There’s the stage, two guitars, a bass and drums. There’s a sampler that surrounds everything with sound, music loops, random fragments of radio and television speaker’s voices recounting the end of last century. In the background a veil, a curtain on which They appear, the Clash, like real life guardian gods.
And then, an actor tells the story.
An actor?
Yes, because Clash To Me is “also” a show. And yet, it would be better to call him – the actor – an acting punk, not for his hair – it is thin, very thin … - , not even for his age, that period of life when punks burned the candle both ends: 18/21 : yesterday’s children. No, the punk actor isn’t 20 since 20 years ago. He survived fire and gasoline, but for an inextinguishable and sinister restlessness, for an incorrigible attitude known only to him, a punk actor will always be a punk, even when he is forty, bald and with a paunch sagging from last and present century’s fat and malt.
The actor recounts on the stage, where he saw and dreamt about the Clash a thousand times, a story – out of time – with their music and with many minor heroes nobody knows personally but who have been close to all of us. Misfit heroes without future with easily recognisable traits and curses by those who lived the global-plated Punk season.
Clash To Me is the story – harsh, comic and tragic – of a rebellion that perhaps never was but which branded the punk actor and all those like him.
Sound, music, video and rage to a rhythm that is still burning today and always will.