The Clash – Combat Rock

I’ve often wondered how many album jackets feature a band on some remote railroad tracks, and why they think this is a good setting, or what the imagery is supposed to provoke, especially since almost no one uses the railroads anymore, other than for the transportation of goods, and now it seems for evocative images from a time bygone time … nevertheless, here we have The Clash, on the tracks, perhaps envisioning themselves at the juncture of some proverbial crossroads.

Combat Rock found The Clash at the top of their game, arriving on the heels of a series of albums that were getting progressively better, yet still, heavily relied on a single to carry them through. If a bit unorthodox, Combat Rock was without a doubt the most wholly cohesive album to date, combining a series of genres that should not have flowed together, yet in the hands of The Clash, managed to do so flawlessly, even effortlessly. Fusing all of this music together were some splendid, if not often cryptic lyrics, boldly taking swipes at America and America’s foreign and political policies as had never been done before. Though with that in mind, I sincerely doubt that those lyrics affected those listening to this gem in 1982 as did say the lyrics of The Jefferson Airplane as they stepped into a new decade, ready to tear down the walls as well.

My point here is that even with the critical acclaim of the album and the adventure the band were on, most of the were on their own bi-polar trip, having come into a drug culture that was more solitary, and not as unifying as it had been in the mid 60’s, with drummer Topper Headon being asked to leave the band (it was a year of great Cocaine and bad Heroin), which was followed by a series of infighting and directional disagreements that were beginning to surface, signaling with all its glory that Combat was more about the splintering and combat within the band than with the changes they professed to be in favor of, or the culture they they wished to change.

There are others who will profess as vehemently, that this is a very weak and disted album, that it is only the high octane of the delivery that makes it feel important, that Combat Rock engaged in dysfunctional forms of artist expression laid down by a group of morons who actually didn’t know how to play their instruments, was clearly geared to an American market of punk fashion that offered a bit more sophistication and presentation … basically anything to get the band as far away from the Queen of England as possible, and that Combat Rock, a massive album was not The Clash’s finest hour.

Nearly all of the songs are heavily riff driven with a catchy blues progression delivered in 4/4 time, often seemingly filled with improvisational vocals, creating a surreal atmosphere that changes from track to track, yet keeps the band in check. With the first side of the album delivering more conventional material and sporting two radio hits, side two becomes more introspective and less accessible, as if Frank Zappa had been pressed into service. From there the album goes in all directions at once, though in the end dovetails back in on itself, of course with others saying that rather than dovetailing, the experience rained back down on itself and exploded.

When all is said and done, I found the sonic energy to be impossible to ignore, I also found that with this much energy, I could not listen to more than a single side of the album at once, quickly finding the side that rode best in my back pocket for future plays, nearly ignoring the other, where weak songs are overshadowed by great ones, where The Clash seemed to be a serious band during a time of new-wave fluff.

*** The Fun Facts: The album was initially envisioned as a double outing, to be titled Rat Patrol From Fort Bragg.

Review by Jenell Kesler