Post by Fuggle on Oct 1, 2004 6:46:10 GMT -5
London Calling (Legacy Edition)
Clash
Epic Records
It’s been 25 years since its original release, and over that time, London Calling still towers over its compatriots as not just a monumental punk milestone, but as the most important album of its era. That’s not really debatable at this point: With its third record, The Clash turned punk from a fad into a force, from raging nihilism to pointed idealism and, most importantly, into an ideologically and artistically credible force on par with everything the hippie generation produced, shy of The Beatles, of course.
But every armchair punk or music historian worth his or her salt (and most of those who aren’t worth it, either) already knows that. They know how the band didn’t just take the righteous idealism and amphetamine guitars of its debut (“London Calling”), but dabbled in everything from reggae or ska (“The Guns of Brixton” and “Wrong ’Em Boyo”) and Bo Diddley-inspired blues-punk (“Hateful”) to classic rockabilly (“Brand New Cadillac”) and pop (“Train in Vain”). Chances are, they’ve heard it all, too. The Clash’s legacy was secure long, long before this three-disc set could come along to defend it.
Pointing out the obvious isn’t the Legacy Edition’s purpose, since at its center is the very London Calling that roared onto store shelves in December of 1979 to chase the final moments of the ’70s out with a fanatical roar. Its centerpiece, however, is comprised of “The Vanilla Tapes,” demos cut from rehearsal recordings during London Calling’s preproduction phase. Long thought lost, destroyed or otherwise claimed by the ravages of poor organization and time, guitarist Mick Jones uncovered the nearly legendary cassettes while moving. Boasting five unreleased songs, and several alternate versions of well-known Clash classics, the Tapes are the closest thing to fresh Clash songs in 20 years. Don’t come looking for a well-polished chunk of history, however, as the Tapes boast a sound quality that’s rough to say the least. That shouldn’t interfere with diehards’ enjoyment of the new tracks, however.
Of the recently discovered tunes, there’s only one that’ll make Clash fans’ hearts pang with anguish, thinking of what might have been: “Heart and Mind.” Singer/guitarist Joe Strummer pits an avalanche of moral dilemmas over a midpaced punk rocker; it’s just the sort of track that would have been right at home on 1978’s Give ’Em Enough Rope (Epic) – which is probably why it got lost in the shuffle of London Calling. The others include the band’s take on swampy blues, as Jones croons about idle loves in “Lonesome Me,” the rather unremarkable blues-rock of “Walking the Slidewalk,” which the band reinvents as a rocksteady number on the next track, “Where You Gonna Go (Soweto).” They’re interesting, but in that sort of forgettable way the more obscure tracks on Sandinista! (1981, Epic) were.
Of course, it’s hard to judge what might have become of these songs, as many of the London Calling tracks that appear on the Tapes are still in their rudimentary forms. An early attempt at “London Calling” features slower tempos and a lurching, more staccato take on its legendary opening riff. “Hateful,” recorded without the vocals that’d appear on the album proper, opts for a more stumbling and rambunctious take on the Bo Diddley beat that lies at its center; about a third of all cuts feature radically different lyrics.
The DVD, directed by longtime Clash ally and Don Letts, feels more like a companion piece – or a huge amount of material rescued from the cutting-room floor – for Westway to the World. Filled with the typically grainy footage, and using the same black-backdrop interview sessions as the full-length documentary, it takes on London Calling from the band’s perspective.
More of the sort of Clash completist’s dream in the vein of the oft-bootlegged Rat Patrol from Fort Bragg demos of Combat Rock, albeit a less-polished one, London Calling’s Legacy Edition isn’t quite the fabled treasure trove of Clash wonders that the world was hoping for. It, however, serves to shed a whole new light on the original album’s songwriting and track list. The Clash’s legacy, however, remains just as important, with or without this pack of odds’n’sods.
- Matt Schild
Clash
Epic Records
It’s been 25 years since its original release, and over that time, London Calling still towers over its compatriots as not just a monumental punk milestone, but as the most important album of its era. That’s not really debatable at this point: With its third record, The Clash turned punk from a fad into a force, from raging nihilism to pointed idealism and, most importantly, into an ideologically and artistically credible force on par with everything the hippie generation produced, shy of The Beatles, of course.
But every armchair punk or music historian worth his or her salt (and most of those who aren’t worth it, either) already knows that. They know how the band didn’t just take the righteous idealism and amphetamine guitars of its debut (“London Calling”), but dabbled in everything from reggae or ska (“The Guns of Brixton” and “Wrong ’Em Boyo”) and Bo Diddley-inspired blues-punk (“Hateful”) to classic rockabilly (“Brand New Cadillac”) and pop (“Train in Vain”). Chances are, they’ve heard it all, too. The Clash’s legacy was secure long, long before this three-disc set could come along to defend it.
Pointing out the obvious isn’t the Legacy Edition’s purpose, since at its center is the very London Calling that roared onto store shelves in December of 1979 to chase the final moments of the ’70s out with a fanatical roar. Its centerpiece, however, is comprised of “The Vanilla Tapes,” demos cut from rehearsal recordings during London Calling’s preproduction phase. Long thought lost, destroyed or otherwise claimed by the ravages of poor organization and time, guitarist Mick Jones uncovered the nearly legendary cassettes while moving. Boasting five unreleased songs, and several alternate versions of well-known Clash classics, the Tapes are the closest thing to fresh Clash songs in 20 years. Don’t come looking for a well-polished chunk of history, however, as the Tapes boast a sound quality that’s rough to say the least. That shouldn’t interfere with diehards’ enjoyment of the new tracks, however.
Of the recently discovered tunes, there’s only one that’ll make Clash fans’ hearts pang with anguish, thinking of what might have been: “Heart and Mind.” Singer/guitarist Joe Strummer pits an avalanche of moral dilemmas over a midpaced punk rocker; it’s just the sort of track that would have been right at home on 1978’s Give ’Em Enough Rope (Epic) – which is probably why it got lost in the shuffle of London Calling. The others include the band’s take on swampy blues, as Jones croons about idle loves in “Lonesome Me,” the rather unremarkable blues-rock of “Walking the Slidewalk,” which the band reinvents as a rocksteady number on the next track, “Where You Gonna Go (Soweto).” They’re interesting, but in that sort of forgettable way the more obscure tracks on Sandinista! (1981, Epic) were.
Of course, it’s hard to judge what might have become of these songs, as many of the London Calling tracks that appear on the Tapes are still in their rudimentary forms. An early attempt at “London Calling” features slower tempos and a lurching, more staccato take on its legendary opening riff. “Hateful,” recorded without the vocals that’d appear on the album proper, opts for a more stumbling and rambunctious take on the Bo Diddley beat that lies at its center; about a third of all cuts feature radically different lyrics.
The DVD, directed by longtime Clash ally and Don Letts, feels more like a companion piece – or a huge amount of material rescued from the cutting-room floor – for Westway to the World. Filled with the typically grainy footage, and using the same black-backdrop interview sessions as the full-length documentary, it takes on London Calling from the band’s perspective.
More of the sort of Clash completist’s dream in the vein of the oft-bootlegged Rat Patrol from Fort Bragg demos of Combat Rock, albeit a less-polished one, London Calling’s Legacy Edition isn’t quite the fabled treasure trove of Clash wonders that the world was hoping for. It, however, serves to shed a whole new light on the original album’s songwriting and track list. The Clash’s legacy, however, remains just as important, with or without this pack of odds’n’sods.
- Matt Schild