The eighties was a lily-white decade, like the fifties but with more keyboards and hairspray. At the dawn of the decade, just getting Michael Jackson (!) onto MTV almost required those federal troops it took to integrate Little Rock, Arkansas back in '57. So it was on my radio. My favourite station was 92 Citi-FM, whose playlist consisted of shirtless white guys, bellowing, soloing and generally rockin' out in manner in which Homer Simpson would approve. Then, Eddy Grant's Caribbean-rocker, "Electric Avenue" got added into medium rotation. I won't claim it met immediate approval but it made me stop and try to wedge this song into my perception of CLASSIC...ROCK! (imagine cheap echo effect here, please.) A couple years later, following my punk repudiation of all things Classic Rock, I puzzled over Eddy's authorship of "Police on My Back", the greatest Moment on the Clash's frequently-mystifying 198o album "Sandinista!". (Live version from the Clash's 1982 show in Jamaica here) Then, in the late eighties, following his infectious "Give Me Hope Johanna", a TV interview (here and here) showed Grant to be shrewd and multi-talented but more crucially introduced me to the Equals. The Equals, a multi-racial English band, brought Grant to fame in the late sixties with their Carib-classic "Baby Come Back". (Video here.) Later still, at the record store where I worked (in the E.T.C. room, where every genre not Rock/Pop or Classical/Jazz got stuck - previously) a play copy of the compilation, First Among Equals materialized. These two discs showed a musician in almost constant transition.From the proto-Two Tone ska of "Baby Come Back" to the garage rock of "I Won't Be There" to the bubblegum of "Viva Bobby Joe", to the soul workout "I'm a Poor Man" to the light psychedelia of "Michael and the Slipper Tree" and the Motown funk of "Black-Skinned Blue-Eyed Boys" it's an enthralling listen. Even at an overly-long two hours, this set still aptly illustrates how Grant, before his time spray painting those white eighties hitlists, once lead a band that could do damn near anything.
This collection (with it's non-punctuated, non-chronological and just plain non-sensical liner notes) is long out of print as all Equals material appears to be.
Recently, I told my father (a retired seventy-something philosophy professor and disavowed leftist) that I’d gone to see a Bob Dylan concert. He asked, “So are his songs about Iraq and Afghanistan now?”
In a knee-jerk response, I said, “Bob Dylan hasn’t written a protest song since 1964.”
Glib and a bit suspect. (“Au contraire, mon frere,” someone will comment, “what about “George Jackson", “Hurricane” and …uh…“TV Talkin’ Song”?”) However, it is true that his Dylan, the old black and white, finger-pointin’ Dylan of '63-'64, turned out to be just a fleeting facet of the man.
Everyone* has their own Dylan. Dylanologists (and, of course, Todd Haynes) have over the years, delineated these variegated Dylan archetypes (traditionalist, protest singer, rocker, country crooner, gypsy, Christian, hack, old cowboy etc.) which everyone is free to warp into their own one and only Dylan. Witness the depths that Jann Wenner of Rolling Stone and Sean Curnyn at Right Wing Bob will plumb to twist Dylan’s every twitch into a signal of allegiance to their own political vision. (As Joan Baez, in No Direction Home, informs those who ask if Bob will come and join their cause. “He never comes, you moron. When are you gonna get it?")
My own Dylans are a hopeless mish-mash. At the age of ten “Gotta Serve Somebody” played alongside “You Don’t Bring me Flowers Anymore” and “I Will Survive” on my cheap transistor radio. At eleven, a cassette of Greatest Hits smeared together the earliest Dylans for an awkward pre-adolescent. Following a plunge into fundamentalist Christianity, I bought a used LP of Saved and topped it off with the, then-current, Knocked out Loaded. That duo – a gospel album and a hodgepodge – cooled me on Dylan for years. But, much later, I came back, and devoured his entire catalog – finding the wheat even in the chaff-ridden albums. I concluded that with each Dylan being rewarding (even if some are much less so) that picking a single favourite is an affront to the man's work.
However, pushes turning to shoves, that stark, earnest, tune-pilfering Dylan of the early sixties is damn compelling for me. This is the Dylan of my father (a man who has ignored Bob for forty-some years yet can still recite whole verses of “The Times They Are A-Changin'”).
One crucial favourite of this era is “When the Ship Comes In” from The Times They-Are-A-Changin’. This hard-charging battle anthem seems to be about civil right but is in fact all about personal indignation. Joan Baez says after Bob, in all his scruffiness, was turned away from a hotel he wrote the song in a fury. It’s a short jump from the belligerence of this song’s, “Then they'll raise their hands/Sayin' we'll meet all your demands/But we'll shout from the bow your days are numbered” to “Positively 4th Street’s”, “You got a lotta nerve/To say you got a helping hand to lend/You just want to be on/The side that's winning”. That anger, open or hidden, is one of the many constants in all of Dylan's guises.
In the end, each of the facets are of a piece; there is no Dylan but Dylan.
“There was a time in my life when I fervently wanted to be Bob Dylan. Then I realized that practically everyone else in the world wanted to be Bob Dylan, too, and that even if we all got our wish, being Bob Dylan would be so common that it would be completely meaningless to be Bob Dylan even for the actual original Bob Dylan and the world would end up exactly the same as it was before.”
Here for your listening pleasure, possibly, are twenty two different versions of "When the Ship Comes In."
Bob Dylan
In 1963 at Carnegie Hall Dylan gave one of those the rambling introductions (“There are crueller Goliaths…”) that would later get him in trouble and then tore into the song, throwing a punk snarl into the consonants. Video (March on Washington) here.
The Hillmen
The phoniness that oozes from the living corpse named David Crosby may taint the Byrds for some but Chris Hillman, on the other hand, has a history including once leading this sterling bluegrass band (alongside future country star Vern Gosdin) who in 1964 effortlessly thrust the song back to another time and geography.
Arlo Guthrie
This live version from 1994 , with Pete Seeger (supposedly), feels laboured as Arlo’s Dylanesque voice (which he possess for very good reason) clashes with an inflated lite-rock arrangement.Video here
The Silkie
Underwhelming vocals and half-hearted accompaniment on this 1965 version of the song make this band sound like a wa-a-a-y too polite version of the (already pretty damn polite) Seekers. Video here
Billy Bragg
Bragg's recent version of the song gives it a slightly mournful take, akin to Dylan’s later-period sad readings of “The Times They-are-a Changin’”, which is a shame as the world could use a clanging solo-electric guitar version like Bragg did for that damn "Times...." song.
Clancy Brothers with Tommy Makem
That hammy introduction (“You never thought you’d hear Dylan with an Irish accent did you?”) for this version of the song from 1992's 30th Anniversary Concert reminds us that the Clancy’s are actors who bring a broad, theatrical feel to the song, perhaps bringing the song back to it’s roots in the song “Pirate Jenny” from Bertolt Brecht’s Three Penny Opera. Video here.
Carl Marcus Franklin
In his 2007 film, I'm Not There, director Todd Haynes cast Franklin to portray Dylan as a pre-teen African American named Woody and the young actor digs into the song's gospel elements .Video here
Coal Porters
While this band, led by former Long Ryder and author Sid Griffin (who did justice to the Clash's “Something About England on the Sandanista Project - previously) may not have created the lost Byrds version they aspire to this 2001 version still stands as a fitting tribute to Chris Hillman's take on the song.
Hugues Aufray
Le Jour où le Bateau Viendra is a translation by French, (“French from France” as a good Franch-Canadian would specify) singer and Dylan pal, Aufray who gives the song a more heroic but still faithful read.
Idlewild
Idlewild go all sad n’ piano here for a version that will (for a lucky few) recall singer Roddy Woomble’s stunning solo album, My Secret is my Silence(which might better Idlewild’s tense but melodic sophomore 2000 album 1,000 Broken Windows from which this song is a b-side.)
Lionsong
It’s 1979 – the Clash have unleashed London Calling, Daniel Amos are preparing to break Christian rock free of the Eagles grasp with Horrendous Disc and somewhere there still existed this freeze-dried Mighty-Wind Christian folk band (not-to-be-missed album available here) full of banjo and church-choir break-it-down sections.
Mark Haines and Tom Leighton
In 2002 this East Coast Canadian folk duo did a fine accordion and tin whistle take on the song which has clearly become a Celtic standard thanks to the Clancy Brothers.
Totta & Wiehe
Totta Näslund, a veteran Swedish rocker, died of liver cancer in 2005 just before finishing an album of Dylan songs including this one of When the Ship Comes In (apparently a Euro-Dylan favourite) translated to Swedish (as När Vårt Skepp Slår Til) with Mikael Wiehe.
Peter, Paul, Mary
This trio was always disparaged for sanitizing Dylan (didn’t the Byrds do that too?) and this bouncy, yet sincere 1965 cover will not change anyone’s views on a group who are as static as Dylan is mercurial. Video here
The Pogues
Hampered a bit by trying so hard to sound like their earlier selves, this Shane McGownless-less, but Joe Strummer-fortified (previously), version of the Pogues circa 1996 do get the closest to doing a punk rock version of this song (albeit with heavy tin whistle).
Steve Gibbons
Okay.
Next.
The Hollies
Not only did the Hollies do a Dylan covers album as late as 1968 (it’s wretchedness causing Graham Nash to quit and inflict Crosby, Stills and Nash upon an unsuspecting world) but the syrupy arrangement here makes the Slkie sound like the Stooges. Video here
Roky Erickson (13the Floor Elevators.)
Like many Roky semi-bootlegs, this rough demo of uncertain date sounds like someone paid a derelict a mickey to sing into an old boombox. Yet, in his madness, Roky gets an apocalyptic death grip on the song that both Brecht and the Dylan of ’64 would understand.
Bruce T. Holmes
Ineffectually nice.
Barry McGuire and Terry Talbot
Y’know, Barry gets a lot of grief for Green, Green, Eve of Destruction and a batch of tepid Christian folk albums (including this one from 1995) but that gritty voice is a biting instrument that can give strength to even his, almost invariably, weak material.
The Golden Gate Strings
Their web-site says, “Come and hear the Golden Gate Strings and see how this exciting ensemble can add incomparable eleganceMuzak to receptions, fundraisers, weddings and corporate events. “
Bob Dylan (with Ron Wood and Keith Richards)
Here, in all its shambolic glory is the Live Aid version from 1985 with the rambling, heretical, introduction that kept Dylan on the outs with the cultural cognoscenti for a decade. In all fairness, Bob Geldof had it coming, as does anyone else whothinks that Dylan meet will meet their expectations. Video here.
If you truly believe you can withstand twenty-two versions in a row of the same songhere is the compilation in its entirety (for preview purposes only to be deleted from your computer in 24 hours etc. etc.)
The Black Freighter panel above is from the Watchmen graphic novel from Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons - the first chapter of which is titled "At Midnight, All the Agents..." after the line in "Desolation Row" plus chapter ten is called "Two Riders Were Approaching" after the final line of "All Along the Watchtower".
Accompanied Withis a completist’s boot of all of Joe’s collaborations with artists like Jimmy Cliff, Black Grape, The Levellers, Brian Setzer, Long Beach Dub All-Stars, Flea, the Violent Femmes and, of course, a shwackload more.
"Bankrobber" as an a capella folksong by Chumbawamba is a great idea even if the band members once dumped a bucket of red paint on Joe Strummer.
"Charlie Don’t Surf" as covered by Vancouver’s Sarcastic Mannequins (here) must be heard.
Generationsbootlegs Strummer’s so-called wilderness years – almost an alternative Best-Of compilation (minus the hideous“Baby O Boogie ” – a real career low).
Here's the Streetdogs, "The General’s Boombox" wherein a street-punk band growls it’s approval of Joe.
Isaw Attila the Stockbroker at The Norwood (a grubby little bar in the French area of town) where he railed against the Coors banner he played under – just the kind of self-foot-shooting-principle Strummer (whom he pays tribute to here on "Commandante Joe") would’ve stood up for.
Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros Live at the Bridgewater Palace was posted at Control Total.
"Last of the Mohicans" by the loony John Otway is always a delight.
Misheard lyrics (for "Complete Control") is the funniest thing ever made for Youtube.
TheNational do "Clampdown" and it’s not like they sucked the energy out of it (like the Strokes) or made it earnest (like the Indigo Girls) or made it even even throatier (like Hot Water Music) they just added a brooding menace.
Rancid really love the Clash and their Joe-supporting helped him end on a high note.
Sandanista Project – This remake of Sandanista, an idea familiar to most Clash fans (I remember a caffeine-fueled night of sleep lost planning such a work in the early 90’s), is quixotic attempt to rehabilitate a white elephant and it may just succeed in a Terry Gilliam kinda way.
On this track the Coal Porters country up "Something About England
"Two Guitars Clash" is another tribute to the boys by Stiff Little Fingers.
Upload of Permanent Record Outtakes – a fine boot for all who dare journey through that Strummer Wilderness.
"If you can't understand the lyrics - don't worry you're not alone."
Joe Strummer
Joe Strummer died six years ago. I'm still angry.
Joe promised not to repeat the old mistakes. He promised rock n’ roll swagger and principal. But things went wrong. When that error occurred is a subject for Deep Clash Theoreticians but that he fell hard is incontestable.
The Clash got the Six Years of Greatness like Dylan had in ’62 to’68. Yet, after that, unlike the brilliant peaks and wretched valleys of Dylan’s innumerable second acts Joe produced only that Crap album, a handful of humble solo outings and some marginal soundtrack work.
“Joe Strummer put more into a couplet than most guys put into an album.” Don Letts
The strength of the Clash’s work is that Strummer-Jones dynamic – their voices shoring up each other’s weaknesses, their contradictory public images and the way they embodied the split between music and lyrics.
In The Future is Unwritten Joe says that, unlike Mick who understood the music, he just wanted to get out some great words. He did. And in the end , no matter what, he left behind a fearsome body of work.
“Joe Strummer would choke on your verbosity and bellicose verbiage.” Catch22Rye (in my comments)
Those words, Strummer’s densely packed lyrics, meant everything to me. During one of those particularly miserable years of junior high school, I, rather sadly, befriended a cassette tape of London Calling. That tape remained stuck in my Walkman while I tried decrypting Strummer’s garbled argot all on my lonesome. As I translated snippets, I wrote out page after page of them in my Social Studies binder. Joe Strummer did not save my life but he gave me focus when it turned to shit.
“Raise a toast to St. Joe Strummer. I think he might've been our only decent teacher."The Hold Steady
Joe taught me that anger could be power. That knowledge helped me break break old patterns of passivity. It helps me still, after all my anger with Joe's untimely demise spawned these words. However, I've come to learn that anger can also become a weakness and that there are times when truces and forgiveness bypass power altogether.
“So you think we lost the battle? Then go home and weep about it. Sometimes you’ve got wake up in the morning and think, Fuck it, you’re going to win the battle.” Joe Strummer
Strummer not only inspired thousands to re-think anger and power he also got them to plug in their guitars and pen lyrics about him. I can’t find any songs about Mick, Paul or Topper (and definitely none about Terry) but lots on Mr. Strummer. So here they are collected in one place.
Songs about Strumming: Twenty Songs about Joe
(All songs , in order, are in the DivShare player below - click and enjoy)
The HeadlinesWith No One To Follow (A thrilling chorus drives home a song that celebrates Yoe Strummer in the best Swedish pop-punk style.)
The Hold SteadyConstructive Summer (While the sing-speak vocals can grate the Hold Steady are never boring musically or lyrically, as this song ably demonstrates.)
Azra The Strummer (“Sell everything except your strummer.” Amen)
The Radiators From Space Joe Strummer. (A rocking little narrative from this pre- and post-Pogues punk band.)
Perry Keyes Joe Strummer (Keyes is an excellent Australian songwriter mining that seam between Strummer and Springsteen, which turned out to be richer than anyone imagined.)
The Nu NilesStrummer’s Swing(Joe would’ve loved these spaghetti instrumentalists from Barcelona.)
The Sting-RaysJoe Strummer’s Wallet (This 80’s British Psychobilly band name-checks Joe and quotes Eve of Destruction.)
Stiff Little Fingers Strumerville (A newer track from this late 70’s Irish punk band – a bit earnest but such is the curse of Strummer fandom.)
Suciedad Discriminada En el nombre del punk rock (Joe Strummer, Joey Ramone) (Strummer was a citizen of the world - “An atlas” in Bono’s words - so it’s no surprise to hear this band from Mexico, where Joe lived as a child, salute him.)
The Alarm Three Sevens Clash (Mike Peters and co. took a lot of undeserved guff in the 80's for being a sloppy mixture of the Clash and Bob Dylan with worse hair but damn, as he proves here, Mike is still kicking.)
The Beatsteaks Hello Joe (German punk band quotes London Calling riff to say hello and goodbye to Joe.)
Billy Childish Joe Strummer’s Grave (Thirty years on and Childish,still all full of piss, vinegar and the early Kinks, gives us a screed against modern Britain that is venomous and fun.)
The Gaslight Anthem I’da Called You Woody Joe (The very definition of the aforementioned Strum-Steen amalgamation and fucking good at it.)
Die Toten Hosen Goodbye Garageland (The Dead Pants, Germany’s most legendary punk band, say sayonara to Joe with yet another fist-pumping lager-swaying sing-a-long.)
Billy Bragg Old Clash Fan Fight Song (Let Billy, often called a “one-man Clash” in his better days, tell you all about Joe Strummer - good luck stopping him once he starts yammering.)
Cowboy Mouth Joe Strummer (Overall, this New Orleans band seem like real Rock the Casbah fans but this track has some wit and a few fine (likely pro-tooled) vocal parts.
Cock Sparrer Where Are They Now? (Early 80’s English oi band wrote some of the best songs in that genre including this call-out to Joe - and Tony Parsons and Julie Burchil - as they warn us “I believed in them – don’t you believe in us.”
The Vacancies Strummer Hair-raising screams in the verses and a mournful, biting hook combine to “tell you a story about Joe Strummer.”
The Pernice Brothers High as a Kite (Wikipedia says the lyrics include the line "We wore pictures of Strummer" but you'll need to listen closely as this is even quieter than usual for Joe (Pernice, that is). Give his solo album, Big Tobacco a listen, if you're ready for a nasty downer.
20. The Department of Correction A Message From Joe Strummer We end as we begun, in Sweden, this time with an instrumental track provided for some of Joe's final words.
If you'd like to have this collection of songs all together you may (for evaluation purposes only - to be wiped from your computer in 48 hours etc. etc.) here , for a limited time, is the entire folder.
“One of the reasons that (the Clash) still rings true is that Joe spoke the truth.” Mick Jones
It began mid-set. The re-united Clash were playing at the Walker, a turn-of-the century theatre restored to a trace of its old glory. There, in the orange-red glow, beneath ornate arches stood what remained of the old heroes. Their bruising volume threatened to bring down the third balcony (“the Gods”) and my plush seat with it.
Somehow, the hulking, throbbing stacks completely obscured Mick Jones but his guitar roared. Joe Strummer was resurrected as a shaky CGI projection of his barking ’77 incarnation. Paul, I squint to reconstruct it all, was dressed in his modern retro gangster mode, complete with fedora. Let’s assume Topper was on drums because an illusory Clash reunion needs a good drummer.
Even unconscious, the whole spectacle felt disconcerting.
After a few songs, the curtain, a giant fireproofed creation that crossed a Persian rug with a Group of Seven landscape, drew shut. Paul Simonon, his bass slung low, came out and posed in front of a single microphone stand. It seemed inevitable that a The Good, The Bad and The Queen song was coming. Instead, Paul played “This is England” to a now almost empty room. I wondered if Mick Jones insisted that this song, created after his firing, be performed in isolation.
Paul tore though the song, hammering his bass and spitting out those words - “I got my motorcycle jacket/But I'm walking all the time – and it seemed alive and raw enough to bleed. Up in the rafter, the few of us left yelled backing vocals – “This is Ennng-land!” in camaraderie with this genuine moment.
As the song ended, I descended from the Gods. I tried to get closer to the mirage but as the ancient curtain pulled back and the digital Joe Strummer et al broke into “White Riot” the place filled back up like a hole in the sand. The crowd surged. Instantaneously, I was squeezed out the door and left, bewildered, in the cold night air.
This is England (Dub Mix)
In Reality
In Reality I never actually saw the Clash but in Vancouver in 1991 I did witness the Joe Strummer led Pogues (whom a co-worker seethingly dismissed as the ‘Gues for being Shane McGowan-less). I arrived in time to hear them break into a gut-belting “Straight to Hell”- a defiant Strummer pinnacle. My fists clenched, a wave of andrenalin rolled over my insides- it was the closest I’ll come, awake, to seeing the Clash. That performance confirmed a stubborn faith in Strummer as some kind of modern minstrel spreading songs from far away places and times.
In Defence of Folly
The dream itself is attributable to my second reading of Pat Gilbert’s “Passion is the Fashion”. That book captures the ego, the pettiness, the thievery and the resulting brilliance that was The Clash. However, the appearance of “This is England” cannot merely be attributed to its recent canonization as “the last great Clash song”. No, I bought Cut the Crap on vinyl from Records on Wheels the day it came out. As a good obsessive (who savours the hardscrabble rewards uncovered in awkward and ill-conceived albums) I listened to it compulsively.
Cut the Crap was lambasted upon arrival and remains an easy mark for critics of all stripes, “it’s the After M*A*S*H of rock n' roll,” in the words of 2000 Man from whammoblammo.
Kosmo Vinyl claimed this last version of the Clash was going to be done “without any of the excess or the bullshit.” Bollocks! Excess and Bullshit were the Clash’s stock-in-trade, with Jones being in charge of excess (he loved the pageantry of rock n’ roll) and Strummer bringing the b.s. (an inspiration as a fighter but as a political thinker he was no Orwell). However, on this album manager and commissar Bernie Rhodes loaded up on bullshit and excess. That he he failed to disembowel the whole work is a mighty testament to the guts of Joe Strummer The knocks on Rhodes’ gimmicky, synthetic production are well-founded; the biggest knock being its burial of some taut Strummer song-writing. You can hear him pounding on the wall-of-synths, as he bellows near-incomprehensibly on “Life is Wild”. While the lyrics he shouts can descend into weak sloganeering (“Yes I am the dictator I satisfy the US team”) when Strummer returns to recklessly slamming words together the results glow: “Patriots of the wasteland torching two hundred years Dragging my spirit back to the dungeon again Bring back crucifixion cry the moral death’s head legion Using steel nails manufactured by the slaves in Asia” Critics dismissed anthemic tracks such as “Three Card Trick” and “North and South”, as bad oi! songs due to the hooligan chants added into the mix. Strummer, (no fan of oi - “No, not Sham ‘69”) had, I propose, merely dug back into one of oi’s own antecedents. You see, secretly, oi!, at its best, is folk music. By which, I mean that oi! is uncomplicated music with direct messages designed for full-blooded audience participation – like a thuggish Pete Seeger. There is, similarly, a steady folk undercurrent (as in “Something about England” from Sandanista) on Cut the Crap, fitting for a version of the Clash that, in extremis, toured as acoustic buskers. It’s the raw palpable humanity beneath the mechanical sheen – just as so many of us live and breath here underneath all this digital chicanery.
In Conclusion
Closing statement, your honour? I submit that Cut the Crap, faults inclusive, is better written than any post-Clash project. The grit beneath the fluff trumps the discographies of B.A.D., Carbon/Silicon, Strummer solo and Havana 3.a.m. (each with a valid claim to the contrary, unlike Topper’s solo album or the Cherry Bombz).
Is all this revisionist? Hell, yeah. We are all revisionists; forever fiddling with the narratives that steer our lives. As technology imbues eternal life on antiques it ends up rendering history ever more contestable. The old Walker Theatre was re-named the Burton Cummings Theatre and Cut the Crap got touched up with a bonus track. Even history isn’t forever.
In the future maybe some blistering folk-punk band like the 241’ers or the Filthy Thieving Bastards will remake the whole damn album! Or, perhaps, Clash man Bill Price will strip the tracks naked and show us the skeletal remains of that music from another time.But that’s another dream all together.
In celebration of yet another Clash Post I’ve scoured for some boots – thanks to the always-inspiring If Music Could Talk for help. Most bootlegs are for obsessive (and if you’re here, you likely are as such) and these are no exception. Incidentally, Berkley Place is a good place for Clash-talk and boots and check out this boot idea
First is Give ‘Em Enough Dope a set of late-era live tracks from the Jones’ Clash through the Crap Clash.
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Re: Re-Ups
MRML does not plan to restore all of the content lost in The Great Mediafire Gutting of 2012. Polite requests may be made in the appropriate section, regular commenters will get priority.
This collection (with it's non-punctuated, non-chronological and just plain non-sensical liner notes) is long out of print as all Equals material appears to be.
