Born in Ankara Turkey in 1952….
John Mellor was just a little rich boy and a chance to go to art school. He moved around a lot.
He wrote songs, he sang them and played guitar. He was cute… really cute. He was smart too.
He had an easy going way about him. He was the type of guy who could always say something intelligent and thought provoking.
He was a man who in a crowd took the time to look at a picture colored by a child and treat it like a Picasso. He was a husband, a father a friend a son.
A poet, a visionary, a prankster, a thinker, a stoner. He had such compassion, such grace, such patience and such a loving heart.
Seven years ago today that heart gave out on him leaving those who were touched by him in a state of shock. A numbness that never quite goes away.
Joe Strummer kicked ass and took names. He along with Mick Jones, Paul Simonon, Topper Headon and even Terry Chimes rocked our asses via the Clash. They taught us about Sandanistas and warlords, they spoke of White Riots and Rude Boys, they swaggered around in miltary boots with a cigarrette haning from their lips looking like extras from the West Side Story. They amassed a group of fans so loyal that to this day they cannot be swayed. They were the greatest band that ever lived…well to some of us. Greatness cant last forever though of course and the Clash broke up and grew up and moved on and did their own thing. But they were around, helping others raising families. Being dudes.
Joe went solo, did a bit of Earthquake Weather, dabbled in Global music, hug out with the Zulus.. guitar man slingin his way up and down the radio dial bringing foreign beats to the people via his UK radio show.
Joe gathered some boys and grabbed an old friend.. reformed revamped and hit the road as Joe Strummer and The Mescaleros. Rockin houses, rocking hearts.. bringing old school Clashers and tiny little girls into the ring. Preaching and singing Johnny Appleseed holding hands and others hearts. Showing respect showing compassion, showing real soul real life, real man. There was no bull, there was no ego, “cmere you let have a sit- whats on your mind?’
Everyone he met has a story. Everyone who knew him kept a tiny piece of him in their soul. Today I am sad. Today I mourn on the anniversary of my all time hero. If I could roll back the clock to the last time I hugged him goodbye I wouldn’t ever let go. My last words to him were ‘be good’, his to me ‘you too, ay?’.
I try… really I do.