Plenty of “Burn it with fire!/I’m almost glad Joe’s not here to see this” reaction to the Converse “Clash” limited edition high tops in 2010.
But his widow surely had to sign some kind of agreement to permit their production and sale?
And what, really, could be more “Clash” than running shoes with the words “THE CLASH” written on them in giant ass letters?
No group has ever written so many songs about itself. (Discuss.) So the shoes are very meta if you think about it.
The only offensive part of the whole thing was that the official Converse press release called London Calling a triple album.
Original Chucks in action, in a pretty awful early version of “What’s My Name?”
More importantly, I’ve just noticed this fantastic recent comment under my old-ish “Urban Outfitters” post:
Don’t worry about turning 50 Kaff. Many years ago I had a chat with Mick Jones of The Clash. I was a member of a couple of nearly-but-not-quite bands in the late 70’s, early 80’s and I was in some pub in South London (Stockwell maybe) and Mick was there so we chatted about picking techniques and our mutual admiration for Yes guitarist Steve Howe.
As you point out that conversation could never have happened with Sid or Johnny, never in a million years.
But don’t worry about turning 50. You just get a tiny bit more irritable that’s all. Now if you’ll forgive me I have to reach for my shotgun. There is a small contingent of gyppoes threatening to camp in my f***ing field. This is more worrying than anything Urban Outfitters can come up with.
Pete (age 53 and 1/2)
Having been welcomed backstage by Mott et al as a teenager, Mick is famously open to chatting with young musicians.
Here he is with the then-10-year-old Harley Flanagan, perhaps advising him not to go around stabbing people.
BONUS UPDATE from a reader this a.m., who notes, “And this is the difference between the 1970s and today. I wish it said ‘stand’…”