A Quick Word Before We Drop the Needle… Right, before we get into the absolute masterclass that is London Calling, a quick bit of housekeeping.
This right here is the 200th article published on the site. Two hundred. I know, I’m genuinely stunned you lot haven’t gotten entirely sick of my opinions yet, and I’m equally shocked I haven’t run out of things to complain about.
So, a massive cheers to everyone who’s been reading these instead of doing whatever it is you’re actually supposed to be doing with your lives. I’d get all emotional and shed a tear, but let’s be honest, sobbing over a keyboard is a terrible look and ruins the aesthetic. I appreciate you all sticking around to read my daily ramblings.
Now, grab a brew, pull up a chair, and let’s tear into The Clash.
Punk
Right, let’s get one thing straight. It’s the tail end of 1979. Punk is supposed to be dead, buried, and rotting in a skip behind a dodgy pub. Most of the original bands are either selling out, breaking up, or sounding like a broken washing machine tumbling down a flight of stairs. Enter The Clash. They don’t just politely release their third album London Calling; they drop a 19 track double LP that basically kicks the door off the hinges and says, “Aye, we can play whatever the hell we want, and we’ll do it better than you.”
London Calling is the sound of four blokes who realised three chords just weren’t enough to change the world anymore. You’ve got reggae, rockabilly, ska, jazz, and straight up, unapologetic rock and roll. And before we even talk about the music, we have to talk about that cover.
Paul Simonon absolutely destroying his Fender Precision Bass at the New York Palladium. It’s a masterclass in visual attitude nicking the pink and green text straight off Elvis Presley’s debut album to take the piss out of rock royalty, while simultaneously creating the greatest, most aggressive rock photograph of all time.
Let’s tear into the tracklist. No skipping, no filler.
Side A: The Warning Shots
1. London Calling
The apocalyptic opener. That minor key bassline sounds like a warning siren for the end of the world. Joe Strummer is barking about a nuclear error, police batons, and zombies with a genuine sense of dread. It’s not just a song; it’s a desperate broadcast from a sinking island. The staccato guitar chops from Mick Jones add to the absolute tension. An absolute belter of a start that grabs you by the throat and refuses to let go.
2. Brand New Cadillac
A Vince Taylor cover, played so fast and furious you’d think the police were chasing them down the M25. It’s pure rockabilly on steroids. Topper Headon’s drumming is frantic, keeping the whole thing from derailing by a millimeter. If your foot isn’t tapping to this, check your pulse because you might actually be clinically dead.
3. Jimmy Jazz
Here’s where they throw a massive, arrogant curveball. Horns? Walking basslines? Whistling? The Clash doing a smoky, late night jazz number? It absolutely shouldn’t work for a punk band, but it’s brilliant. It sounds like they’re hiding out in a damp alleyway trying to dodge the local heavy. And separated the real music fans from the daft purists who only wanted fast punk.
4. Hateful
A bouncy, upbeat pop rock tune with a Bo Diddley beat that completely masks the fact it’s a grim, harrowing warning about drug addiction. That’s the genius of Strummer and Jones they’ll give you a massive chorus you can happily sing in the shower while talking about losing your best mates to a heroin habit.
5. Rudie Can’t Fail
A glorious ska infused stomp about a bloke who flat out refuses to grow up and get a real job. The brass section is absolutely massive here. The vocal interplay between Joe and Mick is pure class. You can practically smell the spilled pints and cheap aftershave. Pure, unfiltered joy pressed into vinyl.
Side B: The Global View
6. Spanish Bombs
Mick Jones takes us on a history lesson about the Spanish Civil War, mixing it up with a critique of modern tourism in Andalusia. He actually sings in Spanish, and while his pronunciation is absolute mince, the melody is so gorgeous you completely forgive him. The acoustic guitars layered underneath give it a beautiful, sweeping texture.
7. The Right Profile
A manic, brass heavy tribute to the tragic Hollywood actor Montgomery Clift. Rumour has it producer Guy Stevens was throwing chairs around the studio to get them fired up, and you can hear it. Strummer sounds half cut, slurring and shouting over a frantic beat. It’s chaotic, weird, and feels like the wheels are going to come off the wagon at any second.
8. Lost in the Supermarket
Mick Jones steps up to the mic for a surprisingly vulnerable tune about consumerism and suburban alienation. Strummer actually wrote the lyrics specifically about Jones’ childhood. The bassline is smoother than butter, sitting perfectly under a pseudo disco beat. It’s proof they weren’t just angry punks shouting into the void; they had proper, refined pop sensibilities.
9. Clampdown
A ferocious, driving anti fascist anthem that starts with a bizarre, spacey intro before dropping into a relentless groove. The guitars sound like heavy machinery grinding away in a grim factory. It’s a direct order to the youth not to sell out to the system and become the very thing you used to hate. Still brutally relevant today, sadly.
10. The Guns of Brixton
Paul Simonon’s baby. He wrote it, he sings it, and he delivers a reggae bassline that is so intensely heavy it could demolish a block of flats. It’s a menacing, cinematic look at police brutality and desperation. The fact that the bass player stepped up to the microphone and dropped this masterpiece is mind blowing.
Side C: The Cinematic Scope
11. Wrong ‘Em Boyo
A cover of the Stagger Lee myth, completely drenched in ska. It’s got a weird, bouncy groove and starts with a horn intro that sounds like it was lifted from a tacky 1950s game show. It’s pure fun, showing that despite the heavy political themes, the band didn’t take themselves too seriously.
12. Death or Glory
The ultimate pub singalong about whether it’s better to burn out or fade away. “Every cheap hoodlum strikes a bargain with the world.” It’s cynical, it’s loud, and the chorus hits like a runaway freight train. It’s a lyrical masterclass from Strummer on the hypocrisy of getting older and selling your soul.
13. Koka Kola
One minute and forty five seconds of relentless critique on advertising, corporate greed, and the music industry itself. It starts with cheesy elevator music before exploding into a frantic, aggressive pace. It’s short, sharp, and leaves you with whiplash. Classic punk ethos, executed with absolute laser precision. Blink and you’ll miss it.
14. The Card Cheat
Phil Spector’s famous “Wall of Sound” gets kidnapped by four punks from London. They literally recorded everything twice to make it sound massive. There are two drum kits playing at the same time, a piano hammering away, and a huge, tragic narrative about a gambler running out of luck. It’s completely bombastic, theatrical, and I love every single second of it.
Side D: The Final Word
15. Lover’s Rock
A genuinely sweet, mid tempo reggae tune about safe sex, birth control, and relationships. Wait, The Clash writing a love song that actually gives practical, mature advice? Aye. And it’s a cracking tune to boot. The groove is incredibly slinky, proving Topper Headon could play absolutely any genre you threw at him.
16. Four Horsemen
Back to the straight up rock and roll. It’s a bit of a self mythologizing track about the band themselves, comparing their arrival to the apocalypse. It’s probably the most standard, straightforward “rock” song on London Calling, but the energy is so raw and unapologetic you don’t even care.
17. I’m Not Down
Mick Jones takes the lead again, delivering a defiant, upbeat anthem about bouncing back from the absolute bottom. The jagged guitar riff is infectious, the layered backing vocals are spot on, and it’s virtually impossible to listen to this without feeling like you can take on the entire world. Pure resilience.
18. Revolution Rock
Over five minutes of loose, dub heavy reggae (a cover of a Danny Ray tune). It feels exactly like a jam session at 3 AM where everyone is absolutely knackered but having far too much fun to stop playing. The organ playing is magic, and Strummer’s improvised vocal ad libs over the fading groove are brilliant.
19. Train in Vain
The hidden track that wasn’t even supposed to be there. They tacked it onto the end of the album at the absolute last minute, meaning it didn’t even make the original sleeve printing. It’s a straight up, Motown style pop breakup song. And it became their biggest hit in America, which is the ultimate irony. A secret pop song sneaked onto the end of a punk double album that ends up taking over the world.
Summary
Look, reviewing London Calling is like trying to review gravity. You don’t really need to explain why it works; it just fundamentally holds the world together. The Clash took a long, hard look at the dying embers of the punk scene, laughed, and decided to write a manifesto for the entire history of 20th century music instead.
London Calling contains 65 minutes of fearless, arrogant, brilliant noise. They proved that you didn’t have to choose between being politically conscious and having a genuinely good time. If you call yourself a music fan, a writer, or just someone with a pulse, and you don’t have this record on your shelf, you’re having a laugh. Go out, buy it on vinyl, stick it on the turntable, drop the needle, and let the greatest rock band of their era show you how it’s actually done.
It’s sublime mastery.
Verdict: 10 / 10
To read more of my album reviews read here.
