Sprawling, messy, at times glorious, Sandinista! is either the best of Clash albums or the worst of Clash albums, depending on whom you ask. In a Charles Dickens-y kind of way, perhaps it is both.
I've considered the possibility that Sandinista! is the band's best album, but I haven't been able to seriously entertain that notion for long. I hate to take up a standard line, but it's true: this material would have made a truly masterful double album instead of a triple.
Which isn't to say that there is any poor material here, just that some of it is clearly better than the rest. My own suggestion would be to trim down a few of the four-minute-plus songs down to size (imagine, instead of a 4:32 version of "Up In Heaven (Not Here)" a version that ends about a minute earlier; while you're at it, shave a minute off of "The Crooked Beat," and you get the idea) and to take the dubs and "Mensforth Hill" (and perhaps "Hitsville UK" or "Lose This Skin") and put them on a 12" attached to the double LP (as what we would call "bonus tracks" today), and the album proper becomes leaner and more powerful. Then you might have a serious contender for The Clash's best album.
As it is, I appreciate what the band was after -- to give the people who buy the album the best deal they can offer, the most material for their money, in their own attempt to bust the rock star-money grab/corporate chain of greed that they so detested.
So, where is the greatness of Sandinista! to be found? To put it simply, Sandinista! is the band's most creative album. If London Calling was The Clash's masterful attempt at fusing its own innovative reggae-punk with classic rock idiom, Sandinista! takes the formula a step further not only by exploring those musical traditions in greater depth but also by reaching out to further corners of the world of sound: to rap, funk, jazz, and dub, in particular, abetted by the spacey, echoey sound of Mick Jones' guitar. Mickey Gallagher's keyboard (in addition to Topper's nimble drumming) is the great enabler here, creating a substantial difference between Sandinista! and the band's punkier earlier material. Strummer had not yet reached out to the far corners of the globe -- to East Asia -- as he would with Combat Rock, but lyrically the bloke from Ladbroke Grove had traveled far already, and the music from the rest of the band was keeping up with the beat. The Clash had started out a provincial band, capturing the spirit of a particular cultural and historical moment, embedded in a particular locale. While London Calling looked to far horizons, it filtered everything through the London sound. Sandinista!, by contrast, speaks of having been to those far horizons and come back. If there is a city backdrop anywhere in Sandinista!, it isn't London, nor is it Kingstown, Jamaica, where part of the album was recorded -- it's New York, the beat of which infuses "The Magnificent Seven" and carries through in a steady vibe throughout the rest of the album's thirty-six tracks. On this album, The Clash becomes, temporarily at least, an American band.
Particular songs to note:
"The Magnificent Seven": Strummer's convincing and bold excursion into rap without compromising in the least the band's muscular sound.
"Something About England": one of the Clash's most poignant songs to date, a song that deals with English culture and the pervasiveness of racism/conservative prigginshness in contemporary English society in a more nuanced way than Strummer's lyrics had treated these themes in the past--but without losing his signature vocal snarl.
"Rebel Waltz": showcasing a tough band's willingness to make a song that is, quite simply, very pretty.
"Look Here": No one would ever mistake The Clash for a jazz combo, Topper Headon's drum talents notwithstanding, but they certainly do Mose Allison no disservice with this cover. One of the band's most genuinely musically inventive moments.
"The Crooked Beat": Though perhaps a bit too long, still a great contribution by Paul Simonon, whose stilted vocals possess an unmistakeably crooked charm.
"Corner Soul"; "Washington Bullets": While sticking with a West Indian vibe, these songs lyrically take the band in a more truly global direction. "Bullets" is a bit blunt and clumsy with its lyrics, but it's still a delightful shock to hear a scrawny Englishman attacking the United States of America with such confidence.
"The Sound of the Sinners": Faux-gospel, something truly unexpected, but Strummer manages to channel the vocal enthusiasm required by the genre.
"Charlie Don't Surf": Lyrically, this song is a precursor to "Straight to Hell" and others on Combat Rock. Certainly, "Straight to Hell," with its surface ironies barely masking the song's poignant sensitivities, is the superior song, but there's also a place for the jokey approach of "Charlie" in The Clash's repertoire.
"Broadway": Perhaps The Clash's most melancholy song ever, a heartfelt street anthem. You can imagine Joe Strummer walking the streets of New York, early dawn, running into some bum, and the exchange that follows. A stunning New York counterpart to "Something About England."
I've left out a few others -- "One More Time," the album's best reggae track, and "Kingston Advice" -- but the album is simply too big to grasp in one sitting. I've never listened to the whole thing straight through, and I wonder who has. Maybe I'll try it some day.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Pete Howard and The Clash's Last Stand
Perhaps Strummer should have shut down the Casbah Club after Jones was ousted from the band. But he didn't. Though the results were certainly mixed, it wasn't all a wash. Much of what is good in the band's final phase has to do with Pete Howard, last but not the least when it comes to manning The Clash's drum kit.
Cut the Crap was a disaster, a parody of what the band used to be, but it wasn't fated to turn out that way. For one thing, The Clash still had a great drummer in Howard. Though no one could beat Topper Headon--one of the best rock drummers ever, I believe--Howard was more than competent and a better match for The Clash than his immediate predecessor, Terry Chimes.
A brief review of live versions of "Straight to Hell" proves the point. Chimes doesn't attempt to recreate any of the dynamics of Topper Headon's original drum part; the part he plays, as seen in youtube videos or the Saturday Night Live performance of the song from 1982, flattens the song, rendering it more of a typical 1980s arena-rock song than it deserves to be. Howard, by contrast, does an admirable job of capturing what Headon did on the song (from his very first performances with the band), all that knocking and clicking on the rims that seems integral to the song, making it sound more global and not so much stranded in the rock tradition without any awareness of what lies beyond. You could argue that Howard is merely being imitative, but at least he had the skill and a sensibility for what the song demanded. In his performance at the Us Festival in 1983 (Jones' last show with the band), he looks for some reason like he's in great pain, but with other band members struggling to keep it together (either Jones or Simonon starts the song in the wrong key; Strummer's singing is flat at times, and he's holding on to his right ear throughout the entire song as though he can't hear himself sing) he holds on until the rest of the band members find their places, and he pulls off his own part to great success.
As late as 1985, Howard's playing proves that the band still had some potential. The June 29, 1985, Roskilde Festival bootleg features some great drumming, and not all of it is imitative of Topper Headon. Howard's performances on "Armagideon Time," "The Magnificent Seven," and "Rock the Casbah" are noteworthy and significantly different from other versions of these songs. Though Howard fails to capture the finesse of Headon on "Clampdown" (especially the way Headon rode his hi-hat), he pounds out some heavy fills that make for an impressive performance. My favorite versions of "Bankrobber" date to mid-1981, when Topper was pulling off some amazing rapid-fire drumming about two minutes into the song (listen to the Bond's International Casino gigs for the best example), but the Roskilde version with Howard on drums is great, too--and different. Howard's drums on "Broadway" from the same show are fantastic, as well, reminiscent as much of Stewart Copeland as of Topper Headon. The rest of the band may be falling apart around him, but Howard keeps them tight, and, believe it or not, some of the songs really come to life in a way that they sometimes didn't with the classic lineup. The guitars are also tighter than they were with Jones playing lead -- not necessarily better, but Vince White and Nick Sheppard at least know their parts.
The question, then, is why Bernie Rhodes replaced Howard with a drum machine for the recording of the songs that became Cut the Crap. Without parsing the finer details of these final recording sessions, I think we can safely say that the band was simply falling apart, and whether it was Bernie Rhodes' hubris or the same individual's desperation makes little difference: the record label expected an album, and by that point Strummer was largely absent, it seems, mentally and often physically as well. The band had effectively disintegrated. Rhodes, according to Pat Gilbert's history of the band, Passion Is a Fashion, was going for a cutting-edge, contemporary sound, but at the same time (paradoxically) wanted to take the band back to its punk roots. Clearly, he failed. Some of the songs had some great potential, though (I'm fond of "Three Card Trick"), which they might have better achieved with Howard actually playing a role in the studio.
The Roskilde Festival bootleg from 1985 is of mixed audio quality, but it does offer a good glimpse of the potential the band had left. The band pulls off a good version of "Pressure Drop" and the new song "Three Card Trick." But from all accounts Strummer's heart wasn't in it, or was only in it sporadically.
Cut the Crap was a disaster, a parody of what the band used to be, but it wasn't fated to turn out that way. For one thing, The Clash still had a great drummer in Howard. Though no one could beat Topper Headon--one of the best rock drummers ever, I believe--Howard was more than competent and a better match for The Clash than his immediate predecessor, Terry Chimes.
A brief review of live versions of "Straight to Hell" proves the point. Chimes doesn't attempt to recreate any of the dynamics of Topper Headon's original drum part; the part he plays, as seen in youtube videos or the Saturday Night Live performance of the song from 1982, flattens the song, rendering it more of a typical 1980s arena-rock song than it deserves to be. Howard, by contrast, does an admirable job of capturing what Headon did on the song (from his very first performances with the band), all that knocking and clicking on the rims that seems integral to the song, making it sound more global and not so much stranded in the rock tradition without any awareness of what lies beyond. You could argue that Howard is merely being imitative, but at least he had the skill and a sensibility for what the song demanded. In his performance at the Us Festival in 1983 (Jones' last show with the band), he looks for some reason like he's in great pain, but with other band members struggling to keep it together (either Jones or Simonon starts the song in the wrong key; Strummer's singing is flat at times, and he's holding on to his right ear throughout the entire song as though he can't hear himself sing) he holds on until the rest of the band members find their places, and he pulls off his own part to great success.
As late as 1985, Howard's playing proves that the band still had some potential. The June 29, 1985, Roskilde Festival bootleg features some great drumming, and not all of it is imitative of Topper Headon. Howard's performances on "Armagideon Time," "The Magnificent Seven," and "Rock the Casbah" are noteworthy and significantly different from other versions of these songs. Though Howard fails to capture the finesse of Headon on "Clampdown" (especially the way Headon rode his hi-hat), he pounds out some heavy fills that make for an impressive performance. My favorite versions of "Bankrobber" date to mid-1981, when Topper was pulling off some amazing rapid-fire drumming about two minutes into the song (listen to the Bond's International Casino gigs for the best example), but the Roskilde version with Howard on drums is great, too--and different. Howard's drums on "Broadway" from the same show are fantastic, as well, reminiscent as much of Stewart Copeland as of Topper Headon. The rest of the band may be falling apart around him, but Howard keeps them tight, and, believe it or not, some of the songs really come to life in a way that they sometimes didn't with the classic lineup. The guitars are also tighter than they were with Jones playing lead -- not necessarily better, but Vince White and Nick Sheppard at least know their parts.
The question, then, is why Bernie Rhodes replaced Howard with a drum machine for the recording of the songs that became Cut the Crap. Without parsing the finer details of these final recording sessions, I think we can safely say that the band was simply falling apart, and whether it was Bernie Rhodes' hubris or the same individual's desperation makes little difference: the record label expected an album, and by that point Strummer was largely absent, it seems, mentally and often physically as well. The band had effectively disintegrated. Rhodes, according to Pat Gilbert's history of the band, Passion Is a Fashion, was going for a cutting-edge, contemporary sound, but at the same time (paradoxically) wanted to take the band back to its punk roots. Clearly, he failed. Some of the songs had some great potential, though (I'm fond of "Three Card Trick"), which they might have better achieved with Howard actually playing a role in the studio.
The Roskilde Festival bootleg from 1985 is of mixed audio quality, but it does offer a good glimpse of the potential the band had left. The band pulls off a good version of "Pressure Drop" and the new song "Three Card Trick." But from all accounts Strummer's heart wasn't in it, or was only in it sporadically.
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