The Clash

 

“When people say that we're a political band, what they usually mean, I gather, is that we're political in the way of, like, left and right - politics with a capital ‘P,’ right? But really, it's politics with a small ‘p,’ like personal politics. When somebody says, ‘You can't do that,’ we think you should stand up and ask why, and not go, ‘Well, all right.’” – Paul Simonon

 

“They OOZE cool.” – Al

 

“They showed us what you needed.  And it was all about heart.” – The Edge (who, along with his bandmates, forgot this lesson around 1990)

 

 

 

 

 

Albums Reviewed:

The Clash (U.S.)

Give ‘Em Enough Rope

London Calling

Sandinista!

Combat Rock

Cut The Crap

Super Black Market Clash

From Here To Eternity: Live

 

 

 

            Just like Al says, above everything else, the Clash are cool.  Between Joe Strummer’s righteous political posturing and Paul Simonon’s slicked-hair, laid-back shtick (personality-wise, Mick Jones and Topper Headon aren’t so interesting), you have a ready-made recipe for coolness, and the Clash followed it through to the end.  They’re also ample proof that you can be original, exciting, creative, interesting, and invigorating without have much in the way of musical “chops,” since they were, and they didn’t.  They began life as one of the British late-70’s punk scene’s leading lights, but ceased, musically, to be a punk band within a year of recording their first album (hell, they stopped being a punk band while they were recording the damn thing), but, no matter what crazy genre they ended up trying, they always stayed true to their original ethos and righteous, smart, populist message.  They did things like not accepting royalties for Sandinista! so that the triple-LP behemoth could be sold for less than the average price of a double album, even though, at the time, they were broke.  I’d like to see U2 do that.

Anyway, musically, they tried everything.  Between London Calling, Sandinista!, and Combat Rock, I think they might have tried every genre of music that had existed up to that time.  Combining Joe Strummer’s love of old roots music, Mick Jones’ tastes for pop and glam, and Paul Simonon’s reggae fetish, there had a lot of influences in the pot, and they teased out all of them, and then a few more for good measure.  And no matter whether they were playing straight punk, rock, and pop, or goofing with dub instrumentals, lazy retro-jazz, ska, skiffle, electro-funk, or whatever, they always sounded like the Clash, and never lost their spirit, at least until it sort of went away for Combat Rock (I’ve never heard Cut the Crap, and don’t plan to ever do so).  However, because of their unparalleled energy and spirit, and the fact that they pushed so many musical boundaries so quickly, they didn’t last very long, and, outside of a couple songs on Combat Boring Rock, all of their best material was splurged out between 1977 and 1980.  But they were definitely NOT lazy (at one time releasing five LP’s of original material in the span of a year), and, in their short time, they contributed a whole heaping load of steamy, delicious, damn good music to this world of ours, including one of the best rock and roll albums of all time.

Lineup!  From left to right in your picture are guitarist/co-songwriter/secondary vocalist Mick Jones, bassist and really fucking cool guy Paul Simonon, drummer and grammar-school-lad-lookalike Topper Headon (a great drummer, by the way, but more the Charlie Watts “knows what the fuck he’s doing” type than the Keith Moon “really flashy” type), and guitarist/co-songwriter/chief vocalist Joe Strummer, who was sort of the Lennon of the Group to Jones’s McCartney, although that’s not to suggest this band was, outside of London Calling, anywhere near as good as the Beatles.  There are also a few other “auxiliary” members, including Terry Chimes, who actually drummed on most of the debut album (or everything on the U.K. version, actually), then replaced Topper when he left in, um, 1983, I think (?), and their cute little reggae buddy Mikey Dread, who probably sings on Sandinista! as much as Mick Jones does.  Joe sang most of the songs, and his growl/snarl/yelp delivery is the one thing you might have to get used to, but I actually love it, and I’m always a bit disappointed when Mick invariably sings lead on the band’s more conventionally-poppy material, like “Train in Vain” or “Somebody Got Murdered.”  Not that Joe Strummer’s voice would actually fit songs like that.  It wouldn’t.  I just fucking LOVE it, you see.  But I’m getting off track.  We have a band to talk about, don’t we?  Yes!  We do.  So let’s get to it.

And, onto the reviews!

 

 

 

 

The Clash (U.S.) (1979)

Rating: 9

Best Song: “(White Man) In Hammersmith Palais”

 

            First off, yes, I am aware that 1979 comes after 1978.  Being from the great military theocracy of the United States of America, I have the American version of this album.  And no, I DIDN’T download it!  I ripped it after getting it out of the library for free, actually (I have multiple ways of illegally obtaining music).  Anyway, the British version of this album came out in 1977, then the Americans repackaged it, took out a bunch of pretty good songs, added a few awesome songs and a couple more pretty good songs, fucked with the running order, and unleashed it on the American public in 1979, after Give ‘Em Enough Rope came out, and after the British version of the debut became the greatest-selling import of all time.  And, yes, I did download mp3’s of the Brit-only songs.  The cool “Deny” and catchy “Protex Blue” are Grade A stuff, “48 Hours” is kinda weak, and I accidentally downloaded Rancid’s rancid cover of “Cheat” instead of the Clash original.  Then, instead of correcting my mistake and downloading the correct version, I decided this was a perfect opportunity to instead make fun of Rancid.  Because the cover is AWFUL.  I dunno, maybe the Clash original sucks balls too, but I doubt it.  The singer is doing his best Joe Strummer snarl impression, but he just comes out sounding constipated.  It’s raunchily bad stuff.  Rancid aren’t that good.

            Anyhoo, the album at hand!  Supposedly the British version of the debut flows better and is a bit more cohesive, but to be honest I don’t give two shits, because most of the new US-only songs are fucking brilliant.  “Jail Guitar Doors” is sorta just OK, yeah, but “Complete Control?”  Yes!  Not withstanding the riff ripped off from “Can’t Explain,” “Clash City Rockers?”  YES!  And don’t forget the band’s fucking superb cover of “I Fought the Law” (love the guitar soloing in there!), as well as the hard-rockin’, pseudo-reggae, nearly-astonishing “(White Man) in Hammersmith Palais,” which is my current bet for the best song these guys ever did (assuming Cut the Crap isn’t actually an unjustly underrated masterpiece).  That “If ADOLF HITLER…flew in today…” line is absolutely transcendent.  I mean, sure, these songs sort of betray the spirit of the original British version of the album…but they’re really, really good.  So I’m “cool” with it.

            But that’s not to say the material left over from the British version is unworthy.  Except for “What’s My Name,” which I think kinda sucks, it’s not!  With a few exceptions, there are plenty of two-minute or so explosions of punk rock political bitterness for everyone!  Sort of.  Because the thing about it is these songs are extremely melodic.  Even sub-two minute ass-kicking energy bursts like “White Riot” and “Janie Jones” (two of my favorite tunes here, actually) are really, really poppy.  They’re fast and angry and bitter, and Joe Strummer has the kind of snarl that shouts “I AM ANGRY ABOUT THINGS!  LISTEN TO ME!  I HAVE IMPORTANT THINGS TO SAY ABOUT THE THINGS I AM ANGRY ABOUT!”, but underneath you can tell these guys are phenomenal songwriters.  Phenomenal happy shiny pop songwriters.  And they can play their instruments, too!  They’re not Led Zeppelin, but they’re not the fucking Sex Pistols either.  Mick Jones throws out some nice solos here and there, and he usually sounds like some kind of classic rootsy-rock dude when he does, even if he’s actually a filthy, unshowered British punk dude who’s aged terribly (Have you seen recent pictures of Mick?  He looks like he’s 70.  He’s more sickly and dilapidated than Keith Richards). 

IRREGARDLESS, the point is that the Clash’s identity as “a punk band in attitude only” was already taking shape during the year or so they actually were a punk band.  The singles slapped on here that they put out in 1978 or so, before Give ‘Em Enough Rope, are blatant evidence of it, but you don’t even need them to tell.  It’s pretty fucking easy when they stick a 6-minute ganja reggae track near the end, anyway, and though I don’t think I like “Police and Thieves” as much as a lot of their later reggae material, it’s still nice, if a little overlong, and I do thoroughly enjoy it as a historical piece, like “Oh!  Look!  The Clash playing straight reggae in 1977!  And not sucking at it!  It’s a cover, sure, but…yeah!  Hmm…”  It’s obscured a little by the insano-orgasmic “(White Man) in Hammersmith Palais,” which shows about 10 years of musical growth from a lot of this album in something like six months, but it’s still something, ain’t it?  It’s got a nice, groovin’ baseline, thoughtful, if unimpressive soloing, a nice re-buildup at the end, cool “oh yeah!” background vocals.  Sure.  Yeah.  Good stuff!  A little long, though.  And “What’s My Name” still sucks.  But not “Career Opportunities!”  “Career opportunities the ones that never knock” is RIGHT!  Because I still don’t have a job for next year.

Even though the Clash ceased to be a punk band before they finished recording their first album, and all the singles added to the U.S. version make them sound more like an especially energetic, creative rock and roll band (which is what they actually were, anyway) than a punk band, I still highly recommend this as a Grade A “punk” document.  Even though it’s sort of not. 

 

Note: I’ve now been able to listen to the U.K. version of the debut several times with all the proper songs in the right order and everything.  To make a long story short, because writing a review of it now and thus having to copy and paste the review above to go below Give ‘Em Enough Rope and rewrite everything to make the new review order make sense (which would be retarted), I’ll give it a 9 as well.  The overall song selection clearly isn’t as strong (the lack of “White Man in Hammersmith Palais” alone makes that true), but it’s a much more unified statement, and the way the album starts out with “Janie Jones” just totally kicks my ass.  So consider this my review of the U.K. debut, and therefore the shortest review in the history of this website.  OK?  Good.

 

 

 

Give ‘Em Enough Rope (1978)

Rating: 8

Best Song: “Safe European Home”

 

            Under-fucking-rated.  People like to go and prattle on about how they slowed down for radio play and easy American consumption (because we, ofcourse, being the smartest people in the world, didn’t think the Clash’s original debut album was fit for release.  And then we probably bombed something, even though Jimmy Carter was president then and we weren’t quite as retarted as we’d be once Ronald “reasonable facsimile of John Wayne” Reagan took over.), and hired the dude who produced Blue Oyster Cult (no, not Bruce “I GOTTA HAVE MORE COWBELL!!!” Dickinson.  The other guy, Sandy Alomar or something…) to produce it, so it’s all not-fast-enough and boring and mediocre.  And, sure, all of the factual material in that sentence is true.  They slowed down and hired Candy Maldonado to produce it to break the American audience.  And, if by “break the American audience,” you mean “get it released there,” they succeeded.  If, however, you mean “sell shitloads of copies,” the damn thing didn’t break the top 100, which just proves (again) that we’re all idiots.  Because, as I said at the start of this over-long, unwieldy period, this record is UNDERRATED, and the opinion that this slightly-slower-ness makes the record blow dong is just unfounded.  This is still the Clash, and they didn’t lose their “Clash-ness” by slowing down a little bit.  They’re still writing super shiny happy pop-rock dressed up in pissed-off, bitter, alive political energy, topped off by Joe Strummer’s super snarl ‘n’ yelp.  And it’s still damn good!

            The rating here is only lower than the debut because I have the U.S. version, and replacing a few good-but-no-better tunes with orgasms like “I Fought the Law” and “(White Man) in Compton, L.A.” is kinda cheating a little.  I’m gonna guess the U.K. version of that record would get an 8, too, though it’s not like I’m gonna make myself a copy of it.  That’d take, like, half an hour!  Fuck THAT!  And fuck those people who disregard this album as blatantly inferior to its predecessor (though it is, but not a lot).  Haven’t these people heard “Safe European Home?”  And its incredibly energetic catchiness and charming “Wheeeere’d ya go?” backing vocals?  And don’t these people realize the song is the equal to everything on the debut bar the top 2 or 3 tunes?  Douches.

            OK, yeah, so nothing’s quite as good as that track (which is AWESOME), but outside of the horrendous “Guns on the Roof” (thought “Clash City Rockers” was a “Can’t Explain” ripoff?  THIS is a “Can’t Explain” ripoff.  The riff has four chords, played in the exact same rhythm as the four chords from “Can’t Explain.”  The first three are the same as that famous Who song, and fourth is so similar that I didn’t realize they had bothered to change even one chord in the riff until I heard the song like three times.), everything else on here is quite fine (like that previous parenthesis?  Did I lose you?  Gotta pay attention.  I have no writing ability, so those types of things are liable (or is it apt?  Or wont?) to occur).  “English Civil War” is sort of a ripoff of that “Johnny come marching home” song, but I prefer to think of it as a reworking.  It’s credited to “Jones/Strummer/Traditional,” so its not like they’re just blatantly ripping stuff off like, oh, I dunno, Led Zeppelin here (Look!  I’m taking shots at my favorite band!  I’m an equal-opportunity asshole!). 

            Plus, the song’s good!  So I can forgive them.  The band isn’t really branching out much beyond their debut here, and songs like “Tommy Gun” and “Cheapskates” really are just sorta-slowed-down versions of “the generic debut-era Clash song,” but I LIKE “the generic debut-era Clash song,” so the songs are still fine, and I prefer to dig deeper to find occasional signs of the remarkable ecleticism that would come from seemingly nowhere to help create one of the best rock and roll albums of all time in their next outing.  Like how “Julie’s in the Drug Squad” is kind of a bouncy barroom piano boogie thing, “Drug Stabbing Time” features a roots-rock-ish saxophone, as well as some interesting chord changes near the end, and “Last Gang in Town” is driven by a neat structure and preponderance of interesting parts (and it better have those parts, since it’s five damn minutes long!  “White Riot” wasn’t even TWO!).  A few songs move a bit more into straight pop territory as well, like the Mick Jones-sung (whose voice, as I said in the intro, I don’t like as much as Strummer’s, but I’ll admit it’s better suited to this not-so-angry pop stuff than “angry, snarling man”) “Stay Free,” which fires off a pretty melody, nice soloing, and fantabulous organ tone, and the closing “All the Young Punks (New Boots and Contracts),” which has this bitchin’ “Wahhh!  Doo-waaaaahhhhh!” vocal thing at the beginning.  It’s cool stuff.

            I think the reason this record’s been underrated might be the image people have of the Clash.  Basically, they were a great, original, energetic punk band, and then they incorporated tons of disparate influences and turned into mega-diverse, boundary-pushing, political warrior pseudo-prophets.  Or something.  Anyway, this record presents the Clash as neither of these things.  From a purely musical standpoint, they aren’t punks anymore, but they’re still pre-London Calling, so they aren’t the powerfully diverse rock prophets either.  At this point they’re just a good rock and roll band, and this is just a good rock and roll album.  Nothing super-special, but real good just the same.  So lower your expectations, mi amigo, and give it a try.

 

 

 

London Calling (1979)

Rating: 10

Best Song: “Clampdown”

 

            To paraphrase Jack Feeny, this album is so good that Rolling Stone once named it the best album of eighties, even though it came out in 1979 (to be fair, the American release was early 1980…but come on, stop following Britney Spears around like a sewer troll and do your fucking homework).  And the funny thing is that you can almost understand their mistake.  Like “oh, man…1979?  Really?  But…it’s so good!  Please?  Can we just pretend it came out in 1980?  Huh?  Can we?”  I mean, this record is so far in scope beyond anything the Clash had ever done before (and in quality beyond anything they’d do after) that it’s not even worth discussing, and I’m writing a whole other review of it at 2 in the morning after working on advanced Greek prose composition for nine hours for just that reason.  That and my original review sucks hyena dick.  But most of my reviews from the first, oh, six months or so of this site suck hyena dick.  And in a year I’ll think the review I’m writing right now sucks hyena dick.  I already think my review of the Clash’s debut album sucks hyena dick. 

But enough about hyena dicks, however tasty they may be.  We have an album to discuss.  A GREAT album.  A PHENOMENAL album.  A SUPERB album.  A BRILLIANT album.  And it basically came from nowhere.  Look at Give ‘Em Enough Rope, and then look at this.  It’s like they moved from slavery to widespread affirmative action in a year, if the Clash were in fact an abstract idea like racial quality rather than a rock and roll band.  “Julie’s in the Drug Squad” was a boogie piano tune and “Drug-Stabbing Time” had a saxophone in it, and other than that it’s not really much of an advance from their debut album (which, no matter how good it was, was just a punk album with a few reggae songs on it, essentially), beyond being less “punk” and more “classic rock.”  And now look at them.  They’ve soaked up about 20 genres of American roots music and Clashified them in a year.  So you’ve got your punk (the title track, which isn’t actually really punk) and reggae (“Revolution Rock” (“The organ PLAY!”), Paul Simonon’s menacing “Guns of Brixton”), but you’ve also got old-school rootsy rockabilly ‘50’s music (“Brand New Cadillac”), guitar phaser-heavy lounge tracks (“Jimmy Jazz”), lounge tracks that turn into ska after 30 seconds for no reason (“Wrong ‘Em Boyo”), bouncy jazz vamps (“The Right Profile”), bombastic piano pop (“The Card Cheat”), some cool shuffly stuff (“Hateful,” “I’m Not Down”), and whatever the fuck genre “Rudie Can’t Fail” is (“Rudie Can’t Fail”…is “kick-ass total happy awesomeness” a genre?), not to mention great straightahead rock stuff (“Death or Glory” the FABULOUS “Clampdown,” with that “what are we gonna do noooooooooooooooow!!!!!!” line) and super-heavenly pop stuff (“Train in Vain,” “Lost in the Supermarket”).  And then a few songs aren’t that great, but there are nineteen here, so expecting every single one to be a winner would be like expecting George W. Bush to respond to a question from the media by either a) giving a straightforward answer that addresses exactly what was asked and isn’t a giant ball of lies or b) not smirking like a complete asshole.

Holy mother of crap, do I love this album.  The one thing that I’m gonna salvage from my crap old not-fucking-sarcastic-enough review is that “wow, that’s really co-HEY!  THAT’S REALLY COOL, TOO!” feeling the record gives you.  It’s like a nonstop parade of really cool things.  The title track smacks you around with its driving political call to action, then the infectiousness of “Brand New Cadillac” takes over (“Jesus Chriiiiiiiiiist!!!  Where’d ya get that CADILLAAAAAAAAC!!!”  God, how much fun was Joe Strummer having in the studio when he belted out that line…), then “Jimmy Jazz” provides you with four minutes of total catchy silliness, and “Hateful” tosses some perfect shuffling poppiness at you, then “Rudie Can’t Fail” is probably my favorite song here outside of “Clampdown,” then…OK, “Spanish Bombs” is good, yeah, but it’s one of the handful of tunes here that doesn’t, you know, give me an orgasm (I know everyone else loves it to death, and it’s good!  Just not great…), but whatever.  The stretch in the middle of “Clampdown” (YYYYEEAAAAAARRRGHHHHH!!), “Guns of Brixton” (Ooooh!  Creepy!), “Wrong ‘Em Boyo” (Hee!  Fun!), and “Death or Glory” (DRIVING ROCK POWERRRR!!!!!) is the heart of the record to me, but there are no weak spots.  A song here or there that’s maybe not total ridiculous A+ quality, but that won’t last long, trust me.

And the production!  I haven’t mentioned the production yet!  For my tastes, as rock goes, it’s just about perfect!  It’s so clean, crisp, thick, full, detailed, and, above all, organic.  No electronic goop or useless echo bullshit that sucks.  The guitars chug, the snare snaps like it should, the bass throbs, the horns blow (in a good way!  They’re HORNS!  That’s what they do).  There’s no overproduction or underproduction or dump crap anywhere that doesn’t sound like it really should be there (except maybe on “Koka Kola” and “Four Horsemen,” which are the only two songs here I’d probably delete if given the chance), and everything is so clear and audible.  It’s like the Strokes’ new album in that it’s clear that no one in the band is a virtuoso at anything, but they work so well together.  Topper Headon’s on top of everything behind the kit.  He’s a great drummer, man.  A band can’t pull off all these styles and come out on top in EVERY ONE without a rhythm section that knows what it’s doing.  “This here music cause a sensation” is RIGHT!  IN MY PANTS! 

So now that’s two things I copied from my old review.  That’s it, though.  I was young and innocent and naïve, producing all those unnecessary capitals, not knowing that the “italics” function can be just as handy and much less annoying to the eye.  I was not very smart.  But a lot’s happened since then.  The Red Sox fucked me over.  Again.  The Patriots didn’t.  Again.  I got myself a wonderful girlfriend (Notice where I put this.  Clearly, I have my priorities straight).  I grew a beard.  And, um…actually, that’s about it.  Seems like a lot to me!  Ah, screw it.  And GET THIS ALBUM!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

Sandinista! (1980)

Rating: 8

Best Song: “Hitsville U.K.”

 

            I’ve been putting off writing this review for a good while, but if I wait one more fucking day I’ll probably have to listen to the whole damn thing again, which, because I barely have time to listen to one normal­-length album a day these days (and won’t have more time again until May 14th), would most likely take me an entire goddamn week to do.  I mean…goddammit.  Good fucking god.  What.  The.  Fucking.  HELL.  Alright….I mean…OK…a TRIPLE ALBUM???  Haven’t you guys ever heard of editing?  Sure, I’m impressed by the workaholic nature of you four blokes (counting London Calling, that’s FIVE LP’s worth of material released in a YEAR!  I wasn’t lying!  Hoo-doggy!), but to sift through this gargantuan mess of an album in one sitting requires either an advanced case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder absolutely no life whatsoever.  A third of the tunes here aren’t even real songs!  You can’t make like five tracks on an album remixes of songs ON THE SAME ALBUM!!!  CAN’T DO IT!!!  Unless you’re a rapper that sucks because 99% of all rap ever produced sucks. 

            Thankfully, I actually like this record a lot…somehow.  Anyway, if I didn’t I’d probably just recreate the above paragraph two more times, spend a fourth paragraph taking some shots at the Bush administration, and then call it a day.  Instead, I’m gonna talk some about why I like this album, despite it’s, um, unwieldy nature.  Should be fun!  Anyhoo, the first time you listen to the album, unless you break up its 36 songs and 145 minutes into three or four different chunks (and even if you do), you won’t like it.  It’ll be a ridiculous, overlong, sloppy mess.  And it’ll actually never cease being that.  This album is, without a doubt, a ridiculous, overlong, sloppy mess.  But eventually a few things should strike you (if you are, in fact, me).  First, you’ll realize that, if you skimmed off the best third of this album and sequenced it right, you could probably make yourself the Clash’s second best effort (it’d still be no London Calling, but if you did a good enough job you could probably get something better than the U.S. version of the debut).  Second, once you slooooowwwwly start to assimilate things and make some sense of the record, you’ll realize that, perversely, the ridiculous sprawl here can actually be a BENEFIT.  Just due to the simple fact that you never know what you’re gonna get from one tune to another, because in terms of diversity this one makes even London Calling look silly (though, ofcourse, not in terms of “really good songs”). 

OK, to prove my point about diversity and sprawl, I’m looking at the track listing right now, and just on the first LP (first 12 songs of disc 1 on the CD reissue) you can find a funk/rap track (“The Magnificent Seven,” which I actually don’t like at all), a novelty sung by a bunch of women (“Hitsville U.K.,” which is my favorite tune here and one of my top 10 Clash songs of all time.  Because I’m fucking retarted), some reggae (the fantastic “Junco Partner,” “The Crooked Beat,” “One More Time”…um, there’s a lot of reggae on this album…), a song of bubbling electronic soup that poses the question, “What would happen if the Cold War were decided in a disco dance-off?” (“Ivan Meets G.I. Joe”), fifties boogie-skiffle music (“The Leader”), really good regular pop (“Something About England,” “Somebody Got Murdered”), a waltz (“Rebel Waltz”), a Mose Allison cover that sounds like the Stray Cats if they were actually any good (“Look Here”), and, finally, a useless bullshit crap dub remix of “One More Time” (“One More Dub”).  And that’s only a third of the album!  But it gives you a good idea of what you’re gonna find when you put the rest on as well.  Handfuls of perfect songs, mixed with intriguing and entertaining genre experiments, topped off with a little too much reggae and few too many crap remix nothing tracks whose only purpose is to pad this thing out to a triple album, because the band obviously came up with the idea before they had enough material, and then failed to get enough material.

            This record intrigues me so much because it can take me to total musical heaven one moment and then send me crashing down the Hades the next, without any rhyme or reason.  “Hitsville U.K.” is one of the neatest songs I’ve heard in a long time, but do they really need to stick “One More Dub” DIRECTLY AFTER “One More Time?”  “Let’s Go Crazy” is calypso music!  And GREAT calypso music!  But I can’t tell you a damn thing about any of the songs that surround it.  “Police on My Back” rocks with a PURPOSE, but “Broadway” is an annoying Broadway vamp that pisses me off.  The vocal “aaaiiieeeeeee!!!” stuff and organ fade-in at the end of “Washington Bullets” is genius, but can someone PLEASE tell me why the band included “Lose This Skin?”  Written and sung by some guy named “Timon Dogg,” who sounds like Geddy Lee’s long-lost twin brother?  Who the FUCK came up with that idea?  And “Mensforth Hill” is a brilliant backwards recording/reworking of “Something About England” (I think…) that usually manages to scare the crap out of me, but the remixes that take up most of side 6 (“Silicone on Sapphire” = “Washington Bullets,” “Version Pardner” = “Junco Partner,” “Career Opportunities” sung by toddlers = “Career Opportunities” not sung by toddlers, “Shepherds Delight” = me taking a shit) just bore the crap out of me with their uselessness. 

Sifting through this baby is sometimes the musical equivalent of trying to find a needle in a haystack.  The difference is that most of the hay is pretty cool, too, except for the straw that sounds like Geddy Fucking Lee.  This record is about as mixed as a mixed bag can get, and it’s alternately exhilarating and maddening for the entire 10 or 12 hours or whatever it runs for.  But it’s always entertaining, and it’s always INTERESTING.  Just be patient.  A lot. 

 

David Dickson (ddickso2@uccs.edu) writes:

 

Really??  "Silicone on Sapphire" is "Washington Bullets" remixed??  I
never knew that.  I mean, it sounds more like something MOBY would
release in a particularly stoned mood.  Speaking of which, the lyrics
to "Washington Bullets" ROCK.  At first, you think they're all
one-sided and "typical political rant-ish", and then they prove you
wrong and get all world-comprehensive on us.  That's MATURITY fer ya.
 Would that Mr. De la Rocha followed the same example. . .

Sorry, dude, but I regard THIS as the real Clash landmark.  London
Calling's great and diverse and all that, but there doesn't seem to be
anything on there that would make one sit up and wonder "Holy SHIT!!
 THIS is the CLASH?!?" any more than there's anything on Mellon Collie
and the Infinite Sadness that would make one sit up and wonder "Holy
SHIT!!  THIS is BILLY CORGAN SINGING?!?"  Here, they grow some extreme
balls and try and go all
Frank-Zappa-meets-Marley-meets-White-Album-meets-BONUS on us.  And to
my GREAT shock and awe, it's even sequenced well--I guess they
realized they had to do that if their fans were to sit through every
dipshit experiment they thought fit to record.  Only minus--some of
those experiments ARE indeed dipshit, and they're all concentrated
into the first half of disc ONE, weirdly enough.  Yeah, I actually
enjoy the electronic noise on side six--even "Shepherd's Delight",
which serves as a noice "conclusion bang," what with the minute-long
noise-howl at the end and all.

If nothing else, this overlong experimental monstrosity has WEIGHT and
POMP; London Calling felt more like a middleweight boxer in
comparison.  It's passionate and fiery, but still too light on its
feet for me to regard it as the greatest album of the '70's--or even
the best of 1979.  There's at least TWO double albums from that year
better than it.  First caller with the answer gets a free gift
certificate to Ted's Tattoo Parlor in Kirksville, Missouri.  AND a
whuppin'.

 

 

 

Combat Rock (1982)

Rating: 6

Best Song: “Know Your Rights”

 

            Suddenly the Clash turn into a normal band, and I don’t like it.  OK…no, I don’t quite mean that.  This is still not a normal band, and this is actually the weirdest album the Clash ever put out.  However, disregarding the music itself for a second, look at everything else.  The last time we saw the Clash, they were releasing FIVE LP’s worth of material in a year, and positively oozing enthusiasm, energy, and conviction on every track.  Now look at them.  It takes them two years to make a single album, which, although it continues the genre exploration of the last two records, has a big problem the other two don’t.  It’s BORING.  The Clash can’t be boring!  This is just a band now.  It’s not the Clash, dammit.

            OK, a lot of the first half of the record is pretty cool, I guess.  The Clash have always had a low-grade affliction of album frontloading, but they were so cool and great and energetic that it wasn’t really all that noticeable until now.  Not that it’s a U2-level problem or anything, but you can tell.  Anyway, the first half is also where some of the more “normal” stuff resides, as well as what is for my money one of the greatest opening lines in the history of opening lines.  “This is a public service announcement…WITH GUITARS!!!!!!!!!!!”  Awesome.  “Know Your Rights” is probably my favorite tune here, too, even if it’s based on one chord and has no chorus.  It’s so PROPULSIVE!  And it’s the ONLY song here that manages to provide me with some of that suddenly absent Clash energy.  The relatively normal reggae tune “Car Jamming,” which would probably fit right in on like side 5 or 6 of Sandinista! and therefore be completely unnoticed, comes next, followed by the two BOIG singles that make people who haven’t actually heard this album call it a “sell-out” because it happens to have two radio-ready hit singles on it.  Now, I’m not gonna protest the reputation of “Rock the Casbah,” but allow me to punch a few holes in that of “Should I Stay or Should I Go,” if you will.  Yes, it’s a good song.  I definitely like the song, but…come on, Joe, are you kidding?  It’s dundering and stupid and non-political and it sounds more like AC/DC (Please don’t flame me, I’m not trying to rag on AC/DC here, just a point of comparison) than the Clash.  It’s catchy and all, but, I mean, it’s really just another pretty good song, and it betrays what I think is the spirit of the Clash more than anything else on this album (Even the shit stays closer to their spirit.  It at least tries to be daring.  It just fails miserably at it).  And it’s the only song I ever hear from these guys on classic rock radio!  What the hell?  Give me “Clampdown” or “Death or Glory” or “Police on my Back” (or like ten other songs) for a Clash hard rocker.  This song saps my fucking brain cells.

            OK…now the album gets a little weird.  I mean, sellout?  HAH!  God, how retarted that is.  It’s just not that good!  But it’s definitely NOT a sellout.  “Red Angel Dragnet” is a strange little paranoid pseudo-mumbled thing that I can’t define and just leaves me confused, and “Overpowered by Funk” is cut-rate crap-funk with nerdy ‘80’s keyboard blasts!  Neither of these songs is any good, but if someone can find any commercial viability in either one, I’d love to hear their argument.  The phenomenal, moody “Straight to Hell” is a sure-fire classic, and I like me the catchy (and better than “Should I Stay or Should I Go and Write a Less Stupid Song!”) “Atom Tan” mighty fine, but fuck the rest of this shit up the ASS.  “Sean Flynn” isn’t even a song.  “Ghetto Defendant” is probably the laziest, most boring reggae thing the Clash have done, and they top it off by having Allen Ginsberg recite some poetry for no reason.  “Inoculated City” is stupid and was clearly written in roughly five minutes, but it’s probably the best of the last four songs (not that that’s much to get excited about).  “Death is a Star” is a late-nite tinkly-piano lounge jazz song for old people that bores the living shit out of me.  And that’s the album.  Only twelve songs!  Where are the other five LP’s of dub reggae instrumentals?  That’s what I’d like to know.

            I’d probably be a little less negative about this record if I had actually heard the supposed monstrosity that is Cut the Crap, but, as it is, this is EASILY the worst Clash record I’ve been able to experience.  As I mentioned before, a big problem is that the vibe is gone.  That special, indefinable something that made even the lamest two-chord punk screecher or most annoying dub remix so eminently listenable has been tossed away and forgotten.  It’s not like a band can keep up that kind of youthful energy forever, ofcourse.  I understand that.  But the drop in excitement is so sudden and so precipitous that it baffles me.  The band doesn’t even sound like they’re having fun.  After releasing FIVE LP’S OF MATERIAL IN A YEAR, maybe they were just exhausted, or had splooched out all they had to splooch.  Whatever they case may be, this record, though nice, is underwhelming, boring, and tedious.  What makes it even marginally interesting, besides the handful of real good songs, is how weird it is (because it is…it’s fucking WEIRD), but as a secondary Clash album that’s not 2 and a half hours long, I’d recommend Give ‘Em Enough Rope WELL before this one.  Poo.

 

 

 

Cut The Crap (1985)

Rating: 2

Best Song: “This Is England”

 

            Just as bad as I expected it to be.  So Topper Headon left after Combat Rock and then Mick Jones left in 1983 to form Big Audio Dynamite (never heard ‘em; can’t comment).  Joe and Paul, however, attempted to salvage what was left of their band and, in 1985, released…this, universally considered to be one of the biggest monstrosities ever foisted on the record-buying public by a formerly great band.  I will not argue with the masses.  This album is atrocious.  Comically, offensively so.  Definitely the worst album I’ve yet to review on this website, and the first for which I seriously considered giving the first 1 in the history of the site.  Yes, a 1.  That bad. 

            So, the circumstances surrounding the album.  If you go the All Music Guide and look the record up, you’ll see that all the tunes are dual-credited to “Strummer/Rhodes,” and therein lies the biggest reason that this album is so vomitessently poor.  Who is “Rhodes,” you ask?  The new guitarist, possibly?  Nope!  The producer, who took the (apparently very lo-fi and back to basics, from what I’ve heard) master tapes and, because he was a total idiot who had absolutely no idea what Clash albums are supposed to sound like, layered roughly 600 eighties cliches over each other in every single song without Joe’s consent (I think…I assume…).  So every song is filled with instantly dateable, ultra-fake sounding drum machines and horridly cheesy mid-eighties synths and lots of indeterminate *thwap* and *bwoing* noises that should make any self-respecting music listener want to surgically remove their eardrums so they don’t have to hear this fucking atrocious badness.  Why ANYONE EVER thought this kind of production sounded anywhere NEAR good is beyond me, let alone an actual record producer.  How the fuck do these people get jobs, anyway?  Horrific.  These supposedly simple punk songs are given puke-sounding mid-80’s guitar tones as well (at least the few times you can actually hear the guitar underneath all the piles of loud, unnecessary, embarrassing fakeness), and the chorus to EVERY SINGLE SONG ON THE ALBUM is sung by a chorus of about 100 people with no singing voices at all that Bernie probably pulled in off the street.  It sounds absurd.  I mean, this has to be a joke, right?  A bunch of computerized drumbeats underlining puke 80’s metal guitar, 10 overlayed squealy synths and a non-stop parade of impossibly fake-sounding *bwwwwwwwoinnggggg* sounds?  From THE FUCKING CLASH??????????  Are you kidding???  Even if the songs were good (which they’re not, ofcourse), this album would suck ass.  It’s an abomination.

            There’s only one question worth discussing on this record: is “This is England” (the only passable song here, by a MILE) good enough to warrant a 2 instead of a 1?  After one listen, that was the only question I had left, and you should be no different.  I say yes…barely.  The song is never gonna unseat my favorite songs from any other album by the band, and it doesn’t even measure up to the album tracks on the first three, but it’s certainly OK.  Definitely better than the shit half of Combat Rock, in any case, and I have a feeling you could throw it onto side 5 of Sandinista! and not too many people would notice.  The drums are still fake, the guitar sound is still horrible, and there are still a fair number of synths and generally shitty sounds of unknown origin.  But, I mean, I sense something here, behind the production shittiness.  The melody is pretty good, the bass line is rather interesting, and the song actually has some genuine tension to it instead of simply making we want to puke for four minutes.  The chorus of retards is involved, ofcourse, but not that much.  I don’t even mind the fake synth-strings Rhodes tosses in there.  They kinda fit the song, maybe, half-way…a little.  I’m not saying the song is good, but by itself I’d give it a 5 or maybe a really, really low 6.  And I’d probably give the reggae “Three Card Trick” a 4 or something, so there’s another way to avoid giving the first 1 in the history of this website.  The only other song that doesn’t strike me as one of the biggest jokes ever recorded is “Cool Under Heat,” but that’s only because the chorus o’ douches is so ridiculous I actually start laughing, and at least that’s something, right? 

That’s it, though.  Everything else here is among the worst music I’ve ever heard.  I didn’t think it was possible for a band of this stature to record something this atrocious, but I guess I should’ve learned my lesson back when I reviewed A Momentary Lapse of Reason or Sometime in New York City/Live Jam or even Dirty Work, although that last one is practically a masterpiece compared to this hunk of…well, whatever the hell this is.  “Shit” isn’t quite strong enough, no matter how many modifiers I use.  I need to go wash out my hears.  Do not listen to this record.  Don’t even think about listening to it.  Yikes.

 

 

 

Super Black Market Clash (1994)

Rating: 7

Best Song: “Pressure Drop”

 

            A really big compilation of indeterminate origin, every review for which I’ve ever come across begins by emphatically saying “NOT the expanded version of Black Market Clash, because it doesn’t have ‘Capital Radio’ or “Armagideon Time.’”  This is correct, but since both of those songs are on the Live: From Here to Eternity live compilation thingy in excellent versions, I personally don’t care all that much what’s here and what’s not.  It’s the Clash and everything comes before Mick Jones left and the band turned into a sick joke, so it’s all gonna be good anyhow.

            I’m not sure how essential this thing really is, though.  A number of songs are either instrumental tracks or rewrites of songs already familiar throughout Clashdom.  If you can tell the difference between the version of “Jail Guitar Doors” on the debut and whatever is called “Jail Guitar Doors (BMC)” here, you’re obviously a better man than me.  “Capital Radio Two” sounds no different from the live version of “Capital Radio” (or was it “Capital Radio One?”  Fuck if I remember…) that was on Live: From Here to Eternity.  The album closes with one of the rejected instrumental tracks for “Rock the Casbah,” which has more handclaps and less boogie piano than the final one they used, but that’s about the only difference between them.  If you want to hear a less annoying version of the instrumental track they used for “The Magnificent Seven” on Sandinista! without any vocals on top, we’ve got that here for you, too.  “The Cool Out” is just an alternate version of “The Call Up,” also from Sandinista!, and also without a vocal track.  The reasons the band dug through the vaults to get these things out is beyond me.  Why they took “Armagideon Time” and a few others that were on Black Market Clash off is beyond me as well.  OK, you know what?  Maybe I do care a little…

            Plenty of quality material to still be found here, ofcourse.  “1977” is a blistering rocker that can match most of their debut material, “Pressure Drop” is a wonderful, jumpy rocker with super work from Topper on the backbeat, “City of the Dead” is something I already heard on Live: From Here to Eternity, ofcourse, but it rules here anyway, “Groovy Times” features some lovely acoustic guitar work over the rocking, “1-2 Crush On You” is a super-fun old-school rock song with saxes and everything, and “Gates of the West” rocks pretty hard as well.  Just good Clash songs all around.  The second half is where the outtakes from Sandinista! start coming fast and furious, and except for the ones that are simply alternate takes on songs already on that album, I don’t mind them.  I gave Sandinista! an 8, remember?  It’s still weird, but it’s still fine.  “”Justice Tonight/Kick it Over” is especially tasty.  There’s nothing here that will take its rightful place among your favorite Clash songs of all time, and a good bit of it seems to be damn near useless, but it’s sure fun.  The Clash ruled. 

 

 

 

From Here To Eternity: Live (1999)

Rating: 9

Best Song: “Guns Of Brixton”

 

            Hey!  It’s a live album.  Let’s talk about it, because it’s really good and stuff.  As you can see from the date I’ve typed above next to the album title (as I’m wont to do), it’s an archive release, and thankfully NOT a document from a 1999 “free tapioca pudding for every 5th patron” reunion concert or something.  It’s apparently been “fixed up” a little bit in the studio as well, but I also think that was done 15-20 years ago and, again, not by the decrepit old men they had become by then (I know I said it before, but…have you SEEN Mick Jones lately?  Blech).  But I don’t really give that much of a crap about how “not live” a live album is, especially if it’s an archive live compilation release.  One specific concert, I have more problems with.  But the great thing about this one is it sort of manages to be both!  The performances are culled from all over the place, but the songs themselves are arranged in chronological order, so it almost ends up being like a live best-of career retrospective thingy.  And it’s also, like, really good and stuff.

            There’s not much I can say about this thing, since it’s a live album and I’ve already talked about most of the songs, apart a few debut-era B-side thingies (“Capital Radio” and “City of the Dead”) and a London Calling-era hardcore reggae tune called “Armagideon Time” where Joe Strummer just takes a break and lets 5th Clash member Mikey Dread sing everything.  The record is pretty much evenly split between stuff from the debut album era (U.S. version, so if you just have the U.K. version this is actually a GREAT way to get some of the essential tunes you missed) and London Calling-onward material (nothing from Give ‘Em Enough Rope, though.  ASSHOLES!), so it almost feels like there’s an intermission or something between “I Fought the Law” and “London Calling.”  It’s great!  The song selection (except for a few duds, like “What’s My Name” and “The Magnificent Seven,” which is the only song from Sandinista!, even though there are about 20-25 better ones on that thing.  Grab a bunch of women from the audience and let them sing “Hitsville U.K.!”  That’d be fun!) is very strong, with all the requisite classics in place, from “(White Man) in Hammersmith Palais” and “Clash City Rockers” to “Train in Vain” and “Know Your Rights” and most everything in between.  No “Rock the Casbah,” though.  And the lack of tunes from London Calling kinda annoys me (Only THREE!  Ofcourse, if they just played the whole damn album straight through that still might not be enough for me).  But the song selection only gets minor complaints.

            And the playing!  The Clash, as I’ve said numerous times, are not Led Zeppelin.  But in terms of sheer force and conviction, on a good day, not too many acts can beat them, and that’s what you get listening to this thing.  They play with so much intensity.  It’s palpable, even on a live compilation released 20 years after most of these performances were recorded.  Especially on the later-era tracks, some of the intricacies of the studio versions are lost, but that’s more than made up for by the amount of effort these guys put into their performances.  So “Guns of Brixton” loses the cool studio headphone tricks that made the song so interesting.  And so Paul Simonon can’t sing for bullshit, and ends up sort of shouting most of the lyrics.  So what!  The performance is PHENOMENAL!  My favorite one here.  And the seven-minute of version of “Straight to Hell” at the end is eons better than the studio version (which was one of my favorite songs on Combat Rock, lest you forget.  That says more about Combat Rock than this album here, though).  See, you don’t need blistering musical pyrotechnics to be a great live band.  You just need the right attitude.  And here’s the proof.  Although great songs don’t hurt, ofcourse.

            No, I’m done with the review now.  I have fucking work to do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This here music cause a sensation!