By the time they stepped on stage at New York’s Shea Stadium on October 13 1982, the Clash had fulfilled all of their recklessly wild ambitions. Landmark albums ‘The Clash’, ‘London Calling’ and ‘Sandinista!’ had not only changed the face of music and the perception of punk’s possibilities, they had set new benchmarks for musical courage that challenged other artists to follow. They had even broken into the US Top 40, something they had been trying not very hard to do for years. However, their implosion was imminent. Drummer Topper Headon had been fired for heroin addiction, replaced by Terry Chimes. Within eleven months, lead guitarist and genius arranger Mick Jones would be fired as well, leaving the embarrassing ‘Cut The Crap’ to be recorded by lead singer Joe Strummer, bassist Paul Simonon and three others nobody can remember. ‘Live At Shea Stadium’, then, represents the final peak of ‘the only band that matters’.
The set list reads like an abbreviated best of: almost all of the fourteen songs here are classics in their studio versions. Certainly, it’s hard to go wrong with a show that opens with
London Calling and follows with
Police On My Back . Yes, they show their pop side, particularly with their two hit singles from ‘Combat Rock’, but the vast majority are definitive, hard-hitting pieces. In their uncompromising song choice, the Clash bring the mountain to Mohammed.
This is the band we are, and if you don’t like it... well, we’ve done alright without you, haven’t we? Most of the performances are stellar anyway: the slightly stretched out versions of
Spanish Bombs and
Clampdown bring the audience’s focus to Strummer’s lyrics. These are not background songs. The Clash grab Shea Stadium by the lapels and order them to listen. Meanwhile, the drop-in and drop-out of the hypnotic, quiet reggae of
Armagideon Time , which sits in the middle of
The Magnificent Seven , as the band takes the crowd “from New York to Jamaica and back” may be the concert’s highlight.
A couple of songs are carried by their quality and not their performances: despite their bravado, the Clash and their sound are obviously affected by the rainy conditions. Closers
Should I Stay Or Should I Go? and
I Fought The Law, both depending on Jones’s waterlogged guitar and amp, sound as if they’re tussling to muzzle the disobedient noise. Meanwhile,
Rock The Casbah desperately misses Topper’s piano and is very underwhelming as a standard rock song. The only genuine stinker, though, is
Guns of Brixton. Simonon proves that he had one good vocal take in him, used to greatness on the ‘London Calling’ original. His terrible monotone and lyrical gaffes garble a Clash classic. Yet it is the only genuinely weak song here:
Tommy Gun ,
Police On My Back and
Career Opportunities are all killers, whilst Jones’ lovelorn
Train In Vain stands out like a rose amidst all of the surrounding ragged, raw passion.
But now for the question you’ve all been waiting for: how do the Clash – or, specifically, Strummer – fare in their attempts to win over the massive New York crowd? Their backs are to the wall: they are a foreign band who have just broken into the US charts, but with a song that isn’t exactly indicative of their typical sound. Whatsmore, that ‘typical’ – read ‘eclectic’ – sound is backing lyrics of social dissection (you’d struggle to find a US chart song in October `82 that had a line like “No man born with a living soul can be working for the clampdown”). Oh yes, and they are opening for one of rock’s great, stadium filling overlords in The Who.
But you know what? The Clash forged one of rock ‘n roll’s most important legacies by fighting with their backs to the wall...and winning. So, as usual, they refuse to play it safe. Songs of rebellion, social unrest, terrorism and working class rebellion are rattled off to the crowd, dressed in punk, reggae, pop, funk and rock. Strummer is bold to the point of abrasive: he orders the audience to “stop YAKKING” during
Police On My Back and declares that the funky
Magnificent Seven is based on “a black New York rhythm...that we stole one night.” The crowd, to their credit, clearly enjoys the banter, and roars in appreciation when Strummer cheekily refers to them as “72,000 guinea pigs” during
Clampdown .
Alas, Strummer would’ve been able to claim victory if it weren’t for his brazen performance for
English Civil War . Gambling on turning his most incendiary riot song into a triumphant showstealer, Strummer leaves out the “Hurrah, hurrah” of the verses in hope that the crowd will passionately fill them in...which they don’t. Refusing to acknowledge his misjudgement, he continues with the tactic and the audience stubbornly refuses to participate. Ah well. Can’t win ‘em all, Joe. And anyway, when
I Fought The Law fades out and he farewells his beloved guinea pigs with a “Mucho graçias, adios, adios!”, congratulating them on a well-played duel, there’s one thought on your mind: The Who better have followed this with a helluva gig.
“We ain’t got no baseball, no baseball tonight!
We ain’t got no football, they’re on strike!
What we have got for ya is a little bit of what’s going on in London at the moment!
So will you welcome, all the way from Ladbroke Grove, London, W10:
THE CLASH!”
