Douglas Laman Gets A Tune-Up (Entry #6): The Clash by The Clash

DOUGLAS LAMAN GETS A TUNE-UP

ENTRY #6: The Clash by The Clash

Douglas Laman Gets A Tune-Up is a series of essays wherein Douglas Laman listens to an album of music he's never fully listened to before (though he may have heard one or two songs from it) and writes up his brief thoughts on it. 

Rock n' roll has taken on many different forms over the years, with each generation bringing something new to the table in terms of thematic content and instrumental composition that differentiates themselves from the past. But in its many forms, there's always been one common thread linking the various incarnations of rock n' roll; rebellion. From the time rock n' roll as we know it really took off in the mid-20th century, the artform has been always known as something meant to raise a middle finger to authority and provide an outlet for frustration at conventionality, structure and all other things that listeners felt were hindering their full potential.



The assorted takes on rock n' roll over the years vary in quality (I'm more partial to the works done in this genre in the 60's-80's, but there's plenty of high-quality modern work being created to be sure) but it must be said that few bands exemplified the very concept of rebellion like the UK band The Clash. These guys debuted on the scene in 1977 (us Yankee blokes would have to wait until 1979 to get out hands on a proper domestic release of the album) with their very first album titled after the band itself, The Clash. For those wondering if The Clash sauntered onto the music scene with an oh so distinctive personality in tow, the answer is quite simply a resounding yes.

Though there is a level of variety found in the music in the album (Wikipedia specifically mentions "reggae and early rock n' roll influences are evident" throughout the album, though no source is given so, uh, Citation Needed folks), there is a singular emotion that is found throughout the various tracks of the album; pent-up rage and fury. It's like this band had collected up a lifetime supply of frustration at all sorts of different targets throughout their entire lives up to that point and were now getting the chance to finally vent all of those irritations that, hey, wouldn't you know it, plenty of other people across the planet also were experiencing.

As the album starts out with Janie Jones, so named after a popular singer of the era, this unifying emotion of the album becomes apparent as the song tells of a man who likes getting stoned, drunk and the titular singer but he most certainly doesn't like his hum-drum job with the lyrics going into detail on just how much the man this tune chronicles wants to let his boss know exactly how he feels (he feels "pretty bad", for the record). The tune basically serves as a wish fulfillment fantasy for its listeners, one where those enjoying The Clash's rock n' roll tunes can live vicariously through these lyrics description of telling off your superiors and rebelling against the establishment that's tying you down.

The Clash really did know just how to tap into universal frustrations and use said frustrations as the backbone for killer rock tracks. It isn't just anxieties related to small-in-scale entities like jobs and what not that serve as the basis for these songs though as evidenced by the third track on the album, I'm So Bored With The USA, which has The Clash turning their sights onto an entire country, the United States Of America. Joe Strummer (one of two lead vocalists for the band, the other being Mick Jones) doesn't hold back as he vents his dissatisfaction with various aspects of American culture, including then topical political events like the Watergate Tapes. Considering that even blue-blooded Americans were becoming disillusioned with their home country in the wake of so many Earth-shattering political events, it's no wonder a song like this one was able to gain notoriety well beyond its European-based home of origin.

The level of memorability that emerges from the evocative rebellious nature of tunes like the one described above can be heavily chalked up to the two lead vocalists of this band, Joe Strummer and Mick Jones. These two really know how to convey vocally a genuine-sounding sense of rage, confusion, maybe an ounce of fear in their but mostly a sense of disenchantment with the world around them. That's a style of singing that works like gangbusters for the various tracks here, especially on something like What's My Name that really requires the person singing it to be able to musically sell a relatable sense of frustration.

As the album winds down, The Clash most certainly does not let up, setting their sight on ripping apart other sacred cows with one of their final tunes, Police & Thieves, which is lyrically all about one of rock n' roll's most recurring figures of admonishment, law enforcement officers. Similar to what N.W.A. would be doing with their own music a decade later, the tune is all about the singer professing of the dangers and violence in his country that he see's stemming from an overly weaponized and hostile police force. In an artistically bold move, nearly an entire minute of the song is devoted to just repeating the word police over and over again, which does eventually take on an eerie sort of quality. That's The Clash for ya; they don't risk playing things safe and by going bold in their musical and lyrical choices, they're able to come up with fresh new music like this album The Clash that expand the horizons of what rock n' roll can accomplish.