2022 marks two key anniversaries for The Clash. Firstly, for the surviving members and fans of the band, Dec. 22nd marks 20 solemn years since the death of The Clash’s frontman, rhythm guitarist, and co-lead songwriter Joe Strummer. Right as it seemed that Strummer, lead guitarist and co-songwriter Mick Jones, bassist Paul Simonon, and drummer Topper Headon were on the verge of reforming, Strummer suddenly passed away.
The second anniversary of-note for The Clash this year is the 40th anniversary of Combat Rock, which was released on May 14th, 1982. Combat Rock was the band’s breakthrough album; it reached #2 on the UK charts, and two of the album’s singles, “Rock the Casbah” and “Should I Stay or Should I Go” were both hits and remain staples of rock radio. However, the album ended up being the last of their “classic albums.” Headon was fired around the album’s release despite composing most of “Rock the Casbah” and Jones was dismissed amid a power struggle engineered by the band’s dictatorial manager Bernie Rhodes.
The corpse of The Clash, under Rhodes’ auspices, went on to release one final album, 1985’s Cut the Crap. Todd in the Shadows’ takedown of the album is quintessential in grasping how disastrous the album was, but beyond it being terrible music, there’s something profoundly sad about it too, something that makes the album beyond ridicule dispute the ridiculous music. A titan of the punk explosion of the late 70s that pushed the genre’s boundaries into reggae, funk, disco, and rap in the 80s had been reduced to punk rock caricatures. The title, the album art, the songs – does a song titled “Dirty Punk” sound authentic to you? – is something out of a children’s cartoon stereotyping punk rock. It’s completely devoid of the punk spirit of reclaiming rock ‘n’ roll from degenerate art rockers.
Love them or not, The Clash deserved to finish their career on an album including Jones and Headon where the music comes from a place of passion rather than a talentless manager’s hackjob. Strummer’s death prevented any reunion from this being rectified, so as far as most are concerned, Combat Rock is the last “true” Clash album.
Combat Rock was my first encounter with The Clash, an encounter when I was an eleven year-old burgeoning metalhead. Before driving to my grandmother’s house on a Sunday afternoon, my dad allowed me to pick a CD out of his collection. Oblivious to most of my available choices, I picked Combat Rock; its militaristic name and typography, plus the name of the band implied the same aggression which attracted me to heavy metal. To my chagrin, the album was way softer than I had expected. We couldn’t have listened to more than three songs before my dad turned it off.
Nearly a decade later, my perennial quest to complete my musical education and listen to every rock artist and album considered quintessential eventually brought me to The Clash, and frustratingly, though my knowledge of music is far deeper now, my feelings about the band haven't changed all that much. The reasons that I find my inability to love The Clash so disappointing are twofold.
First, because of just how widely acclaimed they are. London Calling, for a start, is often considered one of the greatest albums of all time; Rolling Stone infamously declared it the best album of the 80s despite its Dec. 1979 UK release, and subsequently ranked it as the 16th best album of all time in 2020. Marketed by CBS Records as “The Only Band That Matters,” the press ran with it, likely due to their political aesthetics. To this day, articles and documentaries about The Clash alike harken back to CBS’ marketing.
And though few will earnestly believe that The Clash, or any other band, are the only band that matters, my metalhead sensibilities can’t help but take offence at such a notion; how can only one band matter when there are so many great bands out there? How can only one band matter when the history of popular music is defined by musical acts taking inspiration and deriving their art from one another? And if only one band matters, is that band really The Clash?
Furthermore, there is a lot I appreciate about the band, but much of that is disconnected from the music itself. The band took principled stands when it came to the music business; they negotiated to have London Calling (a double album) and Sandanista! (a triple album) to be sold for the price of a single LP, foregoing a significant amount of revenue in exchange. Likewise, they fought to have tickets for their concerts listed at reasonable levels. These actions make me believe the band’s socialism was genuine and not just an aesthetic or an act, something critical considering The Clash’s uncompromisingly political identity.
The Clash’s eclecticism, which helped expand the musical vocabulary of English-language guitar pop, is also venerable. Their love of reggae, dub, funk, disco, and early hip hop laid key foundations across the musical landscape. It also meant that their albums, particularly from London Calling onwards, are always surprising, as the band was constantly consuming different music and experimenting thusly.
I think my biggest issue with the band is just a sheer lack of musical aggression. The Clash are about as heavy as the Ramones were, which is to say they made easy-sounding pop rock. It’s not coincidental that there are no songs from the first two Clash albums on the above list; the sociopolitical convictions of The Clash that made them into The Only Band That Matters are displayed on song titles like “Hate & War” and “I’m So Bored With the U.S.A.” but they sound soft. Where’s the blistering rage implied by a band titled The Clash? A band like the Ramones instead were completely honest – they wrote mild, fun music for the sake of it, and they were really good at it too. Simply, The Clash’s inflamed aesthetic and themes were wrongly married to their melodic musical sensibilities.
This isn’t to say popular music can’t be simultaneously political and successful. Artists ranging from John Lennon to Bob Marley to Sting to Chuck D to George Clinton wed their convictions on war, racial injustice, economic inequality, and colonialism to accessible sing-along music that fit their ferocious convictions, something which The Clash was able to occasionally do. Despite my reservations. “London Calling,” “The Guns of Brixton,” “Train in Vain (Stand by Me),” “The Magnificent Seven,” and “Rock the Casbah” are delightful. When I hear those songs, I start thinking to myself that I must have missed something about The Clash, because how could a band who made five great songs be so underwhelming otherwise?
Everything about The Clash makes them a band that I should love. I admire their consistent opposition to the greed of the music industry, I think their lyrical themes are often still poignant to this day and I adore their rebellious aesthetic – I love their name, their fashion sensibilities, and their art; the cover photograph of London Calling is rightfully legendary and the jingoism of Combat Rock drew me in even as a kid. And despite all of my aforementioned criticism, I don’t even think they were a bad band. But the musical press perhaps got so lost in their message that they forgot to fairly rate the music.