¡Yo te quiero infinito! 40 years of London Calling

In the first few seconds of the first song on London Calling (1979), The Clash drags you into a punk post-apocalypse and refuses to let you go. The title track is a statement, a story, a prophecy, and an irreverent bite at the then-current state of the youth, either rebelling for the sake of rebelling or indifferent. The echoes of the band’s screams, the guitar solo, and the line “But I have no fear, cause London is drownin’, I, live by the river!” emphasizes the lack of care for the insanity and confusion of the current state of the world. Mick Jones’s expert guitar work, Paul Simonon’s electrifying bass playing, Topper Headon’s tight but effortless drumming, and Joe Strummer’s half-oration, half-siren immediately tell you what you are in for: a rock and roll tour de force by a band at the height of their powers. 

Forty years ago punk rock was already giving way to New Wave and the sounds of the coming decade. However, The Clash’s eclectic strain of genre-bending rock was reaching its climax, and London Calling is the quintessential expression of this whirlwind of music in England. 

This album, despite the iconic cover art, is not a harsh, homogeneous, pure punk rock record by any means. It has that energy, that excitement, but is also groomed, well-produced, at some points heavenly and at others hellish. “London Calling” may send a grim message, urged by the “nuclear error” at Three Mile Island in 1979, but the following rocker “Brand New Cadillac” and the laid back “Jimmy Jazz” assure you that the album’s journey is all over the musical map. Few artists since The Beatles, who’s mania the Clash irreverently eulogize in the title track, have managed to cover so much musical and conceptual ground as the Clash attempt and succeed in doing here. In many ways the most punk thing The Clash ever did was raising the middle finger to the punk purists. Assaulting ears with multicultural expansion that infinitely elaborated on what punk is exposed the seldom-reached potential of punk. 

The Clash had always had a propensity towards broader musical experimentation, including a punk cover of reggae singer Junior Murvin’s “Police and Thieves” on The Clash (1977), but on London Calling is perfected along with multiple other styles the Clash toss into the stew.  “Rudie Can’t Fail” follows the narrative of the young man from “Safe European Home,” creating a Beatlesque self-referential meta-story while tying in cultural and social issues of race, class, and identity that act as major themes throughout the album. “Rudie” also refers to the rude boys of 1960’s Jamaica, where these well-dressed rebels stood up to local elders and celebrated ska music that greatly influenced The Clash. “Jimmy Jazz” is a story about someone on the run from the law, with some playful sax, piano, and some bells and whistles that make for a sound as joyous as a thief’s successful evasion of the police. In this reggae vein we also have “Guns of Brixton,” the first piece solely composed by bassist Paul Simonon. Becoming one of the album’s most popular pieces, sound effects abound as the bass and drums bounce back and forth with Paul’s paranoid narration. Simonon’s commentary contrasts the more carefree view of the “London Calling” narrator, giving the view of someone who probably lives a little further from “the river,” who would have to deal with the violence that the end times would very likely bring.

Another major theme across the album is a broader history, based on The Clash’s experiences as Englishmen and the enduring effects of historical events. One of my personal favorites in The Clash’s catalogue is “Spanish Bombs,” a reflection of the rarely taught part of European history preceding World War Two: the Spanish Civil War. Alongside multiple allusions to Iberian atrocities and anti-fascist poet Federico Lorca, Strummer’s lyrics reflect on the British tourism of Spain, at the time only recently freed from fascist control. 

If London Calling is the most succinct statement of the Clash’s beliefs and ideals, then “Clampdown” may be their biggest critique of “the system” on the largest scale. Pointing out the hypocrisies and suffering under both capitalism and fascism, The Clash condemn both the steel mills of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania and the Soviet Union’s St. Petersburg. If there is a solution to the issue of monotonous work and the existential waste of life described here, The Clash’s most clear answer to the listener is the punk idea: “You don’t owe nothin’; Boy get running!” The listener always has the power to fight, and in some cases that can be clamped down upon, but better to die alive than to live dead. Even in the “free world,” consumerism run amok and general apathy, the concepts described in “Koka Kola” and “Lost In The Supermarket,” have lead to a loss in belief in the individual’s power to affect change. This message of choice, opportunity, and real freedom is really the core of punk rock, part of that spirit of rock and roll that is hopeful and maybe a little overly optimistic, but wholesome and genuine. 

The Clash are willing to be so idealistic, as the last few songs on the album illustrate. “I’m Not Down” does show their understanding of the real roughness of the unwelcoming world, but Mick Jones’s resolve is to keep fighting. Nowadays little secrets put at the end of records have to be included on the end of the last track, but back then The Clash packed a last little surprise onto this beast of an album. “Train In Vain” was under cover, not listed on the sleeve, included after the artwork had been sent to the printer.It is a nice little present after the ending jam “Revolution Rock” and, though a lyrical standout as a love song, acts as a great musical ending to a nearly perfect record.

Forty years later, this nineteen-song double album still rocks wildly, rolls beautifully, and thoroughly justifies The Clash’s enduring legacy as the greatest punk band of all time. With lyrical wit, musical expertise, political idealism, and youthful vigor, London Calling reminds us to open our minds and hearts to music from another time, and to keep on keeping on.

Article by Stanley Quiros