(the album cover of the century: paul simonon trashing his fender bass in frustration at a seated audience: the horror! - pic by pennie smith)
Now on the one hand I have a bit of an issue paying another 20 quid for the same stuff I bought in 1979 for a fiver just because the format has been revised... and anyway the real single sleeve double album with the lyrics in the sleeve notes will always be irreplaceable... sure, but actually this re-issue was 15 quid, came with 20 'new and unreleased versions/songs and a DVD of the making of the quintessential Clash album.
Following 2 albums (The Clash and Give 'em Enough Rope) which received mixed critical acclaim and success, the Clash were at a bit of a low. They came back from a US tour, played football and made this masterpiece. 19 songs for the price of a single album covering a range of styles from punk to reggae - if you don't have it: you should. This 'anniversary' (of precisely what?) edition is well worth your hard earned, according to me and the Las Vegas Mercury:
Hollywood found itself with a giant cash cow in 1998 with the emergence of the DVD format, whereupon a film could be presented in its most crisp and clean version, along with bonus programming options. Watching a movie changed as its backstory became part of the viewing experience. The music industry has gotten in on this lucrative windfall as well, starting with home video-oriented DVD packages, and CDs with bonus "rare footage" DVDs.
The best example of this could just be Sony's recent 25th anniversary edition of the Clash's London Calling, one of the most revered albums in rock history. As if there wasn't enough ambition on the original 19-track version, its latest release features another 21 tracks of demos (including five "new" songs); a DVD with a documentary, footage from the recording sessions and promo videos for three of the singles; and a booklet with essays and previously unpublished photos. It actually takes longer to absorb the entire package than it does the band's 1981 triple album, Sandinista! Everything here tells the story of how the British band's third album was conceived and recorded, and explores the legacy it has developed since its breakthrough. It reveals the songs' various institutional, social and political influences. And it features tasty footage of the album's hyperactive producer, Guy Stevens, who thrashed orchestra chairs down in the studio the same way bassist Paul Simonon destroyed his white Fender, as seen on the cover artwork.
Yet none of it is as scintillating as the actual album itself, a tight 66-minute work that confidently stretches the boundaries of punk rock without a hint of self-consciousness. And then there are the tunes--the iconoclastic melody march of the title track, the alluring dub bassline of "The Guns of Brixton," the pop reverie of "Train in Vain." It makes this new package feel less like a marketing ploy and more like a celebration.Just buy it.