Music must have something to say

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In his column, which he describes as a ‘stramash in the goalmouth of Rock ‘n’ Roll,’ the celebrated songwriter, producer and manager, JOHN McLAUGHLIN, shares with us his insights into the music and entertainment world.

THIS month’s feature came about almost by accident. I was watching one of my all-time favourite bands on YouTube—punk rock icons The Clash—when I noticed something I’d seen many times before but suddenly looked at in a completely different light. There was Joe Strummer battering barre E on his well battle worn Fender Telecaster guitar and spitting out the words to Tommy Gun with all his anger and might… wearing an H-Block T-shirt in the video for The Clash’s 1978 single.

It got me thinking about just how controversial —and, I have to say, how brave—that must have been at the time. Here was a very English, very London-based punk rock band, at the height of their fame, openly displaying support for the campaign for political status for prisoners held in the H-Blocks of Long Kesh, at a time when the conflict in the North of Ireland was becoming increasingly violent and politically charged.

I knew that—like many punk bands at the time—The Clash had a great understanding of world politics. This is where I learned as a young punk growing up in the Milton in the north of Glasgow about the Spanish Civil War, the Sandinistas, Cuba and the Occupation of Palestine. Sadly, since then it’s gotten even worse for the Palestinian people. Joe’s heart would be breaking if he was still here. But I digress, through The Clash’s records and interviews they made their feelings obvious that they sided with the Irish people forced to live under British rule with tanks and an occupying army on their streets.

The more I started digging into The Clash’s relationship with Ireland and the conflict there, the more fascinating it became. Joe Strummer had a genuine interest in what was happening in the North of Ireland and his visit to Belfast in 1978 brought him face-to-face with a reality that was a world away from the London punk scene. The band even made their way to Long Kesh and posed for photographs there.

Irish eyes on conflict

Strummer wasn’t the only punk rocker looking towards Ireland. It got me thinking about how other bands of that generation responded to one of the most turbulent and tragic periods in modern Irish history.

There was Stiff Little Fingers—born in Belfast itself—whose music came directly from the streets and the experience of growing up in the middle of the conflict. Their debut single, Suspect Device, and the album Inflammable Material captured the anger, fear and frustration of young people living through the conflict.

Then there were The Undertones, a band from Derry, who had perhaps one of the most fascinating relationships with the conflict. Unlike Stiff Little Fingers, they weren’t constantly writing directly about politics or the conflict. Instead, they sang about being young—girls, boredom, teenage frustrations, excitement, love and lust. And perhaps that was the point. The Undertones were living through the conflict in Derry. They knew exactly what was happening around them, but their music concentrated on the ordinary lives of young people trying to be young in extraordinary circumstances. Songs like Teenage Kicks became an escape from the world outside.

There is something incredibly powerful about that. With the streets around them pretty mental and rife with division, five young lads from Derry were singing about being young, skint and spotty all wrapped up in three-minute punk rock classics.

Then there was U2. By the early 1980s, they were beginning to emerge from Dublin’s post-punk scene and were becoming increasingly willing to confront the political and religious divisions surrounding them. Their 1983 song Sunday Bloody Sunday remains one of the most famous musical responses to the conflict. The song’s title immediately evokes the events of Bloody Sunday in Derry in 1972, when British soldiers shot and killed 14 civil rights protesters. But Bono was careful to make the song a condemnation of the cycle of violence rather than a straightforward political anthem. The famous live performances, with Bono waving a white flag and pleading for peace, helped turn Sunday Bloody Sunday into an international statement against violence and sectarian hatred.

There were also bands such as The Boomtown Rats, with Bob Geldof, another Irish punk who wasn’t afraid to tackle political and social subjects—even if his perspective was sometimes very different from that of ours of those around him. He was never shy of saying his piece and did not care a jot who liked it or not. This, I believe, helped him go on to front Live Aid so well.

Keep paying attention

But at the centre of this story for me is The Clash, because what fascinates me about them isn’t simply that they acknowledged Ireland, it’s the way they did it. Joe Strummer was outspoken and often confrontational in his political views. Mick Jones, meanwhile, had a strong understanding of the political struggle, but maintained an anti-violence stance. They didn’t necessarily see everything through exactly the same lens, but Ireland had clearly made an impression on them. They were singing about supporting the H-Block prisoners’ political stance two years before the hunger strikes.

And perhaps that’s what punk rock did at its best, make people sit up and pay attention to things that were more important than just youth rebellion, which I loved because it was a big part of my life growing up. We all get older and move on in life, but unfortunately there are still millions of people around the world who can’t just move on as they live decade after decade under oppression and, heartbreakingly, even today, genocide. I pray for the people of Palestine and all those suffering around the world.