It was thirty years ago today that London Calling by The Clash came out.
If you get 100 people off the street to free-associate what “punk rock” means, I suspect the answers you get will depend on the subjects’ ages and whatever social label they wear on their sleeves (or through their noses).
People under 30 – the ones who were born long after “Punk” was dead? They’ll probably think attitude-thick genre museum bands like Green Day and Blink 182, people who’ve kept the superficial elements of the punk form – buzz-saw guitars heavy on rhythm and light on solo pyrotechnics, three-minute songs, lots of attitude (justified or not).
People under 40 who see themselves as maybe just a tad counterculture? Maybe they’ll slip in references to Rancid, Social Distortion, the Dead Kennedys or Henry Rollins, and mumble something about rejecting this and anarchy that and dystopic the other thing, and some of the other adolescent catchphrases that “punks” repeated at the time, and maybe even dye their hair pink, don a pair of greasy black stovepipe jeans and a ripped t-shirt and stick a safety pin through their nose for good measure.
But just about anyone of any age who can remember the term “Punk Rock” will list London Calling as the peak of the genre. Perhaps if you were sentient at the time – and, at 16, I barely was – you can recall some of the hype and hyperbole over the record; to one critic or another, the Clash were “the only band that matters”; Dave Marsh famously opined that the Clash “is a band that can do anything they want, right now”. At a time when music was changing faster than it had since the first radio station banned the first Elvis Presley record from airplay, The Clash were the band that was pushing the change further, and faster, than anyone.
The funny thing, though? The part that two generations of critics, poseurs and after-the-fact fans miss, thirty years after the fact? London Calling largely wasn’t a “punk” record.
The ironies keep coming, though. While London Calling wasn’t “punk”, it did more to further “punk”‘s alleged goals, at least as far as music was concerned, than every other punk record combined. It effected more change in mainstream musical taste than any other punk record. It kicked the Top Forty open to ragged, raw, “do-it-yourself” music more than any record, ever. Its’ appearance on the Billboard charts kicked off the greatest disturbance in the Top Forty force since FM radio stopped being “alternative” – the glorious, four-or-so year period in the eighties where the “alternative” was the mainstream.
London Calling covered the waterfront, style-wise: from brutal, hard punk rock (the title cut, “Clampdown”), giddy ska (“Wrong ’em Boyo”, “I’m Not Down”), balmy bar-band reggae (“Rudy Can’t Fail”, “Revolution Rock”)…
…and quite a bit that you can’t classify at all; “Spanish Bombs”, which sounds like the Kinks rendering Ennio Morricone; “Jimmy Jazz”, a slinky, boozy “blues” number which is to jazz what Chris Gaines was to alt-rock; “Brand New Cadillac”, a menacing minor-key-inverted cover of “the first British rock and roll record” by Vince Taylor which sounds like…well, like the Clash doing rockabilly.
I think I played my first copy until it turned white from the needle tracking. And even today, it’s got something for just about every mood; over the weekend I had ‘Rudy Can’t Fail” coursing through my head – partly because we used it as a bumper on Saturday, but also because it’s one of the catchiest songs of the decade.
On those days when I’m feeling very 47 years old and the world’s been beating me about the head and shoulders enough to get me down, I spin “Death Or Glory”:
What’s it about? The gruelling life of a rock star, for all I care. But it’s three minutes and change of exactly why I love music; it grabs me in the liver and says “Dance, mofo!”+
And I do.
The other moment? “The Card Cheat”
I didn’t really “get” this song when I was 17. I think I was probably into my thirties before I really figured it out. And today, if someone asks me why London Calling is so great, it’s my answer.
It’s a musical version of a noir film – speaking of genres I didn’t appreciate until I was older. What’s it about? Flailing against the darkness, or seeking and failing to find one little bit of immortality, or maybe just crap from Mick Jones’ notebook?
I dunno. But between the Irish Horns’ ruffles and flourishes and Jones’ dork-fingered piano playing, it wrenches a noir beauty out of the garage-band genre.
The Clash couldn’t live up to the hype, of course; nobody could live up to the kind of hype that they got in their day. The followup, Sandinista, was ambitious but shrill; Combat Rock gave me the sense that Strummer and Jones thought they were too good for the whole “pop star” thing – it was like a punk-reggae Dennis DeYoung record.
But London Calling is still timeless, as these things go.
Great, great album. Angryclown participated in a discussion on another forum in which one fellow averred that he just didn’t get what was so special about “London Calling.” Angryclown suggested that, whatever his true feelings, he did not want to be known as that guy who doesn’t get “London Calling.” Angryclown advised him to lock himself in a room and listen to the songs, over and over, until he gained that essential insight that would permit him to rejoin sentient humanity.
Great post — while London Calling probably isn’t the best album in rock history, it always felt like the most necessary record. And you’re right — 30 years on, it doesn’t really sound “punk” anymore. It just sounds like a great rock and roll record.
Personally, I always liked Side Two the best — “Spanish Bombs,” “The Right Profile,” “Lost in the Supermarket,” “Clampdown” and “The Guns of Brixton” are a dazzling display of prowess — the only album side I like better is Side 1 of Van Morrison’s Moondance.
“lock himself in a room and listen to the songs, over and over, ”
That was my summer of 1980.
I remember the feel of NYC when this disk came out. Part of that “feel” was certainly the fact I was 16yo, but the city actually had a kind of gritty feel below, say 23rd St. The Clash played the Palladium, an old, somewhat tattered theatre (since razed and now a sterile NYU dorm). There was a good or great radio station or two (WNEW-fm; WPIX-fm). Music (and fm radio) mattered back then.
It was VERY long ago; all that’s left are occasional glimmers of memory; memories of memories..
Card Cheat reminds me a lot of Elvis Costello’s “What’s So Good ‘Bout Peace Love and Understanding” from Armed Forces, which was released about the same time.
Oh Master. “What’s So Good ‘Bout Peace Love and Understanding,” is the foreign policy motto of the Republican Party. The Elvis Costello song, written by Nick Lowe, is “What’s So *Funny* ‘Bout Peace, Love and Understanding.”
Thanks for the correction. You certainly know teh *Funny* (have you seen Obama’s approval ratings lately?)
London Calling as the peak of the genre
Hate to disagree and not to take anything away from London Calling, but punk’s peak was undoubtedly “Never Mind the Bollocks”.
And no mention of Ramones? Tsk, tsk.
Hate to disagree and not to take anything away from London Calling, but punk’s peak was undoubtedly “Never Mind the Bollocks”.
Great album – but it defined British punk, while I think London Calling transcended it.
And no mention of Ramones? Tsk, tsk.
What album did they release thirty years ago today? 🙂
Well, you did mention Rancid, Social Distortion, the Dead Kennedys or Henry Rollins
Teh Clash? Didn’t they do Rockin the Casbah?
RIP Joe Strummer.
Well, you did mention…
Yes. As second-generation bands!
But have no fear. The Ramones will be part of the series. Stay tuned.
The Ramones were the punk version of The Beach Boys. Which isn’t saying anything bad, of course.
The Ramones were the punk version of The Beach Boys. Which isn’t saying anything bad, of course.
It’s actually very high praise.
Rock rock, Rockaway Beach!
Rock rock, Rockaway Beach!
Rock rock, Rockaway Beach!
I wanna hitch a ride to Rockaway Beach!
Yes, it’s me, again. Your friendly, neighborhood curmudgeon.
Punk? Bad music being played too loudly, by inept musicians?
There’s absolutely nothing about it that merits being discussed, reminisced about, or even listened to more than once. (Or even once, if you’re sober).
Is “curmudgeon” Norwegian for “shithead”?
Nah. “curmugeon” is Norwegian for “clown”.
Yes, it’s me, again. Your friendly, neighborhood curmudgeon.
Punk? Bad music being played too loudly, by inept musicians?
Nope.
And yes, I will claim a position of authority. I play everything from classical (I’ve been a cellist for 36 years) to rap (three years as a club DJ) – and while the whole “do it yourself” “garage band” thing meant that a fair number of punks were less that virtuosic. it’s an objective fact that Mick Jones was a good guitar player, Paul Simonon an outstanding bass player, and Nicky “Topper Headon” Leadon was and is an excellent drummer by any rational standard.
There’s absolutely nothing about it that merits being discussed, reminisced about, or even listened to more than once. (Or even once, if you’re sober).
I refute you thus; I’m sober, and I find merit in the discussion.
Dismissed.
it’s an objective fact that Mick Jones was a good guitar player, Paul Simonon an outstanding bass player, and Nicky “Topper Headon” Leadon was and is an excellent drummer by any rational standard.
It is. And Joe Strummer was a commanding presence as a frontman and a competent singer, too.
Well, OK. At least you’re not going on and on about the fucking Sex Pistols.
I anticipate Mitch will give props to the Ramones, however, mnbubba. They were the real deal.
I will – although I’ll note that this series talks about stuff that came out in ’79-’80 (and a little bit of ’81). The Ramones’ heyday was back in ’76’-78.
Although…well, stay tuned.
Mitch is all wet when it comes to politics, of course, but Angryclown bows to his musical judgments.
And Joe Strummer was a commanding presence as a frontman
Would have loved to see them in concert. Alas, it was not meant to be.