Clash 7: Cut The Crap

It’s never a good sign when you have to hire two guitar players to replace the guy you just fired, but that’s exactly what the Clash did after abandoning Mick Jones to Big Audio Dynamite. While Joe Strummer and Paul Simonon allegedly wanted to get back to their straightahead punk roots, the evidence given on Cut The Crap showed them to be more aligned with Mick’s new band. Sure, there are guitars everywhere, but the drums are programmed and overly robotic. We know now that manager Bernie Rhodes took control of the production and lyrics, and while Paul’s in the photos, he’s not on the album at all. Rather, any bass not made by a synthesizer—and there are an awful lot of dated keyboards on this album—come from Norman Watt-Roy, who already filled in on Sandinista!

Speaking of which, the busy effects-filled mix of “Dictator”—with chatter in both channels—recalls the more non-musical moments of that album, to the point where one can’t hear the words, chords, or melody (except for those of the synth horns). The chanted gang vocals, which are all over this album, don’t help, and proof they did the opposite of the album title’s suggestion. “Dirty Punk” has some elements of their earliest songs, but comes off instead as a Clash parody, whereas the raison d’être of “We Are The Clash” isn’t very convincing either; in fact, Joe rolls his first R just like Johnny Rotten used to. “Are You Red…Y” would be a half-decent new wave number if it were recorded by anyone else, like Sigue Sigue Sputnik or somebody like that. “Cool Under Heat” sports enough acoustic guitar and martial energy to be interesting, but for those damn chant vocals. Also, the conga is way too loud. Similarly, “Movers And Shakers” starts with potential, but is lost to a really stupid synth line fighting against the chanting in the chorus.

“This Is England” begins with what sounds like the auto-rhythm button on your average 1985 Casio keyboard, and would actually kinda work if it was the only out-there song on the album. “Three Card Trick” brings back some of the reggae from earlier in the decade, but is nowhere as convincing as those homages were. Just when you think the album might be improving, more video game effects and an unintelligible conversation preface yet another chanted chorus on “Play To Win”—but it’s soon apparent that the choruses are only distractions from the atmosphere in said preface. The inane “Fingerpoppin’” wants you to dance, which makes sense considering the track wants to emulate “You Spin Me Round (Like A Record)”, and what’s with the growled chorus? “North And South” is sung by one of the new guitarists, whose voice is neither as strong nor as distinctive as Joe’s or Mick’s, but again, might work on somebody else’s album since it’s got a nice melody. And frankly, “Life Is Wild” follows the template of eight other songs here so closely that it doesn’t stand out except for the silence that follows.

Cut The Crap was the Clash in name only, and we would be tempted to call it a Joe Strummer solo album if he hadn’t denounced it himself upon release. It didn’t help that it came out the same week as This Is Big Audio Dynamite, an album that is a masterpiece in comparison. At this point Strummer had seemed to squander everything he’d worked for, with an album title that was all too apt. The new combo was supposedly pretty ferocious onstage, and even when they were busking, but any proof remains only on bootlegs, just as there might be a good album in here somewhere, which we’ll never know. For the most part, it has been absent from most compilations and retrospectives, although a mid-price European reissue CD included the “Do It Now” B-side, while “Sex Mad Roar” remains MIA in the digital era.

The Clash Cut The Crap (1985)—2