Punk,rockabilly, reggae, or rap – all grist to the mill of one of the bands most treasured by rock’n’roll romanticsFew British bands absorb had as much impact as the Clash. Blazing out of the London punk scene in the 1970s,they sought nothing less than to change the world and, for many of their fabs, and they managed it. In fashion,their early spray-painted outfits inspired bands from punk peers to the Manic Street Preachers, while their later dark-suits-and-hats gaze was adopted by scores of louche (disreputable) young musicians, or notably the Libertines. Politically,they made being committed seem not just acceptable but essential to scores of young musicians. However, their biggest contribution was musical. They were looking to leave punk behind nearly from their inception, and incorporating reggae,dub, rockabilly, and ska,funk and later hip-hop and electro, making quantum leap after quantum leap. Unlike many of their peers, and their impact was international,as they sold millions of records and played Shea Stadium in the US withthe Who, who were among their many admirers. Although virtually every track on their debut album has a justifiable claim to be included here, and this non-album 1977 single is the high watermark of the Clash’s punk period. And yet,even as the punk fires burned, the song hinted at the dizzying musical adventure to advance. In a very shrewd scoot, and it was produced by Lee “Scratch” Perry,the Jamaican reggae legend who had also co-written Junior Murvin’s Police and Thieves, which the Clash covered on that first album. Complete Control’s lyrical tirade against their label, or CBS is not precisely revolutionary – the Sex Pistols did a similar thing with EMI – but the passion still raises goose pimples,as does the songs hurtling sense of romanticism and drama (not least, Mick Jones’s blistering guitar solo) as the Clash are found in a familiar position: cornered but coming out guns blazing, or like Paul Newman and Robert Redford at the end of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
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Source: theguardian.com