Via CHARTattack, Joe Strummer’s 1997 take on Bruce Springsteen:

• Bjork com Guomundar Ingolfssonar Trio – Litli Tonlistarmadurinn,
• Joe Strummer And The Mescaleros – All In A Day,
• Frank Black – White noise maker,
• Edwyn Collins – A girl like you,
• Galaxie 500 – Strange,
• The Glove – Looking Glass Girl,
• Royksopp – What else is there,
• Empire of the Sun – We are the people,
• Space com Cerys Matthews – The Ballad of Tom Jones,
• Itamar Assumpção com Tetê Espíndola – Adeus Pantanal,
• Pizzicato Five – Sweet Soul Revue,
• Bobby Fuller Four – I Fought the law,
• Emmanuel Jal com Abdel Gadir Sali – Blood Diamond.

Do shameless appeals to pop media commodities boost internet traffic?

El London Calling sin duda es uno de esos discos que la escena musical tanto como la crítica musical suele considerarlo como uno de los mejores álbumes de la historia del rock ^]de hecho la revista Rolling Stone lo calificó como el mejor de los años 80 y como el octavo mejor de la historia.

Lo importante de este disco fue la manera de su contenido estilístico musical del álbum era muy variado incluyendo el punk lúgubre (“London Calling”), el blues (“Brand New Cadillac”), el ska (“Wrong ‘em Boyo”), la música disco (“Lost in the Supermarket”), el reggae (“The Guns of Brixton”) y el rockabilly (“Rudie Can’t Fail”).

En cuanto a las letras, el contenido político y la crítica social se encuentran presentes como en todos los materiales de la banda. Particularmente, las canciones que más claramente explicitan la temática política son “London Calling”, “The Guns of Brixton”. Aunque se creía que “Spanish Bombs” rendía homenaje a los revolucionarios y luchadores de la libertad que combatieron en la Guerra Civil Española y los efectos que tuvo ésta en Andalucía criterios posteriores y opiniones de la banda sugieren que está pensada en homenaje a los pechos de las Andaluzas. Otros temas abordados en el álbum son la soledad consecuente al uso de las drogas (“Hateful”), el materialismo (“Lost in the Supermarket”), el fascismo (“Clampdown”) y la vida de Montgomey Clift (“The Right Profile”).

Para festejar su 30 aniversario a partir del 14 de diciembre que es la misma fecha que salio la primer versión del álbum, se puede encontrar la 30th Anniversary Edition, con el documental The last testament.

Il paese di Tonara (NU) dedica una via a Joe Strummer. La cosa parte da un blog “locale” che dimostra che c’è ancora speranza.

da emmebi.

he may have been our only decent teacher. He truly was one of my greatest teachers. I don’t think anybody represents a true punk rock icon like Joe Strummer of The Clash did. He represents everything that can be right about music. His politics, talent and soul was an asset to the world. I still get chills every time London Calling is played. The Clash were the only band that ever mattered and I feel they influence has been lost on my generation. They challenged people’s beliefs and strived to make this world a better place. Joe was one of the first people to really bring reggae to England and was willing to experiment with every type of music on this planet. Even after his post Clash years with Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros he was still producing insanely talented and genius music. My only wish was that I could have seen and met him in person. I would have loved to pick his brains because the world will never produce anybody like him again.

The importance of engagement, as said by one of the greatest rockingest songwriters and musicians to ever walk this earth. Joe Strummer knew what he was talking about, we can all learn a lot from this simple one minute speech. Enjoy.

Andy Warhol and The Clash say hello outside Shea Stadium, 1982
By Bob Gruen

In today’s edition of The Sun, Jane Moore argues that Morrissey was wrong to walk out of his concert in Liverpool last weekend. He had started the gig and was on to the second song when a bottle, thrown by an audience member, hit him in the face.

Morrissey walked off and never came back to complete the concert.

Moore claims that ‘in her day’ the Sex Pistols actively encouraged missiles, and when she once saw The Damned you could see saliva dripping from the face of Dave Vanian – and it was not his own saliva. Clearly Moore is a punk aficionado and believes that the artist should accept whatever the audience (literally) throws at them. She claims Morrissey protests too much.

But is it really acceptable anymore for an audience to behave like this?

Back in the days that Jane Moore talks about, Joe Strummer ended up with hepatitis after a fan gobbed in his face. Is that really the kind of concert atmosphere we should look on with rose-tinted glasses?

I remember once seeing Buzzcocks and witnessing a beer can narrowly missing the face of singer Pete Shelley. He stopped playing for a moment and asked everyone in the crowd who was thinking about throwing something at the band to ‘do it now so we get it over with’… hundreds, maybe thousands, of missiles suddenly rained upon the stage. Then the gig carried on… and there were no more beer cans lobbed at the band.

Because, in practical and rather obvious terms, it’s dangerous. The artist is usually facing lights and can’t see missiles as they approach. The crowd has an unfair advantage in targeting a singer on stage half-blinded by a number of spotlights. Most venues these days prevent glass from being brought inside or purchased, but a plastic beer bottle that’s mostly full weighs about half a kilo. Try getting someone to throw a half kilo weight at your face and see if it’s a laughing matter.

Add to that the fact that a concert stage is jammed full of electrical equipment and wires. It’s no fun for the roadies and engineers to try breaking up the show when all their equipment is covered in beer, water, and whatever else… and it may even be positively shocking. For a band lower down the food chain than Morrissey, that may be the only amplifier they can afford and to have someone chucking a pint of lager on it could be a financial disaster that messes up their next gig.

I understand Jane Moore’s sentiment, but I don’t think she has really thought it through. Or maybe she is commenting as someone who used to attend concerts and has not been to a gig in decades, so it would never affect her anyway.

Can we have a time-out or a do-over? I don’t really need an apology for the Pussycat Dolls. I just want the music industry to regain its innovation, its verve, its oomph. I’d like to listen to the radio and not be so irritated that I want to pummel it and any other nearby appliances.

Music has become homogenized and stagnant, a product of the same stale ingredients. Abroad, many American artists break into the foreign markets and command a healthy following. Stateside, practically nil is heard of the thousands of international artists that make up the global pulse.

Now, when that diversity, that breath of fresh air, is more vital than ever, we keep the music narrow.

…

My best professors of hope were in the ghettos of South America or Africa. These guys are in a situation 10,000 times worse than mine, or than other first-world individuals, but they got more hope than anybody. When you are in a ghetto of South America, you cannot afford depression. You have your children to feed everyday. So you have to go out on the street to feed your children. There is no time for depression. So, hope.

Paris-born and of Spanish descent, Manu Chao is arguably the best-known world music artist this side of the Milky Way.

He is a restless troubadour rarely in one city long enough to visit all of his friends. He sings in French, Spanish, Galician, Portuguese, Italian, Arabic, English and Wolof. He weaves sound bytes from Subcomandante Marcos into his music, indicative of his longtime support for the Zapatistas in Chiapas, Mexico.

During his stint with the multi-cultural and highly popular Mano Negra, he toured South America by both cargo ship and train, performing on each conveyance to audiences of campesinos and guerrillas.

He still busks in Barcelona, doesn’t own a cell phone, and brushes off industry temptations to sell his songs off for Nike commercials or to crash late night after-parties with Kanye West.

Manu is a star by not giving a shit about stardom. He took his cues from the best.

‘Every time I met any of my heroes I was disappointed – the exception was [The Clash's] Joe Strummer, who was like an uncle to me. The last time I saw him was at a festival in Japan, sleeping out in the woods, jamming by a fire and putting on little tapes he’d made to keep the atmosphere going.’

‘Joe absolutely adored Manu’s music and was a friend,’ says Strummer’s widow, Lucinda. ‘I met him once with Joe at the Shepherds Bush Empire, in 2002, and there was lots of excitement when Joe turned up before the gig – attempting to speak to Manu in his broken Spanish.’ (Full article here.)

A product of an immigrant community, Manu grew up listening to a mishmash of musical styles. Blending Latin, punk, rockabilly, ska, folk, pop, reggae, African, jazz, rap and flamenco music came naturally for a guy who also shifts between languages on each song.

His unique musical leanings have dispatched him to everywhere from Tijuana to Bamako, and as he traveled, he became angry. Angry about the poverty and the injustices, the lack of action by the governments, the senseless suffering. But he transforms that anger into something positive. In Manu’s mind, it’s too easy to become a nihilist or a cynic. Optimism is what the people need.

…

I knew about activism prior to becoming a fan. I rallied around Amnesty International as a teenager. I sneered at American extravagance out of concern for the world’s poor. I wrote to my congressmen. I wore the t-shirts and bought the bumper stickers.

But increasingly the crusade felt empty. Without learning more about the world at large, I couldn’t fully understand the cause. I’d remain nothing more than a misguided radical.

Manu Chao filled that void in my life. This diminutive man with the messy hair and rumpled clothing reported the lessons of his travels – stories from the disenfranchised, the underprivileged, and the silenced – through masterfully crafted ditties of protest and hope.

This call-up is a responsibility that Manu doesn’t take lightly. He knows his fame connects him to the ears of millions. But he also knows that his public role means he must speak for those who cannot. He must make his time at the mic count.

Injustice. War. Heartbreak. Boogey Men. Immigration. Soccer stars. Environment. Prostitutes. Globalization. Tolerance. Revolution. Peace.

Manu Chao concert crowds are mini-U.N. assemblies, swarms of people from various ethnic groups chanting, cheering, jumping, dancing barefoot, and waving their respective national flags.

It doesn’t matter that only alternating sections of the crowd understand the words of any given song at any given time. They understand the energy. They understand that despite our differences or allegiances the music shrinks the space between us. The music equalizes our human distortions.

You won’t likely find a moderate Manu Chao fan. You either run into people who have never heard of him, or you run into Manu Chao disciples gleaming with loyalty so intense the total wattage could power all of the favelas in his beloved Rio de Janeiro.

He challenges us to wake up, to participate in the world, to see the horizon past our neatly trimmed lawns or favorite radio station.

…

We have tightened our national borders so much it’s easy to forget that music or life or anything exists outside of our “Party in the USA” borders.

It’s easy to forget that residents in far off places also share our journey. They also love until it hurts, laugh at a good prank, ache for a hungry child, fuck up relationships, want a chance to be heard, and enjoy a good backbeat.

Perhaps we should TiVo ourselves for a change and tune in to the regularly scheduled broadcasts of Anywhere But Here.

Perhaps we should widen our aperture, tear down all barriers, physical or otherwise, and take a hard look into the eyes of others without our nationalistic filters.

Perhaps we should listen to Manu Chao.

This question, they ask me very often: can music change the world? It can help. But it’s not a question only of musicians. Now the situation is so bad, we need musicians, we need taxi drivers, we need fishermen, we need students, we need the workers. We need everybody. We need all of society; we don’t only need the musicians. That’s not enough.

…

Bixo/El Dorado:
(Hybrid of Portuguese/Basque slang set to Latin trumpets)

•

Ronde De Nuit:
(French punk)

•

Me Llaman Calle:
(Spanish with flamenco guitars)

•

Santa Maradona:
(French rap/metal)

•

Peligro:
(Spanish reggae)

•

A Cosa:
(Italian/French/Spanish folk)

•

Denia:
(Arabic and French folk)

•

Señor Matanza:
(Spanish reggaeton/dance)

•

M’Bife Blues (w/Amadou & Mariam)
(Wolof/French blues…and beautiful)

September 30th, 2009

They say you should never meet your heroes.

Sound advice.

Unless they happen to be firemen.

To be honest, I never actually thought it was a given. And anyway I know from experience it’s not; because <brag alert> Joe Strummer was the perfect gent.

Anyway, last weekend I found myself at a gig I’d been looking forward to all year – Gang Of Four at The Forum in KentishTown. The reason it was so anticipated was that I had been promised to be put on the door months ago, as my girlfriend is mates with the manager / promoter there (thanks Dan, I owe you several beers at this stage).

Dan had already sorted me and Naomi with a couple of really cool festival tickets over the summer, but I’d not yet been to The Forum this year (I did see Living Color there about eight years ago).

I had been eyeballing the Gang Of Four show since about March; and the fact it was the 30^th anniversary of their debut Entertainment! (stone cold classic – GET IT NOW), I was excited to say the least.

Just to put in context how much this band (who released their first album the same year I was born, bear in mind) means to me, here’s a little rock and roll history.

Obviously I wasn’t around for the original release; but for a band of their time, they’re probably the single biggest influence on the group who’s album became the reason I picked up a bass in the first place.

That reason was Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Blood Sugar Sex Magik.

That album blew my head open. It introduced me not just to the force of nature that is the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but also to Rick Rubin’s career-high producing Midas touch (which still continues to this day) and the sublime talents of engineer / mixer Brendan O’Brien – another superlative producer in his own right.

The songs, the incredible performances and personalities coupled with the Zeppelin-esque recording process, all resulted in my favourite album of all time and a determination that I wanted to play music until I die.

“How does this relate to Gang Of Four?” I hear you yawn.

Well, Flea in particular, has said the original sound of the Chili Peppers was primarily influenced by Leeds’ punk-funk rogues. So much so that they got Gang Of Four axe-man, Andy Gill, to produce their first album.

Without wanting to put too fine a point on it – he made a bollocks of that album.

To be fair, it was never going to be Blood Sugar Sex Magik; but it could have easily been an underground classic.

There were a few factors involved also – last minute line up changes, the band’s inexperience, personality clashes etc.

Gill’s assertion that he “didn’t know what (he) was doing” on the Gang Of Four’s earlier albums probably didn’t lift the bands confidence either. One story, that the band left a pizza box (with a shit in it) on the mixing desk, speaks volumes.

“Typical.” was Gill’s only response to the incident, apparently.

So, based on this evidence, I have only myself to blame that I did not heed to the potential perils of hero contact.

The fact that the hero I approached on this occasion was also Andy Gill, gives me the distinct impression that I have all the foresight of a Darwin Award winner.

The after show exchange went something like this….

“Hey Andy. Sorry to bother you. Amazing gig. Thanks so much.”

“Are you Jurgen?”

“Erm, no…”

“What’s your name?”

“Niall.”

“Sorry, what?  Jurgen..?”

“Uh, no, it’s Niall.”

What followed was Gill (the man whom I called a legend, from the crowd, not half an hour previous) silently turning his back and offering me the limpest, lamest, reverse reach-around handshake in the history of uncomfortablism.

Maybe if I had introduced myself by my nickname (“Disko..? Really..?”), or indeed pretended to be this Jurgen individual, my interaction may have lasted more than five seconds.

Or maybe Andy Gill is just an uppity rude fuckwit.

Naomi and my now deflated self  left soon after – but not before I launched into an expletive ridden tirade as to why the original rhythm section were absent from the current line-up (my reasoning mostly centered around Andy Gill’s fuckwit credentials, as I’m sure you can imagine).

God bless Naomi and her powers of rant absorption.

And thank god I hadn’t directed it at Gill himself.

To be honest, as I (soberly) write this, it’s not really as soul crushing as I had worked it up to be on the night. I think what stung was the sudden gear shift from elated post-gig booze brain to an abrupt, uninterested dismissing.

In fact, I now feel a little guilty about the Mark Chapman death-stare (and wink for some reason, according to Naomi) I threw him as I left the place.

Andy, if you’re reading this – don’t worry; I still love ya, soda pop.

But you’re no Joe Strummer, buddy.

Disko

X

Epilogue :

The next morning I found myself (still pissed) in the Italian deli next door to Naomi’s place.

She had very considerately woken me at half nine to go get a couple of paninis.

As I swayed bleary-eyed at the counter, I turned around and saw Channel Four News’ Jon Snow enter for a Sunday morning coffee with his paper (presumably just to make sure  other journalists are still not as badass as himself).

Thoughts of the universe balancing out the bad karma visited upon me the night before swam round my brain; vying for position amongst slightly less  celestial concerns about whether to get a Milka Bar on the way home.

“If there’s anyone in the world who’d love a slurred declaration of admiration at a quarter to ten on a Sunday morning -  it’s TV’s Jon Snow!”, I reasoned to myself.

Thankfully, at this point my inner Lilac Milka Cow looked up wearily from its grazing and mooed :

“Go back to bed, gobshite.”
Soundtrack : Grand Pappy Du Plenty – Red Hot Chili Peppers

SEXY MEN OF ROCK AND ROLL

I’m convinced that if I was born 30 years earlier, I would have been a groupie.  And if I was, these are the men I would have had my eye on, both for their careless good looks and god-like talent.

1. David Gilmour – There are no words. This is my definition of a rock god.

2. Jim Morrison – He may have been a little bit crazy, but I want to hear him recite poetry and run my fingers through that hair.

3. Jimi Hendrix: Aww, look at those dimples! And it doesn’t hurt that he’s pretty much the best guitar player ever.

4. David Bowie – I don’t care that he looks like a woman sometimes. His voice is like velvet and I adore him.

5. Roger Daltrey – There’s no harder, hotter body in rock and roll and he’s got a sweet set of…lungs.

6. Ted Nugent – He’s a redneck, yes and this photo also makes him look like a douche-bag, but the The Nuge can play guitar and he’s hot. 

7. Joe Strummer – His eyes are sad and beautiful and he has one of those  faces that I just want to take in my hands, and stare at.

 8. Marvin Gaye  - He’s not a rock star per say, but look how adorable he is! And I’d probably pass out if I’d ever heard him sing in person.

9. Frank Zappa – Strange choice I know, but Zappa is weirdly interesting and watching him shred shirtless is pretty amazing. 

10. Billy Idol –  Perhaps the most cliche rock star on the list, but you can’t deny his hotness.

jeg sitter og ser “the Banger Sisters” med mamma, og kan ikke la være å tenke at jeg blei fødd i feil tiår. vi tror ikke på noe lenger, på 60/70 tallet trodde ungdommen at de kunne redde verden. nå tror vi ikke det lenger. da var det Jim Morrison, Zappa og Joe Strummer, nå er det Britney, Rihanna og Lady Gaga. jeg får lyst å dø. hva skjedde med sex, drugs and rock´n roll? nå er det bare aids, crack og techno…
<3
i am watching “the banger sisters” with my mum, and i can´t stop thinking that i was born in the wrong decade. because we stopped believing, during the 60/70´s people my age believed that they could save the world. we don´t believe that anymore. then it was Jim Morrison, Frank Zappa and Joe Strummer, now it is Britney, Rihanna and Lady Gaga. it makes me want to die. whatever happened to sex, drugs and rock´n roll? now it is only aids, crack and techno…

rest in peace lizard king… your life mattered, your music mattered, you still matter… <3

THIS is the batch of CDs played this week, along with some Falco via the magic of Spotify.

Sorti le 14 décembre 1979 au Royaume-Uni, l’album “London Calling” des Clash deviendra vite une référence dans la culture rock. Il se classe 8ème dans le classement des meilleurs albums de tous les temps établi par le magazine Rolling Stone.

La réédition de l’album, qui comportera sûrement en bonus un dvd ainsi qu’un livret contenant les paroles, est prévu pour le 14 décembre 2009.

Source : Rolling Stone

1. Já proferi, com valor de verdade, as seguintes sentenças: Aprendi Inglês com Bob Dylan (1995); Aprendi Inglês por causa de Bob Dylan (2006); I’ve started to learn English with Bob Dylan, trying to translate his lyrics (1989).

2. No meio de uma conversa, com propósito de azaração, por volta de 1991, proferi a seguinte frase: Não, que nada, nunca gostei de Sex Pistols não, sempre achei chato pra caralho. Bom é Clash, punk é The Clash, London Calling, ali sim. Azaração foi mal-sucedida.

3. “Comprei” esse disco como parte de meu “salário” enquanto trabalhava na Kaya, por volta de 1988.

The Clash in Belfast, 1977, following their cancelled gig (apparently due to a death threat against Joe Strummer)

“At first, the band were reluctant to have their photo taken anywhere near the soldiers. ‘They’ll think we’re here to entertain the troops,’ said Strummer. They all felt that they didn’t know enough about the political situation. They learned fast.”
- From Caroline Coon’s eye-witness report in Sounds October 1977

RACHID TAHA, an Algerian-born, Lyon-raised ‘French’ singer songwriter has written (and rewritten) some of the most vital songs of the last 30 years.
As the leader of the band Carte de Séjour in the 1980s he helped pave the way for a new conception of French music, breaking down the barriers between rock music and those of the immigrant French and traditional music of France. The band’s name referenced the residency card most immigrants were required to have in France.
The band, which eventually split in 1989/1990, was best known for its ironic reworking of the Charles Trenet chanson/ song Douce France a version which raised questions about the status of the North African immigrant French and their status in a France that was witnessing the rise of the Le Pen-led Front Nationale.
But it was after the split with Carte de Séjour that Taha would go on to become the great star of what is rather patronisingly called ‘world’ music. He comes out of the tradition of Rai singing and his fusing of the North African and arabic world with everything from punk to dance, to rock to techno has seen him become a hero in his adoptive home and throughout the Arabic disapora.
Through the 1990’s his relationship with British producer Steve Hillage saw him produce some excellent music, the albums Olé Olé, Barbès, Rachid Taha, Made in Medina and the single Voilà, Voilà which appears on the brilliant 1997 album Carte Blanche on the cover of which he looks uncannily like Joe Strummer cira-London Calling.
The Clash link is important to the understanding of Taha because much of his music treads the punky esoteric line of the British band’s Sandinista album. Taha met the Clash before a 1981 show in the Paris theatre, the Mogador which has become legendary in the country – French music’s equivalent of the Pistols at the Free Trade Hall.
Taha is an awkward, radical punk at heart, a champion of the underdog and a natural heir to his great hero Strummer. This Socialist Worker interview sums it up.
Taha and Strummer never met again, but there were plans afoot for them to get together at the time of Strummer’s untimely death nearly seven years ago. Taha’s real overground breakthrough would be his Arabic cover Rock El Casbah (from Tékitoi) which appeared in the Strummer documentary The Future is Unwritten.
Taha’s real breakthrough album in the English speaking world came with 1998’s ‘Diwan’ which featured a trio of his calling card songs, Ya Rayah, Habina and Menfi.

He has gone on to make great albums in the 2000s, Tékitoi, Diwan 2 which is perhaps the greatest example of Rai music committed to vinyl/ CD/ digital format. He also released the tremendous best of Rachid Taha: The Definitive Collection which contains a bonus disc beautiful 30 minute documentary following Taha back to Algeria produced and presented by Andy Kershaw – his strongest advocate in the British music media.
His new album Bonjour was reviewed today in the posh papers, we’ll reserve judgement before we review it at GM.
FOLLOW FRIDAY 10 on Spotify

Till veckans låt

They say love can move a mountain.

‘Sink or Swim’ is the 2007 debut album from New Jersey rockers The Gaslight Anthem.

During a recent roundtable podcast discussion, a friend laid down the argument for this album as his choice for the best album of the past ten years. A bold statement that I argued right off the bat, the only flaw to my rebuff was that I had never actually heard the album… I just like a good argument.

Intrigued as I was, I decided to give it a listen (in secret).

SIDE A

Right of the block the pace is set for the rest of the album. Good catchy rifts, with driving guitars, tight drums

It doesn’t take long to win me over. The second track I coul’da been a contender, is an absolute gem. Atmospheric with its rocking chorus and a perfect display of ’smokey’ vocals, reminiscent of my favourite band Lucero, from frontman Brian Fallon.

The album does not let up here, as the album carries through the energy that it has created. Wooderson is another fast tempo song that builds until its climatic harmonic release in the outro. This emotion building song structure is mirrored in the foot stomping ode to mythical love-interest Mary in 1930.

By the sixth track, The Navesink Banks, we get out first breather. It is the first of two acoustic tracks, both of which emphasise the true warmth of the smokey country-music vocal stylings of the band. Its a much needed breather as a lot of energy is expended in the first half of the album. In honesty, the song pales in comparison to the closing song of the album Red at Night.

SIDE B

It’s hard to say that the second half of the album doesn’t match up to the first as it contains two of my favourite tracks off the album. But this surely is a credit to the consistency of the album, that one song doesn’t meet their own impeccable standards set in the first 6 songs. The tribute to The Clash’s songwriter, Joe Strummer, I woul’da called you Woody, Joe and Drive are excellent tracks in their own right.

As mentioned previously, the album finishes with a cracking acoustic track. As folk-country as they come, it is a great ‘come down’ track after the intensity of the album.

Summary

A lot is written about the influences of this record. The not-so well hidden homage to the brilliant Joe Strummer, and the smokey-rock path blazed by Springsteen, are just two that are worth a mention. But what is particularly astounding about this album is that this is their debut release.

In a world where listening to music is completely selective, due to MP3 and pay-per-track downloads, it is a pleasure to hear an album that you are content to put 40minutes out of your day to listen to it in its entirety.

The Verdict

Although I am not completely sold on ‘Sink or Swim’ being the best album of the last 10 years, it is however (at very least) a brilliant standout record. If someone were to tell me that it wasn’t, I would defend it to the hilt.

out.

Nuevo enfrentamiento entre una canción original y sus versiones. Esta vez hemos elegido una de Los Clash, Train In Vain (Stand By Me), que fue publicada en 1980 en su mítico disco London Calling.  La compusieron una noche y al día siguiente la grabaron. La incluyeron en el álbum pero como pista oculta. La letra curiosamente no menciona en ningún momento el título,  pero sí su subtítulo Stand By Me. En una de mis películas favoritas, Alta Fidelidad, basada en el libro de Nick Hornby, suena de fondo mientras John Cusack intenta asimilar que su chica le ha dejado (ver video). Aquí tenéis a Joe Strummer, Mick Jones, Paul Simonon y Topper Headon en acción. Esto es una banda encima de un escenario:

En 1999 la banda de Gales Manic Street Preachers hizo una versión bastante fiel al sonido inicial aunque con la característica guitarra de James Dean Bradfield. Se editó como cara B de su single You Stole The Sun From My Heart. Así suena de bien en directo:

La integrante de Eurythmics, Annie Lennox, aportó un toque muy diferente a la canción, haciendo una versión entre el soul y el pop cuyo resultado es también brillante. Y es que las buenas canciones soportan cualquier estilo. Se publicó en 1995 en su album Medusa. Con cuál de las 3 os quedáis?

Let’s get one thing clear right from the start: I hate “Should I Stay or Should I Go”. Everything I liked about the Clash was dropped when Mick wrote this song. No energy; no remotely smart, meaningful or even likable lyrics; dumb-fuck guitars. This isn’t a Clash song; it’s something a songwriter would make for a talentless vocal pop singer. The only interesting part is Joe Strummer and guest Joe Ely singing in Spanish in the background, then screaming impromptu at Mick, leading to the infamous “Split!” bit. And, if you heard the original Rat Patrol mix, you’d understand why mixing them low pisses me off as well.
This song sucks.

And that’s the worst thing I have to say about Combat Rock.

Combat Rock is largely The Clash continuing from what they learned during Sandinista, stifled somewhat by Glyn Johns chopping Mick’s original mix to make it more commercially palatable. The result is undoubtedly their weakest work up to that point, but I’d hardly call it a sellout effort (except for “Should I Stay”). The group still experiment with Reggae, Dub, Funk and the like, but it’s less haphazard this time around. The thing is, that random experimentation was part of ‘Sandinista’s’ charm. Not all of the material on Sandinista was necessarily good, but focusing doesn’t make all THIS material necessarily good either.

“Know Your Rights” certainly kicks things off in the right musical direction with its jittery, ska-punk. Lyrically, though, could Joe not have been more predictable with his writing? I know there’s such a thing as passage of time, but it feels like this style of political irony was played out before Combat Rock even came out. Feel free to correct me on that; nonetheless, the writing on this one just makes me roll my eyes.

Things look up more with “Car Jamming”, one of three songs on Combat Rock (the others being “Atom Tan” and “Inoculated City”) that continues the Clash’s less-edged punk pop that includes previous songs “Lost in the Supermarket” and “Somebody Got Murdered”. “Lost in the Supermarket” took some getting used to for me, but I’m glad that, if they were to continue it, they got better at executing it. Sure, these three don’t get as good as those two songs, but “Inoculated City” gets pretty close.

I should say now, “Should I Stay” and “Rock the Casbah” were one of the few early introductions to The Clash I had as I grew up. Considering how my tastes have expanded, I’m not surprised at how much I’ve come to hate “Should I Stay”, but I’m kind of surprised at how much I like “Rock the Casbah”. Let’s not kid ourselves, “Rock the Casbah” is likely the most overplayed song the Clash ever made. It’s also damn fun to listen to. The performance of the group practically demands that you move yourself to the rhythm. I’m actually pleasantly surprised to find that it was Topper Headon who did the bass and piano, in addition to his usual drums; it’s a fantastically funky bass line, as is so with the piano. Also, I absolutely LOVE how Joe screams in this song; nothing can make a song quite like when a singer gets into it. And what will always rank as one of the Clash’s most epic (internet-slang and otherwise) moments is Joe’s delivery of the line: “The crowd got a whiff / Of that crazy Casbah JIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!!!”

Paul Simonon writes his third reggae contribution to the Clash lexicon as “Red Angel Dragnet”, a track inspired by the movie Taxi Driver and the weakest song in its collection of Clash continuities. The musical performance is about as perfect as they could have played it, (I particularly like the “Boom!” percussion throughout) but I really think Paul could have gotten into it more as a vocalist. It could be his accent, but his spoken-word delivery comes across as unsure. It’s like someone pushed him out into a spotlight at a poetry club, and he only just showed up.

I shouldn’t have to mention that “Straight to Hell” is one of Joe’s most poignant, if not one of the Clash’s best, songs, decrying numerous acts of injustice from immigrant alienation to abandoned Amerasian children. It holds no punches. Even Joe’s delivery of the somewhat amusing lyric “It ain’t Coca Cola / it’s rice” leaves a more embittered sentiment than humorous. There’s nothing wrong with this song.

The group continues their hip-hop explorations in “Overpowered by Funk”, and it nails the fun side of funk through most of the song. Then, near the end, graffiti artist Futura 2000 leaves the song with a patheticly written spoken word segment. Gee, don’t try at all, why don’t you?

“Sean Flynn” took some getting used to. The sickeningly sweet jazz flute at the start caught me off-guard, though it gives the song more character than the saxophone does. I’ve always thought the Clash’s attempted integration of saxophone into their songs was futile and misguided at best, as was the case with “Drug Stabbing Time” on Give ‘Em Enough Rope. It’s still the case here; the performers just can’t make it sound like it belongs anywhere else than a sitcom theme.

“Ghetto Defendant” might be the understated masterpiece of Combat Rock. I definitely think poet Allen Ginsberg’s vocals could have been mixed in better than just laying them on top (one thing the original Fort Bragg mix did better), and Joe could have sung with less hiccups in the chorus (ANOTHER thing the original Fort Bragg mix did better), but those are the only problems I have with the song. I particularly like how the chorus picks up in energy, and it doesn’t even change the tempo.

Combat Rock closes on one of the Clash’s strangest songs, “Death is a Star”, a soft, jazzy ballad about a phantom of death. It might not be the most “appropriate” way to end this era of the Clash, but look on the bright side; at least they ended with probably the only time they ever did jazz well.

Combat Rock is certainly the Clash’s most accessible record, and their weakest up to this point, but it has more merits than one looking in from the outside would expect. It’s no work of greatness, but it deserves a chance.

[4 stars, B]

Album highlights: “Rock the Casbah”, “Straight to Hell”, “Ghetto Defendant”