The Clash: Sandinista! - 1980
"The album was made for people on oil rigs who couldn't get to a record shop regularly" - Mick Jones
Ring, ring - it's 7 a.m. and on then we go to this controversial album. Bloated, self-indulgent, 15 tracks too long,..all the contemporary and continuing criticisms hold water. However, for me, despite all those drawbacks, it is only the last few tracks that I feel I could do without.
On the whole, the album is chock full of great stuff. Sandinista! (inspired by the Nicaraguan left-wing resistance group) is a veritable cornucopia of musical styles - hip hop, rap, rockabilly, Americana, folk, cajun, country, 60s pop, disco, Motown, reggae, dub, jazz, bluegrass, gospel, calypso, funk, doo-wop, rock n roll, even waltz...why, they are all there. Everything it seems...except punk. The very thing that had catapulted The Clash on the road to stardom has been eschewed, big time.
To an extent, after the cross-genre success of London Calling, The Clash had suddenly become almost mainstream, and with that came an arrogance and cocksure attitude of untouchability and a feeling that they could get as drug-addled as they liked and, in true arrogant, cynical White Album style, record what the hell they liked - rubbish or not. From all accounts the sessions for the album, initially in Jamaica (initially the album was to be far more reggae-flavoured, featuring Mikey Dread as producer) and subsequently in New York City, were chaotic and over-populated with numerous musicians and hangers-on. Several different people played bits here and there on the album, it is certainly not all the four members only, far from it. Sometimes drummer Topper Headon was either too drugged up or frustrated by some of Strummer and Jones’ ideas and bassist Paul Simonon was missing on some occasions. Norman Watt-Roy (bass) and Mickey Gallagher keyboards) from The Blockheads were present for quite a lot of the sessions.
One more time in the ghetto....
The Magnificent Seven saw The Clash's first use of the burgeoning genre of hip/hop as an influence on a lengthy, lyric-laden, frantic urban rap. It has a totally infectious rhythm to it. Lyrically, it is wry and witty, again showing that the group had a sharp, humorous, observant side to them. A month before Blondie's Rapture, it was the first song from a white group to use hip-hop rhythms and, although the vocals were not pure rap as such, they were most definitely rap-influenced. The sound here was the first brick in the foundations of Mick Jones' next group, Big Audio Dynamite. Despite the rousing fare The Clash remain famous for, this is up there as one of their best ever songs.
An old blues song, Junco Partner was covered by many and dating originally from 1951, it is given the Strummer treatment here with catchy, reggae-influenced groove and a typically slurred vocal. It was one of numerous quirky and genre-defying numbers present on this unique album. There was also an odd quality to the dum sound on this album that I haven't heard anywhere else, by The Clash or anyone else. That unique Sandinista! sound.
Ivan Meets G.I. Joe had some politically-inspired pop dance grooves, complete with bleepy space invaders noises and a rare vocal from drummer Topper Headon. It is actually longer than one imagines it to be when listening, due to its frantic pace. It is wry and witty too. The Clash always had a developed sense of dark humour. The topical tracks are now coming thick and fast.
The Leader is a frantic and beautifully bassy doo-wop anti-media rant. Five tracks in, we have had five different styles - hip/hop, Motown-ish pop, jazzy blues, electro dance and now doo-wop rockabilly. Impressive. Jones' (mainly) delivers the plaintive, heavily string-orchestrated Something About England, about British social history. Jones always had a good feel for the past, particularly London's, and it comes through clearly here.
Sung over an authentic waltz-derived back beat, the highly unusual Rebel Waltz merged that traditional classical style with a country-derived vocal. as with so many Clash songs of the era, it is utterly unclassifiable, genre-wise. Now we get some bluegrass and folky Americana in a lively and jazzy Mose Allison cover, Look Here. Quite what the punks made of these last two tracks is anybody's guess. I have to admit to be pretty nonplussed although my loyalty to the band saw me ready to give them a chance. They stayed in my head so I guess had the desired effect.
On The Crooked Beat, bassist Paul Simonon contributed his unusual-sounding, typically-deadpan vocals to this unsurprisingly dubby reggae groove. It also featured supplementary "toasting" vocals from Mikey Dread. It was very much up with the times in its scratchy roots reggae sound and its use of a DJ/toaster. It was one of my instant favourites from back then - a bit of a reassurance that The Clash had not turned their backs on their brand of reggae.
The only remotely riffy/new wave number on the album was Somebody Got Murdered, along with Police On My Back. Jones's trademark melodious guitar and plaintively light vocal are great and it would not have been out of place on London Calling. On first listen to the album, I remember being taken aback, initially, by the music of the preceding tracks and being reassured by this one that The Clash were still The Clash.
One More Time is a muscular, dubby Strummer piece of urban observation delivered over a slowed down vaguely funk-rock-dub beat. Once again, Mikey Dread lends his toasting skills to proceedings. It mines the same dubby seam that Armagideon Time had done and is full of late seventies-early eighties punky reggae party crossover vibes. One More Dub was the deep, bassy dub partner to the previous track.
What now? A complex, pseudo-funk rap, that's what. A forerunner to the next album's Overpowered By Funk and a cousin to The Magnificent Seven, Lightning Strikes (Not Once But Twice) again saw the band seriously pushing boundaries. Was there anything they couldn't turn their hand to? Jones's riffy and tuneful adaptation of a Phil Ochs song in Up In Heaven (Not Only Here) deserves a bit more attention than it ever got, to be fair. It is very similar in feel to Somebody Got Murdered, just not quite as instantly appealing. The bass and drums at the end remind me a lot of Bruce Foxton and Rick Buckler from The Jam.
Lyrically Latin-inspired and beguiling, Corner Soul definitely seemed a typical Strummer offering to me, exploring his often-occurring Central/South American political interest. "Beat the drums tonight, Alphonso" is such a Strummer line. With Let's Go Crazy it was time for some Notting Hill Carnival-inspired calypso-ish reggae with a steel band chucked in there too. I've always loved the ebullient, West London atmosphere of this, something Mick Jones' next group, Big Audio Dynamite would perpetuate through the late eighties. Again, I am amazed at the different musical styles, literally track by track. A phenomenal achievement.
A bit similar to side four's Broadway, If Music Could Talk was a jazzy, saxophone-enhanced laid-back stream of lyrical consciousness from Strummer. A fine bass line (Watt-Roy, I am sure, but never confirmed) renders it an intoxicating offering, one of the album's unsung heroes. It is a deceptively fine offering. Its barely comprehensible lyrics contain a wealth of great lines - you definitely need the lyric sheet, though.
Any genres yet to be covered? Gospel? No problem. Here we go. On The Sound Of The Sinners, The Clash try their hand at that too on this lively, fun number, assisted by Den Hegarty (who does the Vicar voice at the end too) from doo-wop pop group Darts. You can't help but be lifted by this as Strummer gets into it. To think that a punk group could now be experimenting with stuff like this would have been incomprehensible in 1977. It shows just what a clever guy Joe Strummer was. It is intuitively brilliant.
The album's only truly punk riff can be found on the intro to a tub-thumper, Police On My Back. It is a cover of an Eddy Grant song. Some pretty damn irresistible bluesy jazz is served up on the short, attractive and fast-paced Midnight Log. By now, I'm not surprised by the appearance of stuff like this anymore.
The Equaliser saw more reggae-influence, this time from Strummer. Very dubby in places. It is chock full of dub atmosphere, those funny synth-drum noises and some excellent electric violin enhancement. The vocals are sparse, but that adds to the whole feeling - one of a menacing, late-night urban landscape. It is a song that gets int your system and the refrain of "we don't want no gang boss - we want to equalise..." sticks in your head from the first listen. In many ways, material like this was just as representative of The Clash's sound as White Riot or London Calling. Check out that big rumbling bass - later-era Clash heaven.
Staying political, up there with the albums best cuts, Washington Bullets is full of cynical political comment concerning Latin American/US corruption, based, no doubt, on the Sandinista-Nicaragua-US situation. I have always loved the line "in a war-torn zone, stop any mercenary - check the British bullets in his armoury...".
Possibly the album's most surprising track - Broadway is a totally un-Clash piece of late night, slurry jazzy blues. Who would have thought, three years ago, they would have done stuff like this? "It ain't my fault it's six o'clock in the morning..." groans a totally done-in sounding Strummer as a jazzy reggae beat tiredly kicks in. You feel you have a hangover yourself just listening to it. Beneath its surface torpor lies a great, almost Bowie-esque piece of gold, however. The piano-bass-drum interplay reminds me of Aladdin Sane and Mike Garson's piano. At its end, we are treated to keyboard player Mickey Gallagher's little daughter Maria singing Guns Of Brixton, which provided an unexpected and charming interlude.
A genuine oddity to be found now in that madcap folky fiddler Tymon Dogg sings on his own song, in his distinctive high-pitched wailing voice, backed by The Clash as well as his own violin. Lose This Skin remains one of The Clash's oddest album inclusions. It's ok though, having a vibrant, lively appeal. It's just not really The Clash, is it? Strummer's Vietnam obsession rears its head on Charlie Don't Surf, quoting the movie Apocalypse Now on a shuffling, rhythmic groove. It is a song more popular with others than it is with me, however. Mensforth Hill is where we start to get some filler shoe-horned in. This is a pretty unlistenable backwards version of the instrumentation to Something About England. No need for it whatsoever. Junkie Slip is ok, though, with its loose, shuffling vibe. Strummer's vocal hiccupy, gurgling sounds together with the braying backing vocals are a bit strange, though, and there is a bit of an incomplete feel to it. Despite that, this, and the next two tracks, could easily have replaced Mensforth Hill without anyone really noticing.
The bassy, dubby Kingston Advice is a real underrated diamond in the rough, hidden among the murk of this final phase of the album. So many people overlooked it, including myself. Placed earlier on in the album it would have garnered more of a following and critical acclaim, as it is a good one, with a solid drum backing and bassline. One of the best from the last disc. The same praise as for Kingston Advice can be applied to The Street Parade, also deceptively good and atmospheric track, that featured some solid drums, a hooky chorus and a fine serving of funky saxophone. I really like it. It would have suited the next album quite well. The band weren't quite finished yet.
The album's true last hurrah was found on a lively and catchy mid-paced serving of Clash rock, Version City, a song that once more showcased multiple influences and hints of Train In Vain from the previous album. It is a fetchingly rhythmic piece of bluesy funk with impressive rumbling bass and harmonica swirling around. A last late treat. It was another one that no-one noticed at the time, because nobody (probably quite rightly) played side six.
Actually, I tell a lie, there were three final good dubby ones - firstly Mikey Dread's dub-drenched dub version of If Music Could Talk, titled Living In Shame, it kicks dubby ass too. A dub version of Washington Bullets, Silicone On Sapphire is not quite as good as the previous dub, but actually it's still not too bad. Version Pardner is the dub version of Junco Partner and is also pretty good. So, actually all three dubs are ok.
Mickey Gallagher's two young sons now sing a delightfully child-like version of the debut album's punk classic, Career Opportunities. It is silly but so appealing. I love it, even down to its tinkling piano backing.
Shepherd's Delight is supposedly a dub version of Police And Thieves. I can't hear it myself. It just sounds a mess to me. Its braying farmyard noises were very much influenced by self-proclaimed dub master Lee "Scratch" Perry's work from the era, however. He did it better, though.
Tracks 3, 4 and 6 from this side, together with Mensforth Hill need to not have appeared possibly being replaced by better dubs, such as The Magnificent Dance (the dub version of The Magnificent Seven) or Stop The World (the 'b' side to The Call-Up).
Phew! There you go. How was it for you? There has long been debate as to how to successfully prune the album down, as there was with The Beatles' White Album or George Harrison's All Things Must Pass. In fact, take the original album's first four sides and you've got a great double on your hands. I will also make one final belated case for the dub versions on side six too - back in 1981 people just weren't used to nearly a whole side being made up of such seemingly indulgent "filler" fare but, taken as part of a box set of music these days, where endless demo and alternative versions thrive, they would be accepted far more, for they aren't bad at all. Shepherd's Delight, for example, with its braying farmyard noises, received a severe slagging at the time, but Lee "Scratch" Perry has used similar noises several times and is hailed as a dub master. Mick Jones, albeit slightly tongue-in-cheek, later said that the overflowing album was made for people on oil rigs who couldn't get to a record shop regularly. Whatever, it is certainly a remarkable piece of work. Every time I listen to it, the more I think that it is a work of bloody instinctive genius.
The non-album material from the period included the atmospheric single Bankrobber, with its reggae influences and its dub 'b' side Robber Dub. Also around was Rockers Galore, an addictive number which utilised the Bankrobber rhythm together with vocals from roots reggae artist Mikey Dread about touring with the band.
Other 'b' sides were the muffled vaguely jazzy anti-nuclear protest number, Stop The World (from The Call Up), The Cool Out (an enjoyable instrumental version of The Call Up), Radio One (from Hitsville UK), which has Mikey Dread toasting over a dubby beat for six minutes and The Magnificent Dance, a deep, bongo-driven, funky instrumental version of the single The Magnificent Seven.
There was also the experimental dance/hip-hop of the stand alone single This Is Radio Clash, which had an alternative version of the same song as its b side. The latter is a minute short and is slightly more funky and urgent. Both of them are quirkily impressive, though, as the band changed direction again.
A rarity from 1980 is a cover of the Brenda Holloway song, Every Little Bit Hurts. It was recorded as Jones liked the song, in two takes. For such a incongruous song for The Clash to record, it is done surprisingly well, with Jones on vocals over a nice soulful backing. Heaven knows what people would have thought if this had been released as a single! Norman Watt-Roy of The Blockheads plays a sumptuous bass on it. Neither Joe Strummer or Paul Simonon were involved in its recording.
