The Hillsides Ring With 'Free The People'

London Calling side two, pick the arm up, place the needle carefully on the outer ring, let it find the groove, a little static, and then...  Spanish Bombs kicks straight in, Topper's drum salvo followed instantly by organ (played by Mickey Gallagher on loan from The Blockheads) and Mick's guitar line, a crashing, uptempo chord sequence with Joe and Mick doubling up on part of the vocals. Joe had really taken Bernie Rhodes' advice about lyric writing to heart- forget love songs, write about the world- and Spanish Bombs is Srummer at his best, contrasting The Spanish Civil War and 'the days of '39' with the growing tourist industry of the late 1970s, 'Spanish weeks in my disco casino'. The Basque separatist group ETA were active meaning the bombs of the song could be from the 1930s and the 1970s. In the midst of all this imagery, firing out of the speakers with the music piling ever onward, Joe finds space for some really memorable lines, lines about the murdered poet Federico Lorca, a hero of Joe's, killed by Franco's fascists, lines about 'bullet holes in cemetery walls' and 'hearing music from another time' and the chorus in Spanish-

'Spanish bombs, yo te quierro y finito
Yo te querda, oh mi corazón
Spanish bombs, yo te quierro y finito
Yo te querda, oh mi corazón'

                                                               Federico Garcia Lorca

In his novel Powder Kevin Sampson, writing about a fictional rock band in the 90s based loosely (or closely) on The Verve, has a character explain that the tune for Saturday Night (by Whigfield, an international pop- house hit in 1994) and Spanish Bombs are the same- you can sing the words of one over the other. Since discovering this I have never, ever got tired of singing Spanish Bombs over Saturday Night. 

After Spanish Bombs comes The Right Profile, Joe throwing his subject matter net wider still with a song about movie heart throb Montgomery Clift. The song begins the staccato stabs of Mick's guitar and a hi- hat, Joe reeling off the films Clift starred in- 'say, where'd I see this guy? In Red River? A Place In The Sun? Maybe The Misfits? From Here To Eternity?'

                 Montgomery Clift (left, seated) with The Misfits including Clark Gable (right) and Marilyn Monroe (duh) 

Montgomery had a car crash that left him with a broken jaw and facial scarring. He'd hit a tree leaving a party at Liz Taylor's, pumped full of pills and booze. From then on he'd only be photographed from the correct side and angle, from the right profile. Producer Guy Stevens had given Joe a biography of Clift and suggested he write a song about the star's life. Joe, no stranger to drugs and alcohol himself, wrote about the last ten years of Clift's life, from the crash in 1956 to his death in 1966, a death some called the slowest suicide in cinematic history. Mick arranges the group and has The Irish Horns swinging about all over the place, everyone speeding up and slowing down, veering left and right, Paul and Topper driving things like Clift's car with Joe garbling and gurgling the words over the top, breaking down completely for the 'nembutal/numbs it all/but I prefer/alcohol' part. Joe gives voices to the crowd standing and staring- ' And everybody says'what's he like?', 'is he alright?/ can he still feel?' and 'it's not funny/that's Montgomery Clift honey!'. No other band, certainly none of the class of '77 could have written this, the music or the words. 'Go get me my old movie stills/Go out and get me another roll of pills/There I go shaking again but I ain't got the chills'. Poor Monty. 

Side two, track three is Lost In The Supermarket. Near Joe's flat in the World's End Estate was a supermarket, the International (numbers 471- 473 King's Road). After a disorienting late night shopping visit Joe went home and wrote Lost In The Supermarket, a song about the alienating effects of capitalism, commercialisation and the way the world depersonalises the individual- Joe only came in for a special offer, 'guaranteed personality' and left bewildered and broken. Mick wrote a lovely, slick tune for the song, a gliding chord sequence. The rhythm section, led by Topper's brilliant drumming, complement it completely. Joe sings about the suburbs (where he'd lived) and life in high rise flats (where Mick lived with his Nan, overlooking the Westway). As the song grooves on, a smidgen of disco in the drumming and guitars, Joe develops his theme-

'I'm all tuned in, I see all the programs
I save coupons for packets of tea
I've got my giant hit discotheque album
I empty a bottle, I feel a bit free

The kids in the halls and the pipes in the walls
Makes me noises for company
Long distance callers make long distance calls
And the silence makes me lonely'

Joe gave the song to Mick to sing, a gift, saying he wrote it partly with Mick in mind. From intro to fade out Mick sings and plays beautifully and Paul's bass playing is streets ahead of where he was two years previously.

Three magnificent songs into side two and there are a pair of songs to come that are as good as anything the band ever did. Clampdown opens with a squeal of feedback, the tsk- tsk- tsk of Topper tapping the cymbal and Mick bawling '1-2-3-4' off mic before the descending riff plays through for a few bars. Joe mutters over the top, words that are almost inaudible-

'The kingdom is ransacked
The jewels all taken back
And the chopper descends
They're hidden in the back
With a message written on a half-baked potato
The spool goes 'round
Saying I'm back here in this place
And I could cry
And there's smoke you could click on'

... and then the smoke clears, leaving Topper's boom thwack boom thwack, Mick counting everyone back in again and then the question 'what are we gonna do now?!'

Joe answers with a song about the rise of the far right, the dignity and indignity of labour, the crushing of youthful dreams and becoming what you once stood against, conformity and coercion, and a final part about 'evil presidentes getting their due'. The band are on fire, fully amped up, Mick leading the charge, and the effect is electrifying. Paul's bass playing is upfront and centre, especially in the remastered version from Sound System. Joe and Mick trade lines, call and response, intuitively- the segue from Mick's spoken middle eight to Joe coming back in with the 'But you grow up and you calm down' is hair raising. 

It's worth pulling a few of Joe's lines out, starting with the astonishing first line of the first verse-

''Taking off his turban 
They said 'is this man a Jew?' ''

Joe follows it with 'they put up a poster saying 'we earn more than you', the divide and conquer politics of the far right dissected in a few lines.

''We will teach our twisted speech
To the young believers
We will train our blue-eyed men
To be young believers"

Forty years on from the National Front's resurgence we're right back where we were. The racists and immigrant scapegoaters that have dragged our politics and public life into the gutter over the last decade are still at it, people now emboldened by the rise of the populist scaremongers. If as he said last week the Clash are his favourite band it's pretty clear that Boris Johnson wasn't listening to the words. 

'No man born with a living soul
Can be working for the clampdown'

Joe urges the youth not to give in, not to fall in line, warning them of the older generation- 

'The men at the factory are old and cunning
You don't owe nothing, boy, get running
It's the best years of your life they want to steal'

He also warns of being co-opted by them- 

'So you got someone to boss around
It make you feel big now
You drift until you brutalise
Make your first kill now'

The song was originally called Working And Waiting and the lyrics must have started as a warning about the grim realities of work. School leavers in the 70s were factory fodder and with the destruction of manufacturing industry and rising unemployment even that vanished.  As the song fades out and the group bash away Joe and Mick continue to hammer it home, 'work, work, work/ I give away no secrets/ work, work, more work, more work'. A major piece of work by Joe (the words) and Mick (the tune) and the group rise to the occasion pulling together a hard rocking song to match the lyrics. In a way it's a much an epic in its scope as (White Man In) Hammersmith Palais was a year before or Straight To Hell would be a few years later. 

Clampdown

In 1980 The Clash played Lewisham Odeon, with this blistering take of Clampdown recorded on film. Is there a better sight in rock 'n' roll than the moment at fifty two seconds where the three frontmen, all in black, step up to the mic to bellow the first line in unison?



Also in 1980 they played New York (a whole other story) and appeared on the TV show Fridays where they put everything- absolutely everything- into this performance of Clampdown.



Sometime during the recording of Give 'Em Enough Rope Paul realised that the money came from songwriting and during the rehearsal sessions at Vanilla brought in a song, initially known as Paul's Tune. It would become The Guns Of Brixton. Someone wrote somewhere that The Guns Of Brixton contains the greatest bassline of the Twentieth Century. Over this thundering, reggae inspired bass Mick adds some texture, some scratchy guitar and Topper splashes the cymbals. The sound of the studio chairs having their Velcro ripped apart is in there too. Joe was given an early version of the lyrics, which Paul wasn't sure about, and Joe encouraged him to work on them. When the words were finished and the music recorded Joe was given the lyric sheet but handed it back to Paul, saying he should sing it. Paul sings/shouts his words, South London style, a song about police brutality and the ghetto, suffering and surviving. He then brings in Ivan from The Harder They Come- 'you see he feels like Ivan/ born under the Brixton sun/ his game is called surviving/ at the end of The Harder They Come'. The dub rhythm swings and lurches, Paul throwing the bass around, moving from one foot to the other. The Guns Of Brixton sounds massive, filling the room when played loud. It is one of the most enduring of the songs off London calling, the bassline reverberating through pop culture as a sample and a cover version. The perfect way to close side two, under heavy manners. 

There are five songs on side two, five standouts, five album tracks better than most band's singles. They must have known how good they were when sequencing the album. It has flow, range and depth, showcases their quality as songwriters, inventiveness as players and Joe's unique abilities as a lyricist. 

As much as London Calling is an album about the world in 1979, the state of things in London and the faraway towns, it's also an album about people and their lives, the way they respond and react to the world, a world which kicks them and brutalises them and threatens to flood their homes. It's an album about Jimmy Jazz and Rudie, the narrator of Hateful and his dealer, Federico Lorca, Montgomery Clift, Ivan and Joe dazed and confused under the supermarket striplights. The Clash were a people band, they did things for their fans (letting them into gigs for free, not over charging them for albums, not stripmining albums for singles) and they wanted to reach as many people as possible. Writing about people was what they did. As Joe pointed out much later 'without people you're nothing'. 

In a few days- side three.