Thirty Years is a really long time and well its hard for me to think that. Thirty years ago I went to the store and bought an album with a black and white image of smashing guitarist on the cover by a band called The Clash.
Thirty years..hard to believe isn’t it
I remember being so incredibly excited cuz it was priced as a single lp rather the double that it was. I remember the sale sticker on the plastic wrap was orange.
I tore that open as I did most lps back then in a quiet room sitting on the floor never ever touching ANYTHING but the very outer rim of the disc. For some reason I was certain touching the lp anywhere else would ruin it forever.
I had a bad ass stereo too. The speakers weren’t attached to the turntable. You’re jealous, admit it.
So there I sat and its funny cuz I can actually see the gold carpet of my room as I write this and I raised the album up not to different than than a priest offering up the holy host at the alter (take that racist Ill see you with a blasphemy). I was so beyond excited. It was night time and I remember being slightly miffed that the volume would need to remain tolerable to the household….what a rip off.
With the glide of a needle I heard for the first time “Hateful”. A song that to me was so risque’ even then. Joe sounded rough and and there was a gruff tiredness in his voice with this. The hiccup sound of a raw throat. I adore that in Joe’s singing. You’ll note it numerous times in “London Calling”, what some consider the best rock album of all time. Critically acclaimed and the gate opener to mainstream London Calling offered a bit of something for everyone. But to my satisfaction, not enough to make them a household name. The Clash were my band. I wanted to keep them that way, and although I wanted them to be successful. I didn’t want those assholes at school wearing their gear. They didn’t deserve to. They were posers.
London Calling the Jones/Strummer masterpiece is timeless and if spun for the first time today would not show its 30 years as some others of its day would.
There are so many memories in this album that to go song by song would expose me far too much. Girl needs a bit of mystery about her. But I can tell you that the lyrics to “I’m Not Down” will always be my rally cry, that the raw sexy sound of Strummer “Jimmy Jazz” will always make me a bit racy (is that politically correct?) That the title song was screamed as I stood on the roof of my elementary school with a Marlboro hanging out of my mouth and pair of combat boots on my feet. My God how times change. Or a drunken rendition of Death or Glory. This with another musician I should really write about some time as soon as I can come some sort of peace with it. He and I belted this tune out in an empty club one day before a show. HA..see there goes memory lane again. Ill pull over here.
London Calling despite critical acclaim gave our ears new sounds from ‘punk rockers’, made them just a bit less mysterious. Took the whole new wave/punk thing and made it OK to like both. “Clampdown” is a song I still sing aloud,mostly on bad days at the office. “The Right Profile” kept right in time with my then obsession with James Dean (and made me look into Montgomery Clift)
Lyrically there is not a dud in the bunch, musically there are some of the highest moments, such as the power of “London Callings” intro to the rather silly Koka Kola but who amongst us didn’t at least once go ‘Elahvatah goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo’in up!’. And as a girl with Brixton roots “The Guns of Brixton” made me feel sorta cool.
So here’s to The Clash London Calling on its 30th birthday. Amazing today as it was then, transporting us back to times when things were so much more cool its legacy allowing the next generation to feel it too. Oh and by the way that’s Paul smashing his bass on the album jacket, just in case you didn’t know.