Sounds - UK Music weekly magazine - March 17 1979

STURDY with high forehead, floor manager John Pederson glides across the floor like an advert for frictionless castors, climbs into a position where he can see everyone in the studio and in the manner of a slightly tetchy bachelor uncle, announces do gathered horde of Geordie punks tremulously eager for `The Clash “Hello, the emergency exits are at the back and the side and if there’s a fire and you can’t find them, just follow me . . . - Right, that’s all from me. I’ll let the producer tell you some more about the show. “

The preparations over, the dry-ice machine starts dribbling just enough to give an impression that it’s all happening in a smoky club rather than under the glare of a vast battery of Finsburys and the Clash stroll onstage for a two-song warm up before taping a couple of numbers for the new Tyne Tees financed Den Hegarty-fronted show, Allright Now.

Obviously indebted to the failed attempt that was Revolver, this half-hour show also tries to recreate the atmosphere of a live gig by filming in front of a small audience and, this time round she merry-go-round, using a small group of hand-picked kids to enter into a discussion with the band. Presumably producer Malcolm Gerrie drew on his experience as a drama teacher in Sunderland he did a local widely acclaimed version of Tommy) in picking the kids out. Whatever, two of the girls seemed determined to ensure that the camera caught what they thought was their best profile - nylon clad legs stretching to infinity.

Other shows in the eight week series feature Dire Straits, Chris Rea, Blondie (a video montage), Ian Dury (talking), The Police, Zapper, the Who and, for local interest, Eric Burdon, Penetration, Lindisfarne and Punishment of Luxury. Tyne Tees are screening it at the peak time of seven o’clock Friday evening (currently the Muppets are in that slot) and the possibilities of other stations taking it are currently being discussed via the IBA - their decisions are expected later this week. This week’s filming, featuring as it does the Clash and the Tom Robinson Band, obviously promises to produce the most `controversial’ show.

A slight problem does indeed emerge in the TRB set. After the first number Tom announces “We were gonna play a song about Liddle Towers (`Blue Murder’) but the programmc director said we couldn’t because it’s a kids’ show. . . infiltrating their minds and all that rubbish. But here it is anyway” The TV professionals defuse the situation smoothly by `filming it for possible future use’.

Conscientious boycotters Of TOTP the Clash have agreed to do it precisely because they can play live. Which means a soundcheck at two and then waiting around till eight to do their short show. Paul Simonton passes the time in the dressing room, ripping up paper cups, gouging holes in the wall with his flick- knife and flying plastic aeroplanes around the room. The rest of the band wander to and from the canteen, drink cups of tea and sign autographs - one of the kids’ Clash Songbooks was presented to him as the school’s poetry prize. Mike Jones mentions that they’re going into the studio The following day to work on the music for the film Jack Hazan has made based around one of their roadies and his (fictional) lift. I ask him if they’d actually written any of the music yet. A long pause. “Mmmm . . . no. “

Topper tells me how difficult it was to get baked beans in the States and idly scans some American press stories on them I’d brought with me. The best of the hunch is Christgau’s in the Village Voice In between the usual par-for-the-band eulogies, he mentions that he was about to make love to his wife when he heard that China had invaded Vietnam. Desperate for relief for the obviously impending holocaust, he put on `Give `Em Enough Rope’, the side beginning with `Guns On the Roof’. He felt better.

Flicking through the script I noticed enough puns on the word Clash to keep Tony Blackburn amused for a week and some delights like: `General discussion. . . Does Sid Vicious’ death symbolise the death of punk? (e. g. flower power Charles Manson). ‘

When I pointed out this snippet to Den Hegarty, he smiled. “That’s what you get from someone who finishes a degree course. I dropped out of mine. “

Showtime and the band plunge into an efficient if uninspired `English Civil War’ while the split screen displays Short self- penned biogs (Mick’s biggest influence - third rate rock bands 67-73, Topper’s hobby - milking goats) and then moves over to the discussion with Den and the kids.

Den welcomes them by announcing “Well this is punk and there’s not a green hair in sight apart from the ones up your noses. “ The rest of the talk was inaudible but as Den walked 4way I did hear him mumble “Mmmm, novel. “

To finish the show, Mick sang a charged `Hate and War’ and then Strummer led them all into their embryonic arrangement of Desmond Dekker’s `Israelites’ with Den on bass vocals and crawling around the floor biting Mick’s leg. As a genuine gesture of friendship toward the crowd the band did a couple more songs and the kids got the chance to invade the stage leaving Jones stranded high on the drum riser like a nattily dressed Noah.

The band had gone, the floor manager returned. “The next thing I want to see is you, the stars (i. e. the audience). I what you to give me a big cheer and a bit of applause to camera one. “ They faced the camera. They cheered. They applauded. They were asked to leave quietly. They did.

Pete Silverton