<"Bernie Rhodes knows, don't AH-gue!"
Neville Staple and his prop machine gun,
Neville Staple and his prop machine gun,
seconds before kicking off "Gangsters"
on "Saturday Night Live," April 19, 1980:
YouTube screen capture>
on "Saturday Night Live," April 19, 1980:
YouTube screen capture>
<The Specials: "Saturday Night Live," April 19, 1980,
mine their signature groove during "Gangsters":
L-R: Roddy Radiation (nee Byers),
Horace Panter, Neville Staple, Terry Hall,
John Bradbury (on drum riser, obscured),
Lynval Golding, Jerry Dammers (at keyboard, out of shot):
YouTube screen capture>
"I grew up in an environment where you didn't really know where you were from. Coventry was built on immigrants because it was an industrial city looking for cheap labor. I don't think it's an accident that a group like the Specials came out of that." (Terry Hall, Dorset Echo, 12/11/15)
<i.>
<Front Cover Art
Bootleg tape I bought in the UK:
Specials, The Lyceum, London, 12/2/79>
YouTube screen capture>
"I grew up in an environment where you didn't really know where you were from. Coventry was built on immigrants because it was an industrial city looking for cheap labor. I don't think it's an accident that a group like the Specials came out of that." (Terry Hall, Dorset Echo, 12/11/15)
<i.>
How often do we witness a game-changing moment? For me, the Specials' performance on NBC-TV's "Saturday Night Live" (April 19, 1980) qualifies, because it marked my first real introduction to this ska-punk thing I'd been reading about in rags like CREEM, and Rolling Stone.
I was well into my deep dive through the worlds of punk, New Wave and garage, augmented by a healthy dose of dub, reggae, and whatever experimental sounds I could get my hands on. When I wasn't hitting the local record shops, I'd spend hours scouring the dollar eight track bins, looking for classics that I'd missed the first time around, or obscurities that seemed intriguing.
I'd stay up until one or two a.m. on Friday and Saturday nights, enduring the likes of Dr. Hook on "The Midnight Special," so I could catch the latest left field favorites that had struck my fancy. (They usually showed them last, or next to last, of course.) As much as people dissed rock on TV back then, for me, it was a lifeline in an area where Foreigner and REO Speedwagon reigned supreme.
I'd stay up until one or two a.m. on Friday and Saturday nights, enduring the likes of Dr. Hook on "The Midnight Special," so I could catch the latest left field favorites that had struck my fancy. (They usually showed them last, or next to last, of course.) As much as people dissed rock on TV back then, for me, it was a lifeline in an area where Foreigner and REO Speedwagon reigned supreme.
With that feeling in mind, I eagerly awaited the Specials' American TV debut. Like millions of other American teenagers, what I knew about ska could fit on a postcard -- that it had preceded reggae in Jamaica, during the late '60s, and had a distinct socially conscious tinge, too. But what it sounded like, I had no clue, so I didn't know what to expect.
The mystery cleared up right away when co-vocalist Neville Staple stepped onstage shouting, "Bernie Rhodes knows, don't argue," the spoken intro that kicks off their classic debut single, "Gangsters" -- a backhanded tribute of sorts to the Clash's supremo, who'd briefly been their manager.
Then it was one, two, three, four, and bam! The screen exploded into a blur of arms, legs, and adrenaline, as the purple-suited lead singer, Terry Hall, bit down on lyrics that equated music biz skulduggery ("Why must you record my phone call? Are you planning a bootleg LP?") with society at large ("I dread to think, what the future'll be/When we're living in real gangster time!").
Seeing this seven-piece shimmying and sliding across SNL's postage-stamp sized stage, with barely a letup, nor any pause for breath, made for a riveting spectacle, to put it mildly. The sight repeated itself for the second song, "Too Much Too Young," a dour sideswipe at marriage and family life ("Ain't he cute? No he ain't/He's just another burden of the welfare state").
When the smoke cleared from my ears, and my brain, I had no doubt that I'd witnessed something special. Ah, so that's what they mean by this thing called ska, I thought. More, please! More, more, more of this short sharp shock!
My father, with whom I'd been watching the show in the den, offered a characteristically different take. He looked up long enough from his evening paper, to declare, "They all jump around like wire dolls!"
My father, with whom I'd been watching the show in the den, offered a characteristically different take. He looked up long enough from his evening paper, to declare, "They all jump around like wire dolls!"
That sealed the deal for me! I promptly went out and bought the classic debut album The Specials, recorded and released a scant six months before their TV appearance, in October 1979. It didn't leave my turntable for the next six months, I'm sure of that.
Bootleg tape I bought in the UK:
Specials, The Lyceum, London, 12/2/79>
<ii.>
It's always tough when we lose the iconic favorites we've grown up with, but 2022 has felt harder than most. The past couple months alone have seen the passing of Jet Black (12/6), Tyrone Downie (11/5), Martin Duffy (12/18), Wilko Johnson (11/21), Keith Levene (11/11), Kim Simmonds (12/13), Nik Turner (11/10) -- names I'd long ago gotten used to seeing, on album and CD credits -- and now, Terry Hall, who died at 63, on December 18, after a brief battle with pancreatic cancer.
Still, his passing felt especially shocking, as the reunited band -- now functioning as a quorum of Hall, Golding, and Panter -- were preparing to realize a long-held ambition of cutting a reggae-flavored album in the US. On the surface, anyway, nothing had seemed amiss. Yet behind the scenes, the singer's health was rapidly entering its final downward spiral, as Panter has since clarified, via a lengthy, emotional post on his Facebook timeline.
The moment feels eerily apropos, coming almost 20 years to the passing of the Clash's iconic frontman, Joe Strummer (12/21/02), who took the Specials out on tour with them after seeing one of their gigs, an act that cemented their status as a groundbreaking band.
The moment feels eerily apropos, coming almost 20 years to the passing of the Clash's iconic frontman, Joe Strummer (12/21/02), who took the Specials out on tour with them after seeing one of their gigs, an act that cemented their status as a groundbreaking band.
Like Strummer, Hall essentially learned his trade in public, though getting there took some time, as he told The Big Issue in 2021. Having left school at 15, "I was just starting to get an angle on what I wanted to be and what I wanted to do," he said.
"There was a period where I was signing on and using my dole money to buy records. Young Americans by David Bowie was a defining record for me and I had the first inkling that maybe I wanted to be in a band. But I found it difficult to work out how you actually did it."
"There was a period where I was signing on and using my dole money to buy records. Young Americans by David Bowie was a defining record for me and I had the first inkling that maybe I wanted to be in a band. But I found it difficult to work out how you actually did it."
The "aha" moment, of course, came from catching the Clash and the Sex Pistols in action. After a brief stint with The Squad, Coventry's answer to punk rock's Year Zero, Hall joined The Specials. "They didn't seem like they could play very well either, so the thing was to form a band and work it out. That's what we did."
Above: The '79 bootleg cassette song list
Below: That iconic first LP back cover shot
Below: That iconic first LP back cover shot
<iii.>
They certainly did. What hasn't already been said about The Specials, released only six months after Margaret Thatcher's election as Prime Minister? The All Music Guide states the case perfectly for me: "A perfect moment in time captured on vinyl forever." Then and now, few debut albums sound more fully realized. And few soundtracked the times to such chilling, yet ear-catching. effect. The mood shifts from defiant resolve ("It's Up To You": "Stand there like parked cars if you want to/We can't force you to enjoy this music/Take it or leave it, we'll carry on regardless"), to fear of confrontation (Byers' "Concrete Jungle": "I can't dress the way I want/I'm being chased by the National Front"), and pleas for tolerance ("Doesn't Make It All Right": "Just because you're a black boy/Just because you're a white/It doesn't mean you've got to hate him/It doesn't mean you've got to fight").
Humorous moments abound, too, particularly on the covers, like "Monkey Man," and originals like "Stupid Marriage," with Staple presiding as "Judge Roughneck" over a rude boy who's smashed up his ex-girlfriend's window. Now headed off to five months in prison, the jilted ex-boyfriend summarizes the anonymous couple's empty, pointless existence in one withering couplet: "Naked woman, naked man, where did you get that nice suntan?" The song ends with a cymbal crash, as the good judge shouts: "TAKE HIM AWAY!"
Yet beneath the good times, the whiffs of missed opportunities are never far away, as Hall laments in "Nite Klub" ("Is the place to be? What am I doing here, watching the girls go by, spending money on beer?"). Staple voices similar frustrations in "Dawning Of A New Era," after hitting it off with the girl from Area Three ("I climbed the stairs to the fourteenth floor/The key won't fit the door"), amid the threat of racially tinged violence that's never far ("Sticks and stones may break my bones/In Area Six, they threw bottles and bricks and kicks").
Throughout all these goings-on, Hall's voice serves as just much of an instrument as Dammers's bubbling organ, or the clipped, staccato bursts of guitar from Byers and Golding, or the sheer limber agility of the Bradbury-Panter rhythm section. One of my Facebook friends described him as "a singular singer," and that's definitely true here -- as his voice zigzags from outright contempt, to been-there, done-that indifference, to unbounded outrage at the turmoil of late '70s Britain that he and his bandmates were chronicling.
Though not a trained vocalist, Hall was already working out the signature persona that would define much of his career -- the weary observer who found the strength to endure, yet never stopped calling out the injustices around him. As Hall told The Big Issue: "Politics and music has always gone hand in hand with The Specials, especially on our first album [in 1979]. Even if we couldn’t change things, we could make people aware."
For me, seeing the band on "Saturday Night Live" was as close as I got to experiencing them live. Then again, I didn't feel put out, as The Specials offers more an apt snapshot of their unique onstage alchemy. As producer, Elvis Costello did a great job of capturing that vibe; even if you weren't there in person, you get the idea.
Though ska and reggae formed the bedrock of the band's sound, "if you listen to the first album, it's not all ska," as Panter himself pointed out, when I interviewed him in 1996. True enough. There's plenty of punk-infused energy to spare, of course, with subtle nods to funk, pop, soul, and even a gentle ballad ("You're Wondering Now," since retooled into an uptempo theme song for the Caribbean crime show, "Death In Paradise"). Whatever the band tried worked wonders, and really, who could resist such unbounded energy? The future seemed bright, indeed.
For me, seeing the band on "Saturday Night Live" was as close as I got to experiencing them live. Then again, I didn't feel put out, as The Specials offers more an apt snapshot of their unique onstage alchemy. As producer, Elvis Costello did a great job of capturing that vibe; even if you weren't there in person, you get the idea.
Though ska and reggae formed the bedrock of the band's sound, "if you listen to the first album, it's not all ska," as Panter himself pointed out, when I interviewed him in 1996. True enough. There's plenty of punk-infused energy to spare, of course, with subtle nods to funk, pop, soul, and even a gentle ballad ("You're Wondering Now," since retooled into an uptempo theme song for the Caribbean crime show, "Death In Paradise"). Whatever the band tried worked wonders, and really, who could resist such unbounded energy? The future seemed bright, indeed.
<Terry Hall and June Miles-Kingston,
duetting on "Our Lips Are Sealed,"
The Regal Theater, Hitchin, 1983:
Terry Hall Fanpage (YouTube)>
"The Specials' ascendancy was swift. Two years, seven hit singles including two number ones, two hit albums, sell-out tours – the mass stage-invasions and audience energy only adding to the myth. They were everywhere; on Top of the Pops, Radio One, nightclubs and school discos. At the time, the nation could not have seemed more polarised: far right youth cults, violence on the streets, conservative government. Their demise, however, was rapid."
<thespecials.com>
<iv.>
The Regal Theater, Hitchin, 1983:
Terry Hall Fanpage (YouTube)>
"The Specials' ascendancy was swift. Two years, seven hit singles including two number ones, two hit albums, sell-out tours – the mass stage-invasions and audience energy only adding to the myth. They were everywhere; on Top of the Pops, Radio One, nightclubs and school discos. At the time, the nation could not have seemed more polarised: far right youth cults, violence on the streets, conservative government. Their demise, however, was rapid."
<thespecials.com>
<iv.>
If Terry Hall had never recorded anything else after The Specials, that album alone would have secured his legacy as a top level lyric writer and performer. As it turned out, his run was just beginning, after he, Lynval and Neville quit the Specials to form their next band, Fun Boy Three.
They left after scoring a #1 UK hit with the non-album single, "Ghost Town," a grim recounting of a nation literally coming apart at the seams ("This town is coming like a ghost town/Why must the youth fight against themselves? Government leaving the youth on the shelf"). As career cues go, Hall felt distinctly uncomfortable with the timing ("Why do we need that reward – to say, OK, the world’s shit, our country’s in a mess, do you like my gold record?")
They left after scoring a #1 UK hit with the non-album single, "Ghost Town," a grim recounting of a nation literally coming apart at the seams ("This town is coming like a ghost town/Why must the youth fight against themselves? Government leaving the youth on the shelf"). As career cues go, Hall felt distinctly uncomfortable with the timing ("Why do we need that reward – to say, OK, the world’s shit, our country’s in a mess, do you like my gold record?")
The trio also felt unsatisfied with the second album, More Specials (1981). Having re-listened to it this week, I understand why, but that's another story for another time. Burned out from constant touring, Hall and his cohorts wanted to take the pedal off the metal, and strike out in a different direction.
They hit a home run on Waiting (1983), the second Fun Boy Three album, which is probably best known for the "other" version of the Go-Gos' breakthrough hit, "Our Lips Are Sealed. Guitarist Jane Wiiedlin co-wrote the track with Hall, with whom she shared a brief dalliance, during a seaside tour of Britain in 1980. I prefer the Fun Boy Three version, whose slower-burning, somber vibe brings out more of the song's emotional nuances, but to each their own.
But there's way more to the story. Waiting, Like The Specials, is a cross-section of social ills, only with glossier brush strokes. This is the decade, after all, where Thatcher infamously intoned, "There is no such thing as society." Taken on those terms, "The Things We Do" seems like the perfect soundtrack for Thatcher's endorsement of social ennui, as Hall croons over a cello- and piano-laden backdrop: "Do middle-aged women wear cameo brooches? Do young office lechers drive clapped out Porsches? Do salesgirls at Tescos wear boots number seven? Do you eat digestives at half past eleven?"
A verse later, he supplies the dispiriting punchline: "Is this what we are? Is there nothing inside? If you swallow your food, would you swallow your pride?" Not a pretty picture of humanity, is it? But the wealth of detail packed into each line makes the song feel believable, and we can all think of suitably American examples of the kind of people that Hall's describing.
A verse later, he supplies the dispiriting punchline: "Is this what we are? Is there nothing inside? If you swallow your food, would you swallow your pride?" Not a pretty picture of humanity, is it? But the wealth of detail packed into each line makes the song feel believable, and we can all think of suitably American examples of the kind of people that Hall's describing.
My other favorite tracks include "The More I See (The Less I Believe"), which shines a light on that complicated subject called Northern Ireland ("The barbed wire fences have replaced all the trees"), and "The Farm Yard Connection," a pointed, journalistic-style look at who really benefits from the drug trade ("And when the law squad come and took away our weed, bam goes another week's wages, bam goes our family's feed"), an issue lost to its clueless customers ("They talked about life but missed all the points, points, points, points, points, points, points").
You also get lighter moments, such as "We're Having All The Fun," a Ramones-style celebration of the ordinary, in which each vocalist takes a verse to describe what they like doing every day. It doesn't prepare you for "Well Fancy That," which closes the US version, and ranks among the most chilling songs about sex abuse ever written ("I feel asleep/Woke up with a shock/And your hands on me/I couldn't shout/I couldn't scream"), an experience that Hall endured at age 12, and one that prompted him to become an active mental health advocate later in life.
When the Specials reunited in 2008, the band set up stalls on behalf of Tonic For Mental Health, a charity that Hall actively aided and supported until his death. The results proved remarkable to see, as Tonic's founder and chief executive, Steph Langan, told The Daily Telegraph:
When the Specials reunited in 2008, the band set up stalls on behalf of Tonic For Mental Health, a charity that Hall actively aided and supported until his death. The results proved remarkable to see, as Tonic's founder and chief executive, Steph Langan, told The Daily Telegraph:
“At Specials gigs we would have older skinhead men crying and opening up, and that was quite incredible because we were able to reach people that we wouldn’t otherwise have been able to reach. A lot of fans of The Specials are men of a certain age who probably have never really opened up about their mental health before.”
<Terry Hall, The Colourfield:
Live On "The Tube,"
Newcastle, 3/3/84>
<v.>
Links To Go (Tip Your Hat, Take It All In,
In typical fashion, Hall didn't stay in one place too long. The Fun Boy Three officially closed up shop on July 7, 1983, after a show at the Ritz, in New York City. (Contrarians to the end, their setlist had expanded to include an unlikely take on the Doors' epic ode to patricide, "The End.") Hall's next band, The Colourfield, staked out a darker, more introspective, acoustic-based path, but his lyrical acuity remained sharp as ever.
For proof, look no further than "Pushing Up Daisies," a smack at the pop biz that he'd never felt fully comfortable inhabiting ("There's no business like show business, like no business I know/The curtain falls to no applause/When no one goes to sell out shows/You're pushing up the daisies"), or "Sorry," which recounts the sorrow of a relationship built on sand ("We're trying to turn the clocks back, to find the missing piece/But every time we smile, we smile through bridged teeth").
Even as longtime fans hoped for a Specials reunion, you had to respect Hall's determination not to retrace his steps, purely for profit -- unlike many of his peers from the era that produced him.
The next couple of decades yielded two '90s-era solo albums (Home, Laugh), and a dizzying series of collaborations (Dub Pistols; D12; Gorillaz; Hall and Mushtaq; Terry, Blair & Anouchka; Vegas, a duo with the Eurythmics' Dave Stewart). I'm not familiar with most of these, honestly, so we'll have to leave it there for now (but it'll be worth another essay, once I rectify that omission).
Inevitably, though, perhaps, the Specials resurrected themselves -- alongside many of their fellow 2-Tone alumni, including the English Beat, Madness, and The Selecter -- and seemingly picked up where they left off. Two new albums quickly followed, including Encore (2019) -- the first new material to feature Hall, since 1981 -- and the self-explanatorily-titled Protest Songs 1924-2012 (2021).
Both peaked at #1 and #2 UK, respectively, showing the band as to be prescient and relevant as it had ever been. "When we made the first Specials record, there was a woman prime minister -- a Tory -- and today, there is a woman prime minister Tory [Theresa May," as Hall wryly observed, at the time of Encore's release. "But it just feels exactly the same... It's actually got a lot worse."
For me, his influence was massive, like the others that won over my interest -- Joe Strummer and Paul Weller, Billy Bragg and Steve Ignorant, Dick Lucas and Vi Subversa, Viv Albertine and Poly Styrene...the list is endless, and I could go on forever. Like all of those that I've just mentioned, he showed that you could sing about big topics and big ideas without falling into the classic traps of simple sloganeering, or self-mythologizing, or being purely self-serving.
Most importantly of all, he didn't just talk the talk. The Specials' multiracial lineup, in and of itself, provided ample evidence of that ideal in action. So did the other mixed and all-female bands that followed them, and the explosion of ska scenes all around the world. So did his mental health activism, which I've mentioned.
So did the band's formation of its own label (2-Tone), that gave birth to a look, a sound, and a mission statement -- the push for a society that serves everyone's needs, not just those of a fortunate few -- that should provide plenty of inspiration for another generation to create its own soundtrack, in politics and in life.
Hall recognized as much, which framed what he'd tell his younger self, as he outlined in his Big Issue interview: "He paid his way. He didn't tread on anybody getting there. And he did it on his own terms but with respect for others. What more can you want, really? What more is there?"
So there you go. Indeed, he is missed, but in another way, he's still with us, through his words and music. What we do about that? Like the song says: it's up to us. --Chairman Ralph
For proof, look no further than "Pushing Up Daisies," a smack at the pop biz that he'd never felt fully comfortable inhabiting ("There's no business like show business, like no business I know/The curtain falls to no applause/When no one goes to sell out shows/You're pushing up the daisies"), or "Sorry," which recounts the sorrow of a relationship built on sand ("We're trying to turn the clocks back, to find the missing piece/But every time we smile, we smile through bridged teeth").
Even as longtime fans hoped for a Specials reunion, you had to respect Hall's determination not to retrace his steps, purely for profit -- unlike many of his peers from the era that produced him.
The next couple of decades yielded two '90s-era solo albums (Home, Laugh), and a dizzying series of collaborations (Dub Pistols; D12; Gorillaz; Hall and Mushtaq; Terry, Blair & Anouchka; Vegas, a duo with the Eurythmics' Dave Stewart). I'm not familiar with most of these, honestly, so we'll have to leave it there for now (but it'll be worth another essay, once I rectify that omission).
Inevitably, though, perhaps, the Specials resurrected themselves -- alongside many of their fellow 2-Tone alumni, including the English Beat, Madness, and The Selecter -- and seemingly picked up where they left off. Two new albums quickly followed, including Encore (2019) -- the first new material to feature Hall, since 1981 -- and the self-explanatorily-titled Protest Songs 1924-2012 (2021).
Both peaked at #1 and #2 UK, respectively, showing the band as to be prescient and relevant as it had ever been. "When we made the first Specials record, there was a woman prime minister -- a Tory -- and today, there is a woman prime minister Tory [Theresa May," as Hall wryly observed, at the time of Encore's release. "But it just feels exactly the same... It's actually got a lot worse."
<ITV News Interview, 2/1/19:
"Nothing's changed in massively divided Britain...">
<Coda>
So what do we make, exactly, of this combustive cocktail of art and activism? Well, there's no question that, as sad as his death feels, Terry Hall made the most of the time that he had. He made every word count, which gave his lyrics that much greater weight. No matter what he endured, he fought through those experiences, and persevered, which is all you can ask from any artist.For me, his influence was massive, like the others that won over my interest -- Joe Strummer and Paul Weller, Billy Bragg and Steve Ignorant, Dick Lucas and Vi Subversa, Viv Albertine and Poly Styrene...the list is endless, and I could go on forever. Like all of those that I've just mentioned, he showed that you could sing about big topics and big ideas without falling into the classic traps of simple sloganeering, or self-mythologizing, or being purely self-serving.
Most importantly of all, he didn't just talk the talk. The Specials' multiracial lineup, in and of itself, provided ample evidence of that ideal in action. So did the other mixed and all-female bands that followed them, and the explosion of ska scenes all around the world. So did his mental health activism, which I've mentioned.
So did the band's formation of its own label (2-Tone), that gave birth to a look, a sound, and a mission statement -- the push for a society that serves everyone's needs, not just those of a fortunate few -- that should provide plenty of inspiration for another generation to create its own soundtrack, in politics and in life.
Hall recognized as much, which framed what he'd tell his younger self, as he outlined in his Big Issue interview: "He paid his way. He didn't tread on anybody getting there. And he did it on his own terms but with respect for others. What more can you want, really? What more is there?"
So there you go. Indeed, he is missed, but in another way, he's still with us, through his words and music. What we do about that? Like the song says: it's up to us. --Chairman Ralph
Links To Go (Tip Your Hat, Take It All In,
And Think About The Possibilities...)
Chairmanralph.com: "Bernie Rhodes Knows, Don't Argue":
https://www.chairmanralph.com/clashbookdispatches/entry?id=3;fa=1
The Big Issue: Terry Hall:
"The Specials Have Always Been About Protest":
https://www.bigissue.com/culture/music/terry-hall-the-specials-have-always-been-about-protest/
The Daily Telegraph:
Plenty Of Other Rock Stars Open Up
About Mental Health -- But Terry Hall Made Skinheads Cry:
https://www.telegraph.co.uk/music/artists/plenty-rock-stars-open-mental-health-terry-hall-made-skinheads/
Chairmanralph.com: "Bernie Rhodes Knows, Don't Argue":
https://www.chairmanralph.com/clashbookdispatches/entry?id=3;fa=1
The Big Issue: Terry Hall:
"The Specials Have Always Been About Protest":
https://www.bigissue.com/culture/music/terry-hall-the-specials-have-always-been-about-protest/
The Daily Telegraph:
Plenty Of Other Rock Stars Open Up
About Mental Health -- But Terry Hall Made Skinheads Cry:
https://www.telegraph.co.uk/music/artists/plenty-rock-stars-open-mental-health-terry-hall-made-skinheads/
The Guardian: Terry Hall: Specials Frontman
Died Of Pancreatic Cancer...
https://www.theguardian.com/music/2022/dec/21/terry-hall-specials-frontman-died-of-pancreatic-cancer-says-bandmate
The Specials: The Band (Official Website):
https://www.thespecials.com/the-band
Yahoo Entertainment:
Ska Legends The Specials
On Why Their Brexit-Era Comeback Album
Died Of Pancreatic Cancer...
https://www.theguardian.com/music/2022/dec/21/terry-hall-specials-frontman-died-of-pancreatic-cancer-says-bandmate
The Specials: The Band (Official Website):
https://www.thespecials.com/the-band
Yahoo Entertainment:
Ska Legends The Specials
On Why Their Brexit-Era Comeback Album
Has Connected "At A Very Unfortunate Time":
https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/ska-legends-the-specials-on-why-their-brexitera-comeback-album-has-connected-a-very-unfortunate-time-211118672.html
https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/ska-legends-the-specials-on-why-their-brexitera-comeback-album-has-connected-a-very-unfortunate-time-211118672.html
The Specials' Ska And New Wave Pioneer
Terry Hall Dead At 63:
https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/the-specials-ska-and-new-wave-pioneer-terry-hall-dead-at-63-011116952.html
Video Links
BBC:
https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/the-specials-ska-and-new-wave-pioneer-terry-hall-dead-at-63-011116952.html
Video Links
BBC:
2-Tone: The Sound Of Coventry:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qM1sv_gQGxw
BBC Archive ("Arena," 3/12/80):
The Specials, Selecter & 2-Tone:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSK73D4p04o
Channel Four:
2-Tone Britain:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjY7bSnnpQQ
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qM1sv_gQGxw
BBC Archive ("Arena," 3/12/80):
The Specials, Selecter & 2-Tone:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSK73D4p04o
Channel Four:
2-Tone Britain:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LjY7bSnnpQQ
Fun Boy Three:
Live At The Regal Theater, 1983:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HXQpuN45xTA
Fun Boy Three:
Live In Germany: May 11, 1983:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyc5jq5a2PE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HXQpuN45xTA
Fun Boy Three:
Live In Germany: May 11, 1983:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyc5jq5a2PE
