Ten Years Ago Today, Joe Strummer Died

It was December 22, 2002.  Joe had just returned from taking his dog for a walk when he had a massive heart attack in his kitchen.  

Joe had been a pretty healthy guy for most of his life.  Hell, the guy ran marathons.  The thing that killed him was an undiagnosed cardiac condition.  He never had a chance.

Joe wasn’t the saint some make him out to be.  Like anyone, he had his flaws and contradictions.  But there was much to admire in the man.  His music continues to resonate decades after it was recorded. And his activism was inspiring to millions.

Strummer was easily the most unpretentious rock star I’d ever met.  My encounter with him went like this.

Joe was in Toronto on a Mescaleros tour.  He agreed to come in to 102.1 The Edge for an interview on a Saturday morning.  He showed up unceremoniously and with no pretension, carrying only a very well-played, very beat-up guitar.

He wasn’t in the greatest of moods because he had a nasty cold, but since so many dozens of people had turned out to see him in the studio that day, he wasn’t about to disappoint everyone.

“Give me a bucket,” he said.  When it arrived, he used to regularly dispose of some nasty phlegm.  Then he grabbed his guitar and started to warm up before the on-air interview.

But something wasn’t right.  Too many people in the studio.  Too much noise.  Joe couldn’t hear himself or if his guitar was in tune.  So without warning, he stomped out onto Yonge Street, took a position on the sidewalk next to a fire hydrant and began singing at the top of his lungs.  I followed him out.

Being a Saturday, the sidewalk was crowded with heavy traffic in both directions.  To most passers-by , Joe was just another Toronto busker, performing for loose change.  Most ignored him.  

But as Joe was singing as if his life depended on it, one dude gave him a quick glance without stopping. About ten feet further along he paused for a second, then kept walking.  About five feet after that he stopped, spun around and stared for a few seconds.  Then I heard him say, “Nah. It can’t be.”  And he was gone.

Little did you know, friend.  Little did you know…