In December 1980, English punk pioneers, The Clash, released their fourth album. A triple album. Named after Latin American revolutionaries. And with a cut in the band’s royalties to keep the price at the same level as a single album and thus cheaper for fans. Obviously, they did all this. I mean, why wouldn’t they?
Think about this for a while and then try to imagine a contemporary act at the peak of their powers doing the same thing today. Hard, isn’t it? Probably impossible. If only for the extraordinary nature of its release, Sandinista! might deserve some retrospective attention. But, as is shown by Henley in this contribution to Bloomsbury’s 33 1/3 series, the album has other merits. All this helps to make this book an often compelling, if somewhat uneven, read.
The book is comprised of three main parts. The first section, Introduction, puts Sandinista! into its post-punk context, noting that the band’s previous (double) album, London Calling, had moved them well beyond any punk essentialism. Chapter 1 covers the Politics of the Clash, which often stemmed from songwriter Joe Strummer’s ill-defined socialist beliefs (p. 19). The album title itself came from the movement that had just staged a successful revolution in Nicaragua and Strummer’s seeming concern that the mass media were not covering this story as much as they should have done.
Chapter 2, The Making of Sandinista!, shows the mythmaking undertaken by the band’s manager, Bernie Rhodes. It also illustrates the amount of collaboration that went into the making of the album, even if this was often unacknowledged (pp. 30–31). Hard bargaining went into the pricing of the album and although the band did not get everything it wanted, they were ‘able to get a powerful label to honour their demands and to provide an affordable produce for their fans’ (p. 32).
Strangely, Chapters 3 and 4 form part of Part One of the book, which covers the tracks included on Sandinista Now!, a DJ version of the album cut down to twelve tracks (with six discussed in each chapter). This is done because: ‘The main objective of this book is to determine if Sandinista! could be improved with a shorter tracklist’ (p. 35). This is something that has been debated for some time and here the author answers ‘that none of the reduced versions of the album are completely satisfactory, demonstrating the necessity of the album’s expansive scope’ (p. 111). Therefore, the best version is the full version. (Apparently not a view shared by the band’s drummer, Topper Headon, p. 108.)
Part Two reviews the remaining twenty-four tracks. Readers will hopefully empathise with the problems of reviewing a book that is, in large part, a succession of reviews of individual tracks. Inevitably, the result is somewhat uneven. Some tracks get almost four pages of review (‘The Sound of Sinners’, which the author does not include in his ideal twelve-track version of the album), while others receive only a short paragraph (‘Junkie Slip’ and ‘Kingston Advice’). Arguably, such coverage reflects their artistic importance (and arguing about such things is part of the fun of the book), but they also contribute to a somewhat disjointed reading experience. At times, I got the impression that Micajah was listening to a different album from the one I know, but then again such differences are a key to thinking about the music differently. Alas, most of the musical analysis is limited to lyrics – and The Clash were always more than that.
The conclusion includes nine people’s views (including those of the author) on which twelve tracks they would choose for a single album version, something to which readers can surely only respond by flicking over and/or thinking ‘Really?’ While Sean Egan is cited as one of those who argue that, as a single album, it ‘would have been a classic’ (p. 11), the overall feeling of this section is ‘who are these people and why should I care what they think?’ While I assume that the intention was to spark debate, the overall effect is somewhat numbing.
It should, of course, be recognised that while the author has academic credentials, this is not an academic book per se. Therefore, there is little engagement with other literature and no citations cluttering up the text. All this is understandable. However, one result is that it allows the author to make a number of unsubstantiated populist observations without needing to back them up. Thus, we are told that the album ‘is generally critiqued for its excessive dub tracks’ (p. 91), ‘frequently referred to as an imperfect masterpiece’ (p. 11) where ‘critics questioned whether the band should stay together’ (p. 11), while various opinions are given to ‘some’ (p. 93) and ‘many’ (p. 94).
However, as those making such observations remain anonymous, it is impossible to critically engage with them and they have to be taken at face value. Ultimately, this comes down to a sort of ‘me and my mates think’ analysis, which, while it might be provocative, cannot be anything substantial. The format also allows the author to state opinions as if they are facts – ‘almost no double LP is safe from deconstruction’ (p. 3) and Joe Strummer simply is a better rapper than Debbie Harry and David Byrne (p. 60).
Ultimately, this ends up as a book for Clash fans who want to think more about the band, their music, the times they worked in, their influence, and those who influenced them. It is not a book that will convert non-fans. In many ways, it mirrors the album that gave birth to it. It is something of a ragbag, yet it contains genuine insights. The last section apart, it is rarely less than entertaining, even when it is irritating. If Micajah succeeds in capturing the spirit of Sandinista! (and I think that he does), then that is entirely to his credit. It made me go back to the album and listen anew, with new insights. And I can’t ask for more than that.
