I’ve recently watched Donovan Letts’ documentary on The Clash, Westway to the World, for the umpteenth time, and afterwards, Viva Joe Strummer, which concentrates on the latter but retreads the material parts of the band history.
I was 17 when punk rock became a thing in the UK, and from mid-1977, when I was at university, I bought the New Musical Express every week, although it was a couple of months behind when it arrived in Stellenbosch, and avidly devoured its coverage of punk rock, and then New Wave and the genres and sub-genres that followed.
South African radio didn’t play punk rock and the records weren’t available in Stellenbosch and, therefore, if I knew a lot about The Clash, their views and of how rock critics evaluated their music, I never heard any of the band’s music until I bought London Calling in 1979. The music on this vinyl double album was quite removed from punk rock and I heard an exhilarating mix of rockabilly, reggae, ska, jazz and pop, along with punk elements. The NME had praised the album highly and, impressionable as I was then, barely 20, I would’ve have loved it regardless but the music was good, the variety was intriguing and the sound impressive.
After repeated listening, I developed favourites or, rather, there were tracks I started caring for less, such as “Lost in the Supermarket,” “Koka Kola,” “Lover’s Rock” and “I’m Not Down.”
On the other hand, the first 5 tracks, from “London Calling” to “Rudie Can’t Fail,” represent one of the best opening sides of any rock album. “Guns of Brixton” is arguably the one track off the album that is the stone classic for me.
I never brought any other Clash albums until The Story of The Clash, Vol 1 in 1993, which brought me up to speed with the best of the debut album, Give ‘em Enough Rope, Sandinista! and Combat Rock. I’d listened to the latter on a Sanyo personal tape player on a night time car journey from Pretoria to Cape Town and hadn’t been impressed, partly because I was mostly in a sleepy, comatose state, I guess, but after listening to the album again, on digital streaming, almost 40 years later, my first impression remained valid.
I finally bought The Clash (probably the version released in the US) in the early year of the 21st century and then the live album From Here to Eternity. I’ve also listened to Give ‘em Enough Rope and Sandinista! on digital streaming.
I wasn’t around in London, or the UK, when the punk movement flared up. never saw of those bands live and was never part of the general enthusiasm and fanatical appreciation and love for bands like the Clash, so all I have are the various albums and, for me, the first three studio albums are the only albums worth owning. The eclectic music that followed from their musical ambition, technical abilities and interest in exploring contemporary sounds and influences, leaves me cold. I suppose one must applaud their progressive approach and the understanding that musicians can’t afford to stagnate and endlessly repeat old glories if they want to be true to an artistic vision and to build a legacy.
The thing is that The Clash developed into a direction I didn’t, and still don’t, appreciate. For me it’s a truism that the music young musicians make in the first five to ten years of their careers, will always be the most exciting, interesting and entertaining. As they age, mature as persons and also as songwriters and become more technically adept, the initial vigour and creativity slowly dissipates and, if a musician becomes a better technical songwriter, they often forego intuitive brilliance and rely on mechanical methods to create. Joe strummer seems inordinately proud of the process, and in the abundance of songs, of recording Sandinista! but concedes that it might have been better if it had been judiciously pruned. Okay, so the musicians had many ideas and decided to make tracks of all of them and release them too, but this record confirms my contention that mature proficiency in songwriting is no guarantee of quality, other than in process and musicianship.
The first three Clash albums are the only ones worth owning or listening to more than once but they aren’t 100% killer, even London Calling, which is supposedly one of the greatest rock albums ever. I like the variety of the musical genres and styles but you can definitely divide the songs between the good and the mediocre and there are more of the latter than needs be.
Briefly, the Clash were hailed as the greatest rock band in the world, and the only gang in town, and so on, and the documentaries highlight those aspects that did indeed raise the band above and beyond the contemporary competition, and of course the myth making is glorious. There are only two music scenes I’ve ever wished I could’ve been part of: San Francisco between roughly 1965 and 1967, and punk rock London in 1976 and 1977. Regarding the latter period, The Sex Pistols started it all and The Clash ruled it all and there was plenty of mutton dressed as lamb but it seems to have been very exhilarating.
“(Only) White Man in Hammersmith Palais” is my favourite Clash song, and it’s telling, I suppose, that it’s not a roaring punk rocker but a more thoughtful reggae number, that epitomises to me what The Clash really meant as musical and cultural force. Nowadays it might be castigated as cultural appropriation but it’s a tour de forcenonetheless from a garage band with pretensions, then ambitions and finally skills and a presence.
