armagideon time

listened to london calling last night for the first time in many, many years, and was about 50/50 wit' it. they were trying too hard to make a _big statement_, guy stevens egging them on in the studio resulted in too many overdubs, and too many instances of mick jones swinging for the phil spector-via-brooce springsteen fences. the best moments came when strummer reverted to his 101'ers roots-obsessive stance, with lotsa humor 'n' vitriol (which are not mutually exclusive). as a palate cleanser, i fell asleep to the second side of black market clash, three songs that i usedta own as an e.p. before my future ex-wife gave all my good records to goodwill in shreveport. this was one of 'em. i'll never forget hearing strummer sing this (after pounding his mic stand on the stage, as if to wake us all up) near the end of a cathartic two-hour show at armadillo world headquarters in austin, fall of '79. i'm reminded of that night every time i hear ph7 play this song.