(see also: "Awards", "Festivals" "Demos" "Respect" "Side Projects" "Lyrics" "Touring")
People say to me
"Clive' (they say) 'you are a 65 year old man, isn't it time you knocked
the old punk thing on the head? You've paid your dues, no one could have given
more than you. Isn't it time you gave it a rest?"
This is mainly my wife,
when she wants me to do the washing up. Or my pal, Lobley, when he's trying to persuade
me to go on a fishing trip with him. I think he always hoped retirement would
mean we could spend quality time together, not arguing about bass solos and brass
arrangements.
But it's not something
you can switch off. And besides, fishing can be punk. It's just not punk right
now.
Because Punk is
something that continuously evolves. And that's why I have continuously
evolved. Most artists can't deal with that responsibility. They'd rather get a
tattoo of a Chinese proverb and a spiky haircut and everyone knows the Chinese
are the least Punk Rock nation on Earth.
It was Punk when John
Lydon went on Celebrity Jungle People. It was Punk when he walked out. It was
Punk when he did the butter advert. It was Punk he only did one advert then
walked away, at the height of his fame as the face of butter. Can you
honestly say you'd leave that behind?
And it was Punk when I
combined Rockabilly Scat with Waltz-time Deathcore at the tail end of my
Imperial Clubland phase. It was Punk when I went crawling back with a set of
Sinatra standards. And here I am, twenty seven years later, performing a guerrilla
gig every single day of the month when I should supposedly be doing
chores or working like a chump, like what you do.
The only type of
Obvious Punk I can stand is when the band is having a laugh. Punk is meant to
have a sense of humour, of the absurd. It's these serious 'I am going to change
the world' punks who are pathetic. You think the same three chords and some
messy hair and a bit of shouting will change things? You're as bad as these pop
stars.
They think they are
rebels like Damon Albarn. Cult Robin Hood figures, who want to rob from the
rich and give to themselves. Well I earnt my money pal, as well as my Punk Rock
credentials, so don't steal from me. They'd think it was Punk to rob a bank, from
‘the man’, that kind of thing. They are wrong. A true Punk would storm the
bank, waving a sawn off shotgun in their faces, grab all the cash they could
carry, and then blow their own brains out. That'd show ‘em. These fashion punks
don't have the backbone.
I feel like I'm
shouting at a wall a lot of the time. This writings on a blog wall is the new
way of that and it's just no good. People tweeter a joke they hear and think
they are Michael Barrymore. I try and spread the real truth - not the ‘nod-wink,
ha look at that’ reality most people prefer - and it gets me nowhere. I would
be better off actually just shouting at a wall. Maybe people would pay attention
to me then, instead of just walking past, eating their Greg’s sausage and bean
pies.
I think Wakefield
This is why I've been
getting out to new places; Ossett, Purston Jaglin, Middlesbrough
- to force this new choice on people. But it's tiring. I'll die like I
lived - young and at the peak of my game. I'll never stop pushing things
forward. But it'd be nice to know the spirit would be kept alive when I'm gone.
Oh it'd be great to be out there with my pal, fishing the week away, or spring
cleaning with Mrs Smith without a care in the world. But until these kids begin
to even scratch the surface of understanding what Punk really is, I'm sad to
say it feels like there really is no future. No future for you. No future for
me.
Clive Smith
Clive Smith
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