The Clash were an English punk rock band, active from 1976 to 1986, part of the original wave of UK punk.[1][2][3][4] Along with punk rock, they experimented with reggae, funk, rap, dub, rock and roll and rockabilly.[5][6] The band were formed by Joe Strummer (lead vocals, rhythm guitar), Mick Jones (lead guitar, backing vocals) and Paul Simonon (bass guitar, backing vocals). They originally had a revolving drumming position; Terry Chimes featured on the band's eponymous first album, The Clash, released in April 1977. Needing a stable drummer, they were joined later that year by Jones's friend Nicky "Topper" Headon (drums, percussion).[7] This is the lineup from the band's peak, responsible for most of its recorded output, and the lineup named by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The group disbanded in early 1986, owing to lack of creative control and the loss of Headon in 1982 and Jones in 1983 due to internal friction. Strummer later apologised for their firing, admitting that it was a huge loss to the band.

The Clash were a major success in the UK from the release of their debut album. Their third album, London Calling, released in the UK in December 1979, brought them popularity in the United States when it came out there the following year. It received wide critical acclaim; a decade later Rolling Stone magazine declared it the best album of the 1980s.[8] Rolling Stone also placed it at #8, The Clash at #77, and Sandinista!, the band's fourth album, at #404 on their 2003 list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

The Clash's style and rebellious attitude, along with their music, had a far-reaching influence on rock, alternative rock in particular.[10] Their record label's A&R director dubbed them "The Only British Band That Matters," which fans picked up and transformed into "The Only Band That Matters".[11] In January 2003 they were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.[12] The band wanted to play at the event, but were prevented by Joe Strummer's untimely death in December 2002. In 2004, Rolling Stone ranked The Clash #30 on their list of the 100 Greatest Artists of All Time.

Lately, The Dollyrots and their music have been turning up everywhere. The band has shared stages with the like-minded Muffs and Soviettes, they're currently touring the nation, and they'll be hooking up with the Warped Tour in July. Dollyrots songs have been used on CSI:NY, and frontwoman Kelly Ogden appeared in an episode of the program as the bassist of a fictitious rock group (and even got to be "murdered" on network TV by a bandmate! How punk is that?) The exuberant "Watch Me Go (Kissed Me, Killed Me)" is set to be featured on The Simple Life; "This Cruch" received airtime on The Style Network and lead single "Because I'm Awesome" on Ugly Betty. Sirius Radio deejay and rock 'n' roll hero Little Steven named "Because I'm Awesome" the "coolest song in the world".

The track offers some ironic self-affirmation. It's all done with a wink and put-on pout, and it's as much a critique of the pomp and hyperbole of the music industry as it is a commentary on culture of self-promotion in Los Angeles. For the video, they've also found the perfect metaphor: the tryouts of American Idol. The clip finds the band at the filming of a hypothetical reality show called Because I'm Awesome, and the camera scans the long lines of disaffected performers waiting to strut their stuff. The judges are here, too, leaning back in their padded chairs, pointing pens at the would-be rock stars, and critiquing the performances with a diagnostic eye and a sense of entitlement. The three Dollyrots stand before the logo in different guises: a California girl, a cowboy, a rapper in a hoodie, a glamour queen in a black dress, an anarchic cheerleader. Ogden even puts on a bunny suit with a gas mask and shoves the other contestants. The Dollyrots won't play by the rules; they're storming the gates of the fame industry on their own terms, and according to their own offbeat logic.

Then again, The Exies have always been independents at heart; they're a band unafraid to take risks and make bold moves. For instance, their second 2007 single isn't an album cut at all - it's an Internet-only release, and it's accompanied by an incendiary clip that's already become a sensation on video-sharing sites like YouTube. "God We Look Good (Going Down In Flames)" is a gutsy broadside against the state of contemporary media, a critique of celebrity culture, and a savaging of that which passes for political discourse on the modern airwaves. We have, Stevens seems to be suggesting, lost our nerve at a crucial moment, and we've become distracted by sideshows. "This is the pill, the pill that we swallow," he howls, his reference to The Matrix evident, "the death of us all, the cash, the kill - they're selling us off to make the deal."

The video for "God We Look Good (Going Down In Flames)" is similarly confrontational - and similarly unapologetic. Images flash by, one after another, none lingering on the screen for more than a second. It's like channel-surfing on speed, and at this rate, every shot projected becomes near-subliminal and loaded with meaning. But none of the footage assembled by The Exies will feel unfamiliar to anybody who's got a television: we're shown the faces of complicit politicians, shots of violence, sex, weeping celebrities carted off to prison, missiles, dollar signs, works of fine art, religious symbols, guns. The words "are you ready to go?" and "sell out" struggle to surface; they're a message fighting its way through the chaos. Stevens, too, breaks into the frame from time to time, and he forces his way straight up to the camera to deliver his accusation, as if he's besieged on all sides and wants to make sure he's getting his message across. He grabs the attention of the lens and hangs on to his connection with his audience while he can, like a pit bull with its prey in its mouth. But the tilt-a-whirl of images rushes on, oblivious to objection and seemingly beyond control. Who cycles through these channels, and who stands behind the rush of content that now fills the televised airwaves? The implication here is that nobody is in control: that, instead, we're all being washed downstream by a torrent of meaningless news and gossip, one greased by money and power but generated and perpetuated by its own sick momentum.

Exaggeration? Well, surely a little. The New Rivals don't really have a road vehicle that contains extra-dimensional space. But over the past three years, they have been bringing the party wherever they go. The Sayville, New York combo has gigged relentlessly, tearing up small clubs across the East Coast with their high-energy set; this November, they'll be sharing stages indie rock legends The Lemonheads, and also with punk progenitors Stiff Little Fingers. Even the notoriously hard-to-please Rafer Guzman of New York Newsday has given the group his nod of approval ("disc to look for," . . . "fans of NOFX, Blink-182, and Green Day won't be disappointed"). Fire For Effect, their debut EP, was a four-song rush of adrenaline that left listeners asking if the Rivals could sustain that sort of intensity over a full-length. Wonder no longer: the band's first full-length for Sobe Entertainment is a non-stop rollercoaster ride. Even the "Love Song" turns out to be formal satire. "Ready for a ballad?", asks the band, before replying to their own facetious question, "yeah, neither are The New Rivals".

But make no mistake: these two-fisted rockers are no lunkheads. On the contrary, singer and lyricist Toby Bevis is brash and witty, and favors a succinct, economical address reminiscent of Fat Mike or Billy Joe. We're sure NOFX would love "Mudslinging", a smart, literate get-up-and-go charger that breaks out of the gate like a runaway colt and never slows down. The clip perfectly captures the vibe of a party gone berserk: the van screeches through the streets of Brooklyn, seemingly fueled by the force of the rock within. The New Rivals are ruthless screeners - four scantily-clad car-washer girls make the cut, as does a legit skater, but ugly old dudes are left on the outside, forced to chase the van. Bevis and his bandmates don't mind being homewreckers, either, as they pluck good-looking women from the arms of dweeby (or geriatric) boyfriends, load them in the van, and drive on. At the end, they all hit the open road, Empire State Building in the background, adventure dead ahead.

The Portland trio has ascended to the ranks of America's best-loved punk bands, and they've done so with their wit, their critical detachment, and their conceptual and political sophistication intact. Singer Hutch Harris is outspoken as a rule, and he's used his position as the voice of the Thermals to question authorities of all kinds, pillory the Bush Administration, and shake up the status quo. On 2004's critically-acclaimed Fuckin A, he led the band through twelve furious - and often very funny - broadsides against the powers that be. The Body, The Blood, The Machine raises the stakes considerably: here, The Thermals follow a young couple, on the run from a future Christian-fascist American government not all that much more invasive than the one we currently have. To tell this detailed, dystopic story, the Thermals haven't changed their approach at all. They still deliver irresistibly catchy and thrillingly blunt indie-punk, and Hutch Harris still writes with directness and an emotional honesty remarkable among modern rockers. The trio has proven it's possible to put out a super-smart concept album while staying true to punk's brevity, force, and economy. Consequently, The Body, The Blood, The Machine has become a favorite of skate-kids, indie-music fans, and veteran critics alike. "Narrative and prophecy", insists Robert Christgau, "alt needs, held together and moved ahead by its forthright hooks and beats." "These tracks land like bombs", raves Amanda Petrusich in Pitchfork, who goes on to call the album "weirdly terrifying, totally Orwellian, and grander, louder, and more electrifying than anything the Thermals have spit out before." "Returning To The Fold" comes at a pivotal moment in the story: the protagonists are having misgivings about their flight from the Church-dominated government. Out of the context of the narrative, it's a powerful statement about the manner in which the abuses of organized religion can turn a penitent away from his own spirituality. Masterfully produced by Brendan Canty of Fugazi, "Returning To The Fold" begins with a ringing guitar riff and ends with a wild plea for salvation. In between, Hutch Harris howls, hollers, and testifies - radiating charisma, urgency, desperation, and good humor as he does. No matter how serious their subject-matter can be, Thermals videos are invariably playful. The clip for "Pillar Of Salt", the lead single from The Body, The Blood, The Machine found the band "checking in" for duty on a stage set, tearing it to pieces, and then, the day's work done, calmly clocking out. The trio's terrific sense of humor gets another airing in the "Returning To The Fold" clip, much of which captures the band's endearing hijinks in front of an ever-changing green screen. The video opens with a slo-mo pan along a country road; the members of The Thermals are flung before the lens as if they've been heaved there by a catapult. Undaunted, they get up and begin to charge after the camera as it recedes. Later, the three cram into a kid's buggy (with instruments!) as it careens through the city streets; the toy car capsizes, of course, but the musicians get right up and begin to chase the filmmaker once again. The indestructibility of The Thermals's enthusiasm is made manifest: no matter what happens, they keep getting the message out. Don't miss the final shot - it's a loving homage to the clip for "Sweater Song" by Weezer, another band that paired fun-loving punk with serious commentary to winning results.