These came out in 1999 – or at least that’s when I got ’em. Here’s what I said about them back then (with some minor editing):
Never mind what the Chinese calendar says: 1999 is not the year of the rabbit. It is indisputably the year of The Clash.
It’s been a dozen or so years since the U.K. punk pioneers’ last album, but you wouldn’t know it from their near-ubiquitous presence of late. Two of their tunes surfaced in the score to Martin Scorsese’s movie Bringing Out The Dead. A roster of today’s alt-rockers paid tribute to them earlier this spring on the CD Burning London. Earlier this month, all their albums were reissued in newly remastered editions. A deluxe box set is due for Christmas. A new documentary film is on the way. And best of all, there’s new music — a glorious album of live recordings and a new disc from former frontman Joe Strummer.
Let’s start with Strummer, whose last album was 1988’s Earthquake Weather. He first tested the waters last year with a track on the South Park: Chef Aid album. Apparently, the old groundhog didn’t see his shadow, so now he’s emered with the album Rock Art & The X-Ray Style — an eclectic outing that kicks off with a burst of static as if to say: Radio Clash is back on the air!
Don’t bother calling in to request Train In Vain, though. Instead of taking his cue from their mid-period days of punk glory, Strummer has picked up where his old band’s moody masterworks Sandinista! and Combat Rock left off. Sticking to his usual blend of socialist standards and Beat-poet romanticism, ole Joe sputters, howls and rasps his way along as his Mescaleros (ex-members of Elastica, Black Grape and Happy Mondays) spin an eclectic mix of styles — including but not limited to Trenchtown reggae, African soul, Latino guac-rock, Middle Eastern Casbah rock, Jamacian dub, U.K. trip-hop and American R&B — into a patchwork crazy-quilt of moody, hypnotic dance-trances. Call it global-village funk. And no, it’s not Safe European Home or London Calling by any means. But it’ll do just fine.
Of course, for those (Mick) jonesing for a shot of the straight goods, it doesn’t come any purer than From Here To Eternity, a must-have guaranteed to put a grin on the mug of any true-blue Clash fan. Stummer and co. were always an awesome live act — and I’ve got the T-shirt, ticket stub, poster, memories and bootlegs to prove it — but amazingly, they never issued a live disc during their lifespan. And even this one isn’t completely live; three of the tracks (taken from the soundtrack to their Rude Boy film) were augmented with studio overdubs to repair the dodgy original recording.
But no matter; even a few sweetened guitars can’t dilute the potency of these 17 tracks, taped at various gigs during the band’s heyday between ’78 and ’82. It’s an awesome set list, with the tunes presented in roughly chronological order, from first-album sonic blasts like Complete Control and Clash City Rockers to more mature fare like London Calling and Guns Of Brixton and even gritty late-model offerings like Know Your Rights and Straight To Hell.
And the performances justify their rep as “the only band that matters.” From Here To Eternity catches them at the top of their game, unleashing a power and conviction few acts have equalled. Jones’ guitar rings like a siren, drummer Topper Headon and bassist Paul Simonon groove and rock as if they’re handcuffed together on the run from the law — and then there’s Strummer, hacking at his guitar like he’s chopping wood, bellowing and jabbering like an exorcism candidate and never pandering to the crowd (at one point, he cracks, “sing in tune, you bastards” when they join in on a chorus).
There are only two ways From Here To Eternity could be any better: 1) They could (and should) have made it a double album, and 2) It should be the precursor to a reunion tour. Then, 2000 could be the next year of The Clash.
