Cut the Crap
The Clash
Epic

This is Big Audio Dynamite
Big Audio Dynamite
Columbia

Unknown Source 1985

By Ted Drozdowski

Poor Mick Jones, chased from The Clash like a hapless Frankenstein's monster; indignant global villager Joe Strummer at his heels hurling epithets and brandishing the torch of righteousness. Ugly incidents like that are bound to leave scars. But after two years of retaliation and reformation, Strummer's Clash and Jones' new band, Big Audio Dynamite are makin' noise on vinyl.

Despite B.A.D.'s explosive moniker, The Clash's Cut The Crap packs a bigger bang. It's rough, raw, three-chord rock with plenty of punk's promise, but, alas, insufficient delivery, All gut punches. No sneaky lefts or sharp jabs that really connect with your temple and set your brain spinning. God knows Strummer tries. His "Dictator," a wild swing at El Salvador's Duarte regime, might be brilliant if not for the incessant radio chatter and blathering horns that make half its lyrics indecipherable. For that matter, most of joltin' Joe's vocals sound as if they were recorded in a garage - a romantic notion, but no way to get ideas across. And, love 'em or not, The Clash has always been a band of ideas. Otherwise Jones would never have been banished for being "ideologically incorrect."

Another gripe: Why, oh why, does every chorus have to be shouted by all five Clashmates? It's probably got something to do with Strummer's good-as-gold populist underpinnings, but after a half-dozen songs it's just plain goofy and more martial than musical. It's also a sign that Jones was probably an effective restraint on Strummer's china shop bull instincts. Still, there's some great rock and roll here, the kind that mother used to make back in '77 when punk was fresh, eager and ready to change the world - or at least galvanize everyone who's ever hated authority. Check out the sweaty, bare knuckled guitar and gob-in-yer-eye spirit of "Dirty Punk" or "Movers And Shakers," if you're willing to overlook the latter's loopy horns.

Not much evidence of rockin' on Big Audio Dynamite's debut, although it's heart and head are in the right place Almost all the action's in the lyrics: wry rhymes over high-gloss rap, reggae and dance rid-dims. Jones gets his licks in occasionally and former video director Don Lefts is a wiz with tape edits, inserting film dialogue and playing aural three-card monte. But it's bassist Leo Williams and drummer Greg Roberts who keep B.A.D.'s fuse smoldering, laying the foundation for its silly/serious storytelling.

On the sober side, there's "A Party," which raps apartheid Rasta styley, and "The Bottom Line," aimed at getting the economically sucker-punched - who really can't afford the $8.98 list for either of these albums or the double digit ticket tags charged to see the bands - enough hope to yank their own bootstraps.

The silly stuff hits on paranoia, culture shock and shifting sexual mores, amounting to good smart fun. Yet B.A.D. never stops making sense, so the belly punches that sometimes make the Clash's ragged rock feel so passionately right never come. However, Jones' clarity, studio smarts and songwriting slant make it obvious that Strummer's monster isn't such a bad guy after all.

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