1.
London Calling The Clash This album could not have come
at a more perfect time or from a more appropriate band than the
Clash. Released stateside in January 1980, with the decade but a
pup and the new year in gear, London Calling was an
emergency broadcast from rock's Last Angry Band, serving notice
that Armageddon was nigh, western society was rotten at the core,
and rock & roll needed a good boot in the rear. Kicking and
screaming across a nineteen-song double album, skidding between
ska, reggae, R&B, third-world music, power pop and full-tilt
punk, the Clash stormed the gates of rock convention and
single-handedly set the agenda - musically, politically and
emotionally - for the decade to come.
The band had already chalked up two
masterpieces of petulant punk fury with The Clash (its
1977 debut) and Give 'Em Enough Rope. But this time
singer-guitarist-songwriters Joe Strummer and Mick Jones
fine-tuned the Clash worldview with a deeper sensitivity,
addressing issues by zooming in on individuals and hard realties.
While the LP's cosmopolitan sound anticipated the world-music
fad, its message - revolution begins at home - triggered the
reemergence of pop's social consciousness in the Eighties.
For Strummer, Jones, bassist Paul
Simonon and drummer Nicky "Topper" Headon, home was
London, where they rehearsed and recorded the bulk of the LP
during the late spring and summer of 1979 and where there was
ample evidence of impending apocalypse (racial tension, rising
unemployment, rampant drug addiction). Strummer's catalog of
disasters in the title track, scored with Jones's guitar
firepower, sets the tone for the record. But that fear and
urgency was also very real for the band, which had just split
with manager Bernie Rhodes, was heavily in debt and had declared
open warfare on the music business.
"I remember that things were
so up in the air, and there was quite a good feeling of us
against the world," says Strummer. "We felt that we
were struggling, about to slide down a slope or something,
grasping with our fingernails. And that there was nobody to help
us."
Isolation and desperation are
recurring themes on London Calling. The Phil Spector-like
glow of "The Card Cheat" belies its lyric pathos, while
"Hateful" looks at drug addiction from an addict's
point of view ("I'm so grateful to be nowhere").
"There was a sense that life really is a succession of heavy
blows," says Jones, "that this is what we have to take
day to day." Indeed, "Lost in the Supermarket," a
dark slice of peppy Euro-pop, is based on Jones's personal life
at the time. "I was living in a council flat with my
grandmother," he says. "I couldn't get settled. I was
supposed to be this rock star, but I was living with my
grandmother." Jones and Strummer wrote a lot of songs in his
grandmother's flat before Jones eventually moved out.
The album also had the fighting
spirit to spare in the likes of "Clampdown" ("Let
fury have the hour, anger can be power") and "The Guns
of Brixton." a Paul Simonon song that combines images of the
racially tense Brixton area of London with the outlaw ethic of The
Harder they Come. "Spanish Bombs," initially
inspired by a radio news report of a terrorist bombing in the
Mediterranean, evokes the rebellious spirit of the Spanish Civil
War.
London Calling became a
double album simply because of the energetic rate at which
Strummer and Jones were writing songs. "Joe, once he learned
how to type, would bang the lyrics out at a high rate of good
stuff," says Jones. "Then, I'd be able to bang out some
music while he was hitting the typewriter." The members of
the Clash devoted nearly three months to arranging and demoing
the material at their rehearsal space, a garage in London's
Pimlico section, before going into the studio. They added a few
choice covers that reflected their widening field of musical
vision, such as "Brand New Cadillac," by the British
rockabilly legend Vince Taylor, and "Wrong 'Em Boyo," a
"Stagger Lee" takeoff by a Jamaican ska group, the
Rulers.
The Clash found the perfect
producer in Guy Stevens, a kindred renegade spirit with
impeccable credentials (he ran the U.K branch of Sue Records in
the Sixties) and an intuitive, if lunatic, genius for getting the
essence of rock & roll on record. His protégés
included Free and Mott the Hoople, and he'd prduced the Clash's
first demos in 1976. He'd fallen from grace in the industry, but
the Clash felt he was just the madman to do the job.
"We sensed it was a good way
to keep it on the beam, keep our feet on the ground,"
Strummer says. "I think something dies in the music when
everything is so straitlaced, with accountants monitoring every
move."
There was nothing strait-laced
about Steven's methods, which included pouring beer into a piano
when the band wanted to use it on a song over his objections and
slinging chairs around "if he thought a track needed zapping
up," according to Strummer. Stevens nearly hit Jones with a
ladder during one take.
But Jones says Stevens - who had
since died - was a "real vibe merchant" and was
"exhorting us to make it more, to increase the
intensity, to lay the energy on." Stevens had good musical
instincts, too. the version of "Brand New Cadillac" on
the LP is actually a warm-up take. "We said, 'Okay, now
we'll do it proper,'" says Topper Headon. "And he
said,'No, it's great, let's keep it.' But we said, 'Hand on a
minute, it speeds up.' And he said, 'All rock speeds up.' And
that was it."
The Clash quickly got into the
spirit of things. The crackling at the beginning of "The
Guns of Brixton" is not fire but the sound of the band
members tearing Velcro strips off leather swivel chairs swiped
from the control room. "Train In Vain," the album's
surprise hit, was recorded so late in the sessions that there
wasn't time to include it on the cover or label copy. And there
is no train in the song, either. "The track was like a train
rhythm," says Jones, who wrote most of it, " and it
was, once again, that feeling of being lost. So there it
was."
Strangely, the Clash was slagged at
home for softening up and selling out the mainstream American
tastes. "When I read that, the notion was so new to me I
just laughed," Strummer says. "In that dirty room in
Pimlico, with one light and filthy carpet on the walls for
soundproofing, that had been the furthest thought from our
minds." He also remebers the distress of one German
skinhead, who cried, "My grandmother likes 'Wrong 'Em Boyo.'
What have you done to me?" Strummer says, "I remember
thinking, 'Is he right? Maybe we should have offended her
more.'"
In fact, the Clash was simply
showing its punk constituency, and the pop world at large, that
there was more than one way to rock the house. The cover design
of London Calling, a takeoff on Elvis Presley's first
album with a photo of Paul Simonon destroying his bass onstage in
New York, says it all: This is an album of classic rock &
roll values with renewed spirit for a new age.
2. Purple Rain Prince
3. The Joshua Tree U2
4. Remain In Light Talking Heads
5. Graceland Paul Simon
6. Born In The U.S.A. Bruce Springsteen
7. Thriller Michael Jackson
8. Murmur R.E.M.
9. Shoot Out The Lights Richard and Linda Thompson
10. Tracy Chapman Tracy Chapman
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