The Tale of Two Albums
The Clash of Two Clash Titans: The British vs. the U.S.A. LPs
The difference in iconic punk is bloody huge, mates
Like any annoying music snob, the first — or second thing — I did was to check out the albums of my girlfriend.
This was 1994.
Album collections were still, then, barely, a thing. I’m a Vinyl Loyalist. I still have hundreds of albums purchased at Sam Goody and Wall to Wall Sound and Tower Records with my busboy tips.
Some may have even come from that Columbia Records thing. If you’re old enough to recall album stickers and mail and then getting sent a clunker that you never wanted, it’s okay as long as you rock until you die, man!
We had gone on a few successful dates. Mary Jane would become my first “legitimate” girlfriend — where the epithet “girlfriend” applied in both directions. I was twenty-five. Yeah — a late bloomer to love and punk.
We were married in 1995. Don’t let the best thing slip away right?
Mary Jane is not a music snob, or any other type of snob, thank goodness, unlike her pretentious husband of now twenty-sex years. Sorry. Freudian typo. Twenty-six years of holy matrimony with very few holes.
Her albums reflected both of our “coming of age” in the 1980s — high school and college. I came of age, if I ever did, in the 1960s. To me, it was all Woodstock and Classic Rock, but by 1994, having studied in England, I was opening like a flower to the buzz-buzz of bands that did not include The Garden of Gods — The Beatles, The Who, Led Zeppelin, The Doors, The Rolling Stones, or Pink Floyd.
She had R.E.M. albums — yes! I fell in love with that band from Athens, Georgia in the Highlands of Scotland, of all places, mates.
And then a major Mary Jane find! The first Clash album. She also had Combat Rock. I was still young and foolish and ignorant enough to know only the two major hits off that album — “Should I Stay or Should I Go” and “Rock the Casbah.” I was also growing to understand the lyrical and musical depths and dimensions of what would eventually become my favorite album of all time — London Calling.
After all, “Train in Vain” and “London Calling” were on regular rotation on the Philly Classic Rock stations — WMMR and WYSP.
“Oh my God,” I told Mary Jane while munching on an everything bagel. “You have this! I’ve been wanting to listen to the first album of The Clash for ages!”
I was thrilled at three things: being in her “place” for the first time, the fresh “bagels,” and listening to the U.S.A. version of “The Clash” on vinyl.
Aye, me droogs, in that order.
But what didn’t I know? There were two versions of this landmark album? What? So many music magazines and sites list the UK 1977 album as one of the best in rock. And one of the most influential. Every song rocks — like Green Day’s Dookie, all the way back from 1994.
Can fellow punks, New Punk and Old Punk, really be that old? Alas, me mates! Aye! And don’t get me started about the ages of blink-182 or Lou Reed.
But listening to “Janie Jones” on repeat ten times brings back our rebellious teen years. Trust me. That song is a Dr. Who phonebooth — transporting us back to gritty streets of London — Hammersmith, Brixton, Lambeth — of the 1970s.
In 1977, I was only eight. And too far into Kiss and the Grease Soundtrack than I want to admit. Please, snobs, forgive me. I know not what I was doing.
A beloved LP is like a novel.
It has a narrative. A soul. Each chapter unfolds and spills into the next. Each song follows in much the same way. It’s why listening to songs on Spotify can be so disconcerting. The opening song in Sgt. Pepper naturally flows into “With a Little Help from My Friends,” and then spills into “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”
It’s a storybook — Emerson would call this “sculpture in the memory” as part of a “pre-established harmony.” Music is linked to memory. And the listener wants those sculptures still in place when listening to an album as one reads a book from cover to cover.
Imagine no grand finale in “A Day in the Life.” No “Brain Damage/Eclipse” from Floyd. No “Jungleland” from Bruce.
The same goes for opening songs, and all the songs that sequentially follow. The musical artist and producer, like an author and editor, have arranged the songs to create what Poe would call a “single unified effect” in the sequence.
The “whole” should be savored in “one sitting” or “one listening” in order to feel the unity in the art — and the emotional impact of the piece. That’s why watching a film from start to finish without interruptions can be so moving. For those two hours — or Side A/Side B with an album — can alleviate us and carry us above the common and mundane cares and worries of the day.
For those of us who were thrilled at making mixtapes or loved to DJ parties, moving up and down the musical and emotional keyboard, we can still recall our own “pre-established harmony” as if following our own calling to create a musical journey — and the song order may stay with us forever.
Sorry for the dissertation. Back to the bagels and The Clash.
So consider my amazement when I discovered my wife’s The Clash — the American release in 1979 — was quite different than the original UK release in 1977. I know from the Beatles LB collection that versions can differ — Meet the Beatles vs. With the Beatles.
When I started reading reviews of the two Clash versions, an overwhelming number of critics and pseudo rock critics like myself claim the original release was better. What? Wait! Do you mean “Clash City Rockers” doesn’t start with that iconic riff? What? Wait! Do you mean “I Fought the Law” doesn’t end Side A — and WT Heck — it’s not even on the British version?
And what? Wait a minute — there are four songs on the British version that are not on the American version?
So I did what I should have done years ago, order the UK version on Amazon on good, old-fashioned CD — and compare and contrast the two during multiple “one-sitting hearing sessions.”
In fact, while last-minute Christmas Eve shopping with my twenty-four-year-old daughter, Madeline, I was playing her the UK version in my Kia Sorento. She had forgotten to tell me her Santa gift Clash t-shirt from her high school days was among the victims when her car and most of her worldly goods were stolen in Albuquerque in 2018 during a road trip to her internship in Phoenix.
(It is the Car Theft Capital of the United States.)
“Oh, shit,” I said. “I didn’t know that! Santa Clash would have replaced that!”
(The car was recovered and repaired and the insurance did cover the material loss, thank God — but that Clash shirt was awesome.)
So while driving, I lectured on the various songs, not on Mom’s American release. Madeline didn’t know the Sex Pistols too well, but songs on the original UK release share striking similarities to the Godfathers of Punk. That makes sense.
“Nevermind the Bullocks” was released on October 28, 1977.
During Christmas Day, after opening gifts, my daughters Madeline and Nancy sat in the den with me, spinning vinyl and sharing craft stouts and enjoying some vintage punk. Madeline also wanted to listen to the entirety of London Calling, too. Christmas wishes do come true, friends. Later, outside, by the fire, we even spun on vinyl their mom’s Combat Rock.
Anyway:
Here are the songs that shocked me from the 1977 UK release:
Deny, Protex Blues, 48 Hours, and Cheat.
How did a Clash fan not know these existed? When listening numerous times to the UK version, I couldn't help but notice the influence of The Sex Pistols.
In both basic punk sound and lyrics, “Deny” sounds so much like “Liar” from The Sex Pistols. For instance —
Deny You’re such a liar You won’t know the truth if it hit you in the eye Deny
You’re such a liar You’re selling your no-no all the time An’ you said we were going out to the 100 Club Then you said “it ain’t my scene”
And here is “Liar” from Never Mind the Bollocks. Of course, TSP is much more “raw” and “guitar-basic-forward” — if I dare use such a phrase. It’s part of their appeal — but also a “one-trick pony.” They opened the door to punk — that’s, in part, to bands like The Velvet Underground and MC5 and The Stooges.
The other songs too, such as “Cheat,” “Protex Blues,” and “48 Hours,” are such early examples of prototype punk sound. It’s the reason why the “decision-makers” didn’t think there was a “hit” worthy enough on the album to make it in the American market.
Yeah, you need a ton of songs if every song is only two minutes, right?
In fact, one of the best cuts on the LP, “Police and Thieves” was only recorded after the band realized the album wasn’t long enough. The American LP version even came out after the U.S.A. release of Give ’Em Enough Rope.
Why does it take the States so long to get “turned on” to new sounds?
Anyway, out of the four “new” songs that were new to this aged American punk rocker, 48 Hours is my favorite — clocking in at a “rocking-Ramone-rate” of 1:36. Hell, talk about being the antithesis of Progressive Rock.
I wish one band I used to like, like Yes, would take some clues to brevity. Before you bash me about Yes, just listen to the lyrics of Yes. “Mountains climb out of the sky and they stand there.”
Really? What the bloody hell, man? Dreadful.
As far as the contrast, I still prefer the USA version. And that’s because it’s just what I’m used to. And it’s also a bit of cheating, as if The Beatles slipped a few more songs onto Rubber Soul, and dropped a couple of clunkers, which there are none.
Side 1 ends with the incredible cover of “I Fought the Law” that everyone seems to know. I even heard this at Planet Fitness yesterday after my headphones died. Boddy Fuller Four dropped the song in 1966. Talk about anticipating the turbulent 1960s and Vietnam Protests. Green Day has a slightly disturbing ironic “lounge” version of the punk anthem. Picture blue skies, sand, and beach blanket bingo. But I gotta give props for invention.
As does, of course, The Dead Kennedys.
The Dead Kennedys amp up the speed 1.5x and change the lyric to “I won” rather than “The law won.” Ok — wishful thinking. “They also needed sex — and guess who won?” Boys — I think you lost the point.
And some Clash cover band called The Dillingers also “cover” the song almost verbatim as The Clash — just, of course, NOT AT ALL LIKE THE CLASH!
As a side note, when I cover Thoreau’s “Civil Disobedience” in class, “I Fought the Law” is one of the songs I play as “context.” Any excuse for music in the classroom, I’m there, man.
I do prefer “Janie Jones” as the opening song over “Clash City Rockers.” And I wish that “Police and Thieves” ended each LP like “A Day in the Life.” I know that The Clash didn’t like being labeled as a “garage band,” and it was symbolic, but I love that last song on such an influential album to give us an idea of what is coming next — like “Tomorrow Never Knows” from Revolver from The Beatles.
I also miss “Complete Control” — I mean. Listen to that opening riff. It’s a bloody great song. It has all the intensity of the Ramones — and that line ‘You’re my guitar hero!”
Amen, Strummer and Jones!
I also like the repetitive but listenable “What’s My Name” and of course, “Clash City Rockers,” which opens the USA version. For some reason, the power chords in the rock sound eerily similar to the MTV riff with the astronaut on the moon.
Am I right? No one knows who made the riff. But I also hear so many other punk bands here, too. Like, Pat Benatar’s “Hit Me With Your Best Shot.” That was released on September 15, 1980. MTV launched on August 1, 1981. Hey, I may be onto something here, eh, mates?
Okay — I’m falling down too many rabbit holes here and entering too many wardrobe closets. All I know is that you don’t have to pick one or the other version of the debut Clash album.
We’re fortunate, as punk rockers, to have both to serenade us into ages old.
As Dylan Thomas writes, that Welsh punk -
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Peace, brothers, and sisters!
Oh, by the way, it may have taken me twenty-six years and many bagels later to finally listen to Mary Jane’s Human League debut LP. Let me just say: it was amazing. The music snob just got played.
You’re never too old to go back to the past to admit mistakes.
