Catching the clash by JBlocher

To make a very long story short, we got tickets to see the clash in New York and then we get to New York. It was a great trip except for seeing clash posters all over town that we couldn't get down. We visited a number of rock shops and so very little that wasn't available here in Columbus.

At 7 PM, an hour before the doors were to open, we got in line outside Bonds International Casino(Formerly bonds clothing) on Times Square. The only sign of the overbooking white riots of the week before was a battered police barricade on the sidewalk. There was also a single police officer working very hard at ignoring to morons who sat on the curb sharing a bong. They had come all the way from Milwaukee, so we kept pretty much to ourselves after that.

Surprise! The doors opened on time and we piled past several bouncer-types("Any bottles or cans, buddy") and up a carpeted spiral stairway at surrounded by barbed wire and moose heads. Great decor. Upstairs we found a large lobby with bar ($2 for a beer) and some Clash concessions stands. We settled for a concert poster and a few buttons, regrettably passing up tiny red LEDs that lasted for over 600 hours, cost five dollars, and could be clicked to your ear or nose or whatever. Through a large bank of double doors located the dancefloor with strobe lights, spinning all-in-the-dark things, half-inflated silver spacemen hanging through trapdoors in the ceiling. The dancefloor itself was huge, with recess balconies at two sides to handle the large number of techies apparently required to keep all the lights flashing and the mikes feeding back. The facilities that Bonds where dance or drop. There was absolutely no seating anywhere! We crashed for a few minutes on the carpeted steps leading up to yet another bark, that was quickly shooed away. Eventually, we settled on the beer-sticky, crude covered floor in front of the stage. Yeach.

Opening at 10 o'clock was a quartet called the Nitecaps, trading vocals between the rhythm guitarist(a bit week) and the lead (great!), They covered some R&B and rock standards in clean, tight version. The highlight was a reggae "Ain't no sunshine" that really worked; being made it all their own. Halfway through they were joined by a three-piece horn section that complimented then perfectly. "Hey!," said the lead, "thanks a lot. We thought we were going to get our asses kicked off the stage by you guys!".
Half an hour later came the backless, three men and a roadie who had trouble staying off the stage. The lead was tall, gangly and scared hostility at the audience. New wave, I guess, or maybe myopia. The match your bassman specialised in interesting expressions. Band, performances, material all forgettable.

By this time the floor was beginning to get crowded as the fashionably late arrived and started pressing forward. Between-set dance music, provided by a DJ was announced herself as "Pearl Harbour" (The one and only?) pounded through the air at only slightly less than lethal levels and talking was impossible. The minutes past. One or two people dance to it, but most of us should fall about for a better viewpoint and glanced nervously at our watches. Finally, midnight arrived! Sorted five after midnight. And 10 after midnight. And so on. There was little activity on the stage. The audience began to get annoyed, whistling and clapping between each song and few people. Time crawled by.

And then at 12:30 twelve-thirty, the incessant thumping of bonds discorama sound system gave way to the haunting strains of Ennio Morricone's music from "a few dollars more". By the time the last strands of spaghetti had faded, the Clash were on stage and the audience what's on their(Aching) feet, pressing toward them. There you work you buy their records, you read about them, you plastered the wall with posters, you watch them on TV and film, always nice and safe and remote. Actually, being there was a little scary, almost like a personal commitment. I had a brief paranoid fantasy Joe Strom announced that sure the Afghan rebels will be recruiting in the lobby, as he just knew we all wanted to join up.

Strummer wore the usual paramilitary garb and his "ignore alien orders" guitar. Mick Jones was in a rumpled suit, snarly-haired and glassy-eyed. Paul Simmon was shirtless, white base hanging law against his black leather trousers. Top heating was there, too hidden behind his drum set. Know Mickey Gallagher or--thankfully--Micky Dread.

With a shout of "good evening!" they launched into "London calling" and followed it with "Safe European home", both strong solid versions and the audience sang along. This set the tone for the show. Except for a stupid stoned-out woman in front of me, there was surprisingly little dancing."The leader" was the first "Sandinista" song they did; it started a little week but picked up quickly. Longer version of "train in vain" got a big cheer of recognition. They then paused for a breath and Strummer asked, "now what do you want to hear?". Out of 1800 screened answers, somebody must have yelled "White.. (missing page 2)

_Catching the clash by JBlocher

To make a very long story short, we got tickets to see the clash in New York and then we get to New York. It was a great trip except for seeing clash posters all over town that we couldn't get down. We visited a number of rock shops and so very little that wasn't available here in Columbus.

At 7 PM, an hour before the doors were to open, we got in line outside Bonds International Casino(Formerly bonds clothing) on Times Square. The only sign of the overbooking white riots of the week before was a battered police barricade on the sidewalk. There was also a single police officer working very hard at ignoring to morons who sat on the curb sharing a bong. They had come all the way from Milwaukee, so we kept pretty much to ourselves after that.

Surprise! The doors opened on time and we piled past several bouncer-types("Any bottles or cans, buddy") and up a carpeted spiral stairway at surrounded by barbed wire and moose heads. Great decor. Upstairs we found a large lobby with bar ($2 for a beer) and some Clash concessions stands. We settled for a concert poster and a few buttons, regrettably passing up tiny red LEDs that lasted for over 600 hours, cost five dollars, and could be clicked to your ear or nose or whatever. Through a large bank of double doors located the dancefloor with strobe lights, spinning all-in-the-dark things, half-inflated silver spacemen hanging through trapdoors in the ceiling. The dancefloor itself was huge, with recess balconies at two sides to handle the large number of techies apparently required to keep all the lights flashing and the mikes feeding back. The facilities that Bonds where dance or drop. There was absolutely no seating anywhere! We crashed for a few minutes on the carpeted steps leading up to yet another bark, that was quickly shooed away. Eventually, we settled on the beer-sticky, crude covered floor in front of the stage. Yeach.

Opening at 10 o'clock was a quartet called the Nitecaps, trading vocals between the rhythm guitarist(a bit week) and the lead (great!), They covered some R&B and rock standards in clean, tight version. The highlight was a reggae "Ain't no sunshine" that really worked; being made it all their own. Halfway through they were joined by a three-piece horn section that complimented then perfectly. "Hey!," said the lead, "thanks a lot. We thought we were going to get our asses kicked off the stage by you guys!".
Half an hour later came the backless, three men and a roadie who had trouble staying off the stage. The lead was tall, gangly and scared hostility at the audience. New wave, I guess, or maybe myopia. The match your bassman specialised in interesting expressions. Band, performances, material all forgettable.

By this time the floor was beginning to get crowded as the fashionably late arrived and started pressing forward. Between-set dance music, provided by a DJ was announced herself as "Pearl Harbour" (The one and only?) pounded through the air at only slightly less than lethal levels and talking was impossible. The minutes past. One or two people dance to it, but most of us should fall about for a better viewpoint and glanced nervously at our watches. Finally, midnight arrived! Sorted five after midnight. And 10 after midnight. And so on. There was little activity on the stage. The audience began to get annoyed, whistling and clapping between each song and few people. Time crawled by.

And then at 12:30 twelve-thirty, the incessant thumping of bonds discorama sound system gave way to the haunting strains of Ennio Morricone's music from "a few dollars more". By the time the last strands of spaghetti had faded, the Clash were on stage and the audience what's on their(Aching) feet, pressing toward them. There you work you buy their records, you read about them, you plastered the wall with posters, you watch them on TV and film, always nice and safe and remote. Actually, being there was a little scary, almost like a personal commitment. I had a brief paranoid fantasy Joe Strom announced that sure the Afghan rebels will be recruiting in the lobby, as he just knew we all wanted to join up.

Strummer wore the usual paramilitary garb and his "ignore alien orders" guitar. Mick Jones was in a rumpled suit, snarly-haired and glassy-eyed. Paul Simmon was shirtless, white base hanging law against his black leather trousers. Top heating was there, too hidden behind his drum set. Know Mickey Gallagher or--thankfully--Micky Dread.

With a shout of "good evening!" they launched into "London calling" and followed it with "Safe European home", both strong solid versions and the audience sang along. This set the tone for the show. Except for a stupid stoned-out woman in front of me, there was surprisingly little dancing."The leader" was the first "Sandinista" song they did; it started a little week but picked up quickly. Longer version of "train in vain" got a big cheer of recognition. They then paused for a breath and Strummer asked, "now what do you want to hear?". Out of 1800 screened answers, somebody must have yelled "White.. (missing page 2)

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