Evolving from the solid but certain misstep of Give ‘Em Enough Rope into London Calling is nothing short of a miracle. The Clash could’ve plodded along as a solid punk rock band with a few cutting commentaries, but they established themselves as a must-listen act for any generation with London Calling. There’s no escaping the contemporary application of these seething points, the vicious guitar work that still stands up today. Part of the appeal is how relevant these messages, unfortunately, remain. But a huge piece of London Calling that was delivered at the time and remains unchanged comes from the broader scope of the project. A double album with some of the best writing you’ll hear not just from The Clash, but the punk genre. Phony Beatlemania is the buzzword for the title track, but London Calling is a perfect storm that relies on more than just Joe Strummer and Mick Jones’ outstanding read on the dying moments of the 1970s.
Brand New Cadillac, Jimmy Jazz, and Hateful document the changes the band has made not just in the light of their own success, but in how the genre has changed. Sex Pistols’ rise and fall, quick as it was, had a seismic impact on who was entering the punk scene, muddying the message of what The Clash had brought with their self-titled debut. A rip-roaring, guitar-led punch at those around the band and even in the group is what you get on the A-side of London Calling. With all this quality, it’s easy to forget The Clash had already started drifting from their punk roots and into a blur of new wave innovations and tributes to reggae, and ska sounds. You can hear that on Rudie Can’t Fail, and through the saxophone additions on The Right Profile. Protest reins through London Calling but there are some extremely satisfying moments of instrumental skill. Catchy moments like that are constant throughout London Calling, naturally, it’s The Clash after all. But it adds such a crucial layer to their more ambiguous, entertaining songs, like Lost in the Supermarket.
What the band manages to do with songs like Lost in the Supermarket is make the kitchen sink-like dramatics, the everyday shortcomings of life, sound like thrilling occasions. The Clash never once loses their biting appraisal of the world around them on London Calling. Biting social commentaries all the same, like The Guns of Brixton, which feels more like a chance to clear out another urge to create in a new genre than anything else, is a fantastic song even now. Pair it with Wrong ‘Em Boyo and the erratic genre switches feel not just charming, but essential to the overarching point of the album. The Clash were punk stars who drifted from the genre because it no longer aligned with their world view or creative spark, and such a move is something any listener questioning where they are in life should make. It’s a liberation The Clash put together on London Calling.
Scathing blows to the still relevant effects of war, advertising, and cultural decline can be found on London Calling. It’s what, among the finely tuned instrumental risks (as heard on the piano led The Card Cheat, for instance), keeps the album relevant. For all the punk and new wave boisterousness appearing at the start of the album, there’s a delicacy and softness in the latter stages that prevails. Calls for revolution, commentaries on once it’s happened, that’s what London Calling offers. Brilliant instrumental work, the variety on show here from The Clash is as impressive as the lyrical consistencies. A masterstroke to say the least, and it’s all too easy to forget the nuance so heavily featured here when you spend a bit of time away from London Calling.
