A magnificent cultural overlap can be found in just about every city in that post-Beatles phase. The turn of the 1970s offered budding musicians a route not to stardom, but certainly to freedom. It was a way of life which had been popularised and modernised by the likes of The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. If they can do it, so can we, became an attitude rightly adopted by those who wanted to break in, but not fit the mould. Such is the case for The Clash, an aptly named debut album from the Joe Strummer-featuring group. Each of its members had already brushed shoulders with rock and roll royalty in London, be it the better-known Sex Pistols or the hardly remembered London SS. Counterculture, anarchy, it was all prevailing in some little pocket of London. Out of that came The Clash and their self-titled album, one of many albums which were trying, and succeeding, in setting the world to rights off the back of rejecting prog rock and pop music.
Opening song Janie Jones is typical of the punk rock genre, a real boot stomping track of aimless lyrics but a clear direction for the instrumentals. That contrast would be crucial for The Clash, eventually pulled down to something as simple as staying or going on Combat Rock. There’s a harshness to Strummer’s vocals but a sweetness, too. The Clash is a band of contrasts. They may fit the scene of The Pistols and Ramones, but there’s an honesty to their work and the people in the band that cannot be found elsewhere in the scene at the time. Remote Control is not just a lash against all political systems but those in power who are kicking you down, and keeping you there. Fantastic lyrical purpose is what gives The Clash its edge, the instrumentals are welcome extras. I’m So Bored in the U.S.A. feels like a blueprint for punk rock of the times, and it just about hangs with the best of them still.
White Riot is a much stronger song though that plays on the familiar repetition and tinned guitar sound. It works brilliantly, as does the pacing the tracklist provides the better songs. London’s Burning is a nice, early call to arms for those in the capital city to break the headlights of those flashing their high beams. Television is the curse affecting attitudes across the city, and that message still rings with a truth to it now. Timeless commentary was a rarity around this time; it was usually the loudest voice prevailing. That was never an issue though, those same screeching, howling people had enough to say. But The Clash found that fine line between the gruff vocal style of the times and a to-the-point writing style that means Career Opportunities is still as relevant now as it was on first release. Kicked out of the real work, thrown onto the scrap heap, it’s a nasty way to live and it’s getting worse if you poke your head above the smoke for a moment.
The Clash walks a very fine line between inciting violent thought and contemplative, open-hearted honesty. They are not raging against the machine just to fit in, but because they believe there is something that can truly be changed with these roaring instrumentals. Cheat is a magnificent example of this. It’s not enough to survive, you need to know what you want, and when that all falls apart, it’s hard to know where to look or what to do. That’s what The Clash gets so right with their debut effort, and it’s a sentiment which carried through the rest of their works, even Cut the Crap. Brilliantly catchy, punchy pieces of work that still have such a heart to them. It’s hard not to fall in love with everything about this debut record, an album that shows just how the world could be put to rights with the cutthroat quality of well-written music.
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