks converge on the university. The band arrive to a resounding cheer and push through the crowd. But the place is like a morgue. Kids rush up to the band. They are crying. “The bastards have called the gig off again," they say. In a back room, two university officials are deliberating, negatively. Deputations from the band, the promoters, the press and the fans beg them to change their minds. The phrase "acceptable levels of violence" hangs in the air. Two huge, uniformed police inspectors enter. The crowd outside are calm, they say. They can easily, sir, be dispersed. What do you think will happen if the university allows the gig to go ahead, I ask them. "Every window in the place will be smashed." The band are stunned. Accusations of a publicity stunt make them feel sick. Mick Jones is refusing to leave the dressing room until he is allowed to play. Slowly, the fact that there's nothing anybody can do to save the gig sinks in. Go home everybody. The Clash are silent, inwardly seething, outwardly setting an example of responsible cool. Paul is the last to leave the dressing room. He rips a leaflet from the student notice board.

It reads: “THE WORLD IS A BASTARD PLACE".

The Clash in Belfast - Private World Fanzine - December 1977

This was more important than any gig played in Belfast. The last time The Clash attempted to play they were thwarted by authority and were attacked by the cops. The group suffered from the trip because of those Army photos. They said they'd be back, I didn't believe them, but they kept their word.

I prefer to forget about the controversy over the cancellation of one of the shows. So let's start about 8:00. The queues getting bigger and bigger, the fuzz are getting worried, I'm getting drunk and carried away (literally) and The Clash are tuning up. Because of a disagreement (I got lifted), I missed The Lou's, but I was back just in time to hear the opening Clash number - Complete Control. It sounded great. Proving that it was the single of '77, no matter what anyone says. I don't know what the sound should've been like (Strummer says it should have been better), but it didn't matter to me or any of the other 600 kids or so in the hall. U.S.A., Janie Jones, Protex, 1977, all those fucking classics from that fucking classic album and Capital Radio. The music was the best I had heard and especially the new numbers - Clash City Rockers and White Man, both have a heavy reggae influence that works. White Man must surely be their best song yet. Garageland came on and it was over. The encores - What's My Name and White Riot - sent us wild and the stage was invaded.

The next day between autographs and mouthfuls of egg and chips, Strummer and Jones held court in the Europa. They didn't say much of interest. They were probably afraid to say anything in case they said it to the wrong person. Even I feel that way sometimes and I fucking live here.
Mick's asking Matlock and The Rick Kids to come over here so watch out for that. You know what you've read about The Clash and from what I've seen it's all true.

FUCK THE PISTOLS...........THE CLASH ARE THE ONLY ONES WHO CARE.

The Clash at the McMordie Hall, Belfast 19th Dec 1977 - review from NME – January 1978 Edition by Colin McClelland

"Hiya! Shouted Joe Strummer, punching savagely a big Christmas balloon decoration hanging from the ceiling above his head. A sweating hall full of Ulster's punk population leapt in the air with a great roar. The Clash had come back to Belfast.

The roar continued more or less unabated throughout the hour-long set, which also saw a lot of frenzied gobbing. At one point Mick Jones had to stop playing to unclog his strings.

There were two Saturday shows originally scheduled for Queen's University Student's Union - which had tried to stage the band's aborted Ulster Hall gig in October, but which was also stymied on that occasion by insurance problems (see Thrills 29.10.77). This time around, only one Clash performance actually got off the ground, the first one falling down over a travel hold-up after The Clash apparently missed their plane.

About 650 punks bought tickets for Saturdays show. Each ticket was accompanied by a personal note from student organiser Emanon McCann, appealing for cool on the part of the audience, "so that other punk concerts might be possible in the New Year."

The entrance hall to the union looked almost like a pet shop as the show got underway. Tables groaned under assorted belts, buckles, leads, studded collars and safety pins, all taken off fans as they came in and each carefully labelled with the owner's name.

The Clash lashed into their programme at sub-sonic speed, throwing almost unnoticed Northern Ireland asides into familiar songs (`Police And Thieves" became "Police And Priests"), and pausing only to wipe down between numbers.

The set finished on "Garageland", which seemed to catch the crowd by surprise. It took them a full 30 seconds to realise that the show was indeed over, and the mighty roar then started up again with a vengeance.

The band came back onstage almost immediately with "London's Burning", only it was now called "Belfast's Burning". The audience went ape. By the final encore `number, "White Riot", the bouncers were no longer able to hold the front-line control, and several people broke through onto the stage to share vocals with Strummer. He passed the mike to one to finish the song for him.

The band left the stage as chaos became general.

When they got outside the fans were in for a shock. In the normally middle-class Elmwood Avenue four or five armoured Land Rovers were pulled up, ringed with police carrying rifles.

The crowd, which had shown no hint of aggro throughout the evening, stood about in groups, looking bemused. The police, several with rifles held on the hip, moved amongst them, presumably looking for the expected violence. None came.

Suddenly a ligger at the back of the crowd, jumping piggyback on his mate's shoulders, became the target for action, and a handful of cops rushed in to collar him He was hustled off into one of the waiting Land Rovers.

As the punks moved off down University Road the Land Rovers kerb-crawIed beside them, occasionally stopping for armed constables to lump out and stand guard at street corners. If it was provocation, as some of the fans muttered, it didn't work. Most of the crowd seemed to be in a hurry to get to a party somewhere.

The success of the Clash concert means that Queens will now be able to go ahead with their projected New Year programme.

Belfast’s Burning!

The Clash - McMordie Hall, Belfast 17th December 1977.

Review from No Fun Fanzine Issue 2

Armed police surrounded the queue of ‘sub-human punk rockers’ outside the Student Union and lifted anyone they caught singing. Heavy manners. By the time I got in, The Lous were half way through their set, so I can’t find much to say about them.

Anyway, we were there to hear The Clash, who were finally playing Belfast. The place went wild as they launched into ‘Complete Control’, and from then on the band got hotter and hotter. They played all the best songs from the album (with a really good version of Police & Thieves). As well as ‘1977’, ‘City of The Dead’, and ‘White Man In Hammersmith Palais’. Just by watching the band I realised that here was real rock music for the ordinary kids who don’t have PhDs. Music that doesn’t feature moogs or diminished 11th’s, but does have real excitement. It was great to see punks and long haired beardies pogoing together to The Clash. There was a very positive atmosphere that’s hard to describe, but somehow everything seemed right. Anyway, when The Clash played ‘Belfast’s Burning’ the whole place went crazy. By any standards, this gig was incredible.

Afterwards, the band seemed really pleased by the audience, except of course, the morons who insist on gobbing ( It’s really disgusting and stupid - Mick). They all assured me hat they’d be back again and again. The new album, they say, will be out in February, with possibly a single before that.

The Clash - Belfast - Gavin Martin NME 21st October 1978.

The last time The Clash tried to plat The Ulster Hall a combination of big business insurance moguls and local bureaucratic bullshit caused the gig to be cancelled at the 11th hour. And the punters’ vigorous protest resulted in brutal law enforcement which left the crowd and the band sad, confused and helpless.

The bitter taste of that night was mostly eradicated by a hastily arranged Christmas gig at the city’s University where despite turning in a below par performance, The Clash were the most potent rock ‘n’ roll fireball ever to blaze across a Belfast stage.But tonight we get TOTAL victory. After the tired sicko-subterranean toilette punque fetishes of the admittedly well-received Outcasts, the band launch into a set that harnesses their essential roots - the fireball still burns - with an uplifting musical call to arms.The potential of ‘Rockers’, ‘Control’ et al is realised with a greater emphasis on melody, courtesy of Jonesy’s fluid lead guitar breaks, some coolly paced drum figures from Headon and the development of the bands’ corporate ability to seduce your emotional and physical core into a sensurround pot pourri.

Visually it’s Jones who’s the most immediately striking as the rock ‘n’ roll outlaw in cowboy leathers and newly shorn locks that shake off the ‘Poodle’ tag. The rest of the band come over with forceful cohesion while exuding warmth and good feeling that no other band attains.‘Tommy Gun’ is the obvious choice for the new single with its sharp shooting, rifle repeating rhythms. Jones and Simonon stand astride the drum platform while Nicky batters out the military riff from the rear and upfront Strummer rages. As it’s hard to discern the titles, the new songs, are just sounds to these ears. But those sounds sure are hot. Perhaps the most memorable was a sublime ‘I Fought The Law’ with the call and response vocals of Jones and Strummer working to awesome effect.

The chestnuts from the early days have the dam busting attack of a controlled musical Armageddon. You can listen to them play ‘Garage land’ without cringing because their performance still encompasses the brazen spirit of a garage band. ‘Capitol Radio’s’ culminating instrumental cavalcade is matched by the blue in the face fury and disgust of the now guitarless Strummer - it’s little short of amazing.The set is jam packed with golden moments bristling with imaginative ideas, best exemplified by the superbly sly and skilful merging of ‘Police And Thieves’ into ‘Blitzkrieg Bop’ where they merge the guitar lick and pacing of the former with the rhythm of the latter to produce some idea of where the Bowery Boys might be if they discovered maturity. Further high points were the ineffable ‘White Man’ a spontaneous ‘Complete Control’ and the dynamic catapulting of ‘White Riot’ ; an encore fit to send you home reeling with the ecstatic realisation that you’ve just seen the best band in the world.

Below is an interview from October 1978, recorded for Mater Hospital Radio, Belfast, directly after the above show.

The Clash live at the Ulster Hall 12th March 1984.

Review from Issue 4 Youth Anthem Fanzine

Although I’d been hanging around the Ulster Hall from about 1:30 I will advance to 7:30 and the doors opened and we were allowed in. I was a bit worried as the most striking thing was a severe shortage of people. The crowd either sat around the sides or stood at the front leaving a large vacuum in the centre.

The space was filled slightly when The Defects hit the stage. Although I was surprised at the HM-ish sound of some of their songs, there was no denying that the band were more than competent musicians. Who said punks couldn’t play? This was Buck’s final gig and he was putting everything into it and didn’t seem to mind the shower of gob hitting the stage. Their set consisted of ‘Brutality’, ‘Survival’, the disappointing ‘Suspicious Minds’ and a couple of tracks from their Defective Breakdown album. They only seemed to be warming up when they left the stage. Anyway, they were well received and their future looks interesting. It’s a pity they weren’t announced as support as I’m sure many more people would have made the effort to come earlier.

Well, by this time the crowds were flocking in and many expressed annoyance at having missed The Defects. After about half an hour the lights were dimmed and The Clash were announced and they came on and went straight in London Calling’ sending the crowd into hysterics. Above the band were seven TV screens relaying images of various things from Belfast to The Great Rock ‘N’ Roll Swindle but to be truthful I didn’t pay too much attention as I was either looking at the band or else somebody was blocking my view. The three new members try hard as they are aware that the world has still to be convinced that The Clash can still function without Mick Jones. Opinions differed a great deal so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Billy Bragg told me that he closed his eyes and it was like back in 77. This was true to some degree and certainly a great many of the old songs were played it I was also watching a slick and professional group of musicians who could compete live with anyone. Can Joe still feel the anger of the teenager expressed in anthems like ‘Career Opportunities’ and ‘Garageland’? Those were more than just songs, they were heartfelt screams of passion and anger that changed the way people thought and lived. I would hate it if they only played those songs (like Lyndon doing ‘Anarchy’) just because the crowd wanted them to. On the other hand it was great to hear them again.

The stage seemed rather cluttered at times with five people on it but apart from that it was a fine show. Five new songs were played and they all sounded of very high quality. The only titles I caught were (I think) ‘Across The Water’ and ‘Dictator’ (dedicated to Mick). The set consisted of ‘Know Your Rights’ and ‘Rock The Casbah’ from Combat Rock, but only ‘Police On My Back’ from Sandinista. ‘London Calling was quite heavily plundered - ‘Spanish Bombs’, ‘Clampdown’, ‘Guns of Brixton’, ‘Brand New Cadillac’ and the title track. The first three tracks from Enough Rope and ‘Janie Jones’, ‘USA’, ‘Police and Thieves’, ‘Garageland’, ‘Career Opportunities’ from the first album and were were also treated to ‘Clash City Rockers’, ‘Complete Control’, ‘White Man’, ‘I Fought The Law’ and ‘Bankrobber’. Not a bad set you must admit. They could have played all night. Sadly they didn’t play ‘White Riot’, ‘London’s Burning’, ‘Stay Free’, ‘Armageddon Time’, ‘Straight To Hell’, ‘Magnificent Seven’, ‘Capitol Radio’, or ‘All The Young Punks’. It’s only when the songs are laid out like that that you realise just how many out and out classics the band have recorded over the years.

Instead of countless encores they seemed to have a break after half the set before returning to play the rest. A word or two must be said for the mindless prat’s who persisted in gobbing throughout the show and annoyed Joe so much he threatened to leave the stage. He had a microphone in one hand and a towel /shield in the other so his movements were hindered quite a bit. That old habit should have died out long ago along with swastikas and evil sneers. How children will behave when it’s past their bedtime! On the whole it was an incredible performance and all I can say is I hope it’s not another six years to the next one!

Okay, Punk Rockering up and dow in France or England was one thing, but getting to Ulster was another.Although having the first concert cancelled was a big disappointment for everyone, at least it allowed for some close band/audience contact. If Punk was hard, Ulster was harder. If Punk was chaos, Ulster was ‘was zone’. Punk was the perfect soundtrack to the ravaged cities.

Outside the Ulster Hall, in the melee, punks were lying down in the street in front of the Land Rover patrols and armoured cars. After the crowd was dispersed we went on a spree with the local crew and got a rapid education in the ways of the province. The punks informed us they were the only integrated people’s in the whole country. Let the children teach the man!

Although there was a good twelve months before the mighty ‘Fingers’ and The Undertones began to rise, you could tell something was coming from just looking at the fans. They were bursting with energy and enthusiasm, not at all cowed by the special difficulties of the place and beyond all reach of bigoted tradition. Seasons come and go and the music is constantly changing, but when punk rock ruled over Ulster nobody ever had more excitement and fun. Between the bombings and shootings, the religious hatred and the settling of old scores, punk gave everybody a chance to LIVE for one glorious burning moment. Let it provide inspiration.

Top image of The Clash - Photograph (c) Adrian Boot Belfast October 1977