It’s likely a lot of folks thought that a double-album by The Clash was the height of folly before they released London Calling in 1979. How could the band’s potent but straightforward bashing hold up over four sides without seeming repetitive?
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Little did folks know how much this quartet had up their sleeves in terms of genre variety and songwriting depth. Instead of overstaying its welcome, London Calling left us wanting more.
The Only Band That Matters Delivers Their Magnum Opus
The Clash hadn’t quite separated themselves from their punk brethren as they headed into the making of their third album. They certainly came out of the gate strong with their fiery 1977 self-titled debut and several explosive singles, all of which showed they had the smarts and chops to match their irreverent attitude.
The follow-up a year later (Give ‘Em Enough Rope) lacked something compared to the debut record, as it felt like they were rehashing lyrical and musical ideas without the same potency. It also didn’t bode well for their prospects that the punk movement as a whole had lost a great deal of momentum in just a few years.
The Clash seemed to have sensed the forces rising against them, because they steeled themselves for the fight. They came into the recording process with clear demos of most of the new material. That meant there was less thrashing about in the studio and more focus on getting the most out of the songs.
Their choice of producer proved crucial as well. Guy Stevens was a bit notorious within the industry because of his proclivity for drugs and drink, but The Clash found in him a kindred spirit. Instead of questioning their ideas or trying to add polish to them, Stevens encouraged the band to be fearless in what they attempted. (Stevens died of an overdose in 1981 at only 38 years old.)
The Clash’s productivity at the time was such that the record itself could barely contain it. Album artwork for London Calling was already complete when the band turned in one more song (“Train in Vain”). They’d have to stick it onto the end of the album, and it wouldn’t appear in the track listing, but it turned into a surprise hit single to promote the whole affair.
Behind the Music of London Calling
London Calling opens with the title track, a concise yet thorough rendering of many of the world’s ills at the end of the ’70s, and what it felt like to live through them. Musically, it returned to the focused force of the first record, with a little more musical dexterity. But we sort of knew they could do that. It’s how the rest of the record progressed, confidently moving from style to style without losing the clarity of its oft-confrontational message, that astounds.
They’d already delivered hints of reggae and ska, which they brought again on London Calling on ebullient tracks like “Rudie Can’t Fail” and “Wrong ’em Boyo.” But we hadn’t heard the soulful expression of “Lovers Rock,” the confessional sweep of “Lost in the Supermarket,” or the ambitious arrangements of “The Right Profile” or “The Card Cheat.”
With songs like that interspersed, thunderous anthems like “Death or Glory” and “Spanish Bombs” hit ever harder. Joe Strummer and Mick Jones take turns spitting the truth, and then Paul Simonon comes out of nowhere with the icy intensity of “The Guns of Brixton.” When Jones pops up to close out the album with the pristine pop of “Train in Vain,” it’s like a flex to show all their peers this band could do it all.
Alas, history showed they couldn’t do it for a long. Their two subsequent albums when they were still a unit contained flashes of the old greatness, but not the consistency. (And the less said about Cut the Crap, recorded by a shell of the original band, the better.) No matter. Expecting more from The Clash was always unfair, because they gave so much on London Calling.
Photo by Michael Putland/Getty Images
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