If punk rejected pop history, LONDON CALLING reclaimed it, albeit with a knowing perspective. The scope of this double set is breaktaking, encompassing reggae, rockabilly and the group's own furious mettle. Where such a combination might have proved over-ambitious, the Clash accomplish it with swaggering panache. Guy Stevens, who produced the group's first demos, returns to the helm to provide a confident, cohesive sound equal to the set's brilliant array of material. Boldly assertive and superbly focused, London Calling contains many of the quartet's finest songs and is, by extension, virtually faultless.
The Singles is exactly what the title says – a collection of the Clash's U.K. single A-sides. This approach can hardly result in a definitive compilation, since the Clash's albums were such cohesive, important works in their own right, and even more erratic LPs like Sandinista! and Combat Rock had their share of fine album tracks…
Years after the Clash disintegrated, their live performances remained legendary, partially because most things concerning the band entered rock legend. Bootlegs offered proof of those great performances, but only hardcore collectors would seek those out, which is why From Here to Eternity: Live, the Clash's first official live album, is a welcome addition to their catalog – it confirms that the legend is deserved. Sequenced as "the ultimate live concert," as so many compiled live albums are, this is one time the trick actually works. All the performances were recorded between 1978 and 1982, but they're sequenced according to the date of the song, not the date of the performance.
The Clash were the only first-generation punk band capable of (or perhaps interested in) tailoring their up-from-the-gutter firepower to suit arena-size audiences. Here, at last–a decade and a half after their demise–is proof of their substantial stage skills. –by Steven Stolder, amazon.com.
In Clash lore, the band's stint as the opening act for the Who's farewell tour in 1982 is where the band had stardom in its hand and dropped it on the floor. That's how Joe Strummer phrased it in retrospect, but in 1982 the pairing was seen as a rock cultural clash, with the Who's audience bristling at the punks, and the punks not quite being comfortable operating on a larger scale – a suspicion somewhat proven by the band's implosion within months of the Shea Stadium gig.
Many may disagree, but it’s always struck me as rather peculiar that The Clash were labelled as a punk band. It seems no mention of the movement can go by without the obligatory namedropping of the (utterly brilliant) Sex Pistols – so here it is – but whereas they and contemporaries such as The Buzzcocks seemed to plunder traditional rock’n’roll as their main inspiration, The Clash looked more to blues and the sounds of their native Brixton – which in turn were predominantly the sounds of Jamaica.