Joe Strummer Live at The Fridge in Brixton

First things first. First impressions can be misleading. "He looks just like Bruce Springsteen," the bloke next to me observed. Well, the re-born Strummer may look as clean-cut and healthy as the Boss, he may be as infatuated with rock 'n' roll mythology, but from here all comparisons evaporate.

Where the 1988 delux model Springsteen bends at the housemaid's knee to maturity and his role in an adult society, Joe Strummer is now discovering the wrecklessness of a second youth. Over half his present audience were soiling nappies when "Garageland" first short-circuited radios, but the man still has venom on his tongueand shrapnel lodged close to his heart. He still thrives off aggression and oppression, syphoning off rage and injustice.

If it's surprising that Strummer's resurrection has come at a time when pop's closest living relative is apathy, it's one of the miracles of modern culture that he's now , once again, regarded as the custodian of pop's conscience.

Watching Strummer's leg jackhammering the stage and arm frantically pulverising his guitar is like watching a prize fighter go 15 rounds with his past. The latter-day Lazarus had made so many mistakes in his career that one more slip would scarcely have been noticed, but after the barrage of "Running Down The Railroad Track" it was clear tonight was no error. More like happy accident.

{Unintelligable} a man who owns an expensive house in Notting Hill spearheading an anti-yuppie tour, standing in front of a huge skull and crossbones with "Rock Against The Rich" tattooed around it. But Strummer still lives in a sitting room where there's nowhere to sit, with no carpets, no TV, and no records. The only prominent feature to be seen is a giant atlas opened at Central America. It's no surprise he's still able to interweave rock'n'roll, Latino jive and roots reggae with such efficacy. He lives the same cross-cultural carnival he plays.

Of all the things that have been said about Strummer, the most astute was the Stud Brothers' description of him as the closest a white man has ever come to being a black bluesman. He plays the part of rock'n'roll desperado because he has the desperate need to play rock'n'roll.

Time passed, he gritted his teeth, he snarled through his verses, he stalked around the ring, and somehow Strummer managed to stop the second hand by revising and revitalising the second-hand. He narrowly averted corrupting "Junco Partner" and his shotgun version of The Pogues' "If I Should Fall From Grace With God" sent tremors jarring up the spinal cord. Even newer nursery rhymes like "Trash City" competed with the hypnotic lilting chant of "Straight to Hell", and the shimmering forearm smash of "Shouting Street".

Every time he delved into the well of Clash history the result was hysteria: a tight-knit "Police And Theives", a sand-blasted "Brand New Cadillac" and dishevelled "London Calling" caused the usual mayhem and stage invasions, yet Strummer the man never quite eroded Strummer the myth - and those hoping for an ill-fated Clash reunion were left sorry but not mournful. His pulse now beats in time with his former life in The 101ers.

The irony that guided his cover of "Love Of The Common People" was lost amid the fists and frenzy, and at times his backing banditos folded in disarray, but Strummer has learnt that consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative, and his zealot's armour proved that his conviction need not be a life sentence.

He still knows countless ways of bruising an audience black'n'blue. He still knows how to fight. Amazingly enough, he is still a contender.

Mico, Ted Melody Maker July 2, 1988