“Have I raved enough yet about how indispensably, imperfectly essential the Clash’s Sandinista is? Probably not. Three slabs of vinyl, thirty-six songs, jams, dubs, meltdowns, whatever you want to call them. Not World Music so much as what the world actually sounded like in 1980-81, including war, here-there-everywhere, young men being called up, sent off to do and die. Which is what The Call-Up‘s about (from about halfway through Side Four). Don’t go, young man. Don’t fall for the patriotic bullsh** of old men whose blood won’t be doing the spilling. Remember that rose you want to live for.” (Philip Random)
Second of two in a row from side five of Sandinista! (the Clash’s longest album, if not its best). “To say it was a hard sell to many of their early fans is the definition of understatement. It Was Hated (and still is by some) for being all the things that was truly great about it, which is to say, driven by the ultimately punk attitude of saying f*** it, London Calling’s made us bigger than we ever dreamed of being, let’s see how far we can push things by just diving into the music, all music, anything that interests us, the whole mad street parade. In my particular case, the arrival on the local Terminal City scene of some genuinely strong and clean LSD probably assisted in my seeing things in this regard.” (Philip Random)
First of two in a row from side five of Sandinista, the Clash’s largest album if not its best. London Calling gets all the glory, of course, but there is a serious argument to be made that Sandinista is every bit its equal if only for all the tangents it explores – dubs, re-dubs, versions, visions. As if these four guys (and their various studio compadres) somehow managed to digest the whole weird, wild, primed-to-explode world of 1980 and jam it into six long playing sides of vinyl – not world music so much as what the world actually sounded like. Must be a clash – there’s no alternative.