We Are The Clash. Mark Andersen
that Thatcher’s decisions had helped precipitate the Falklands conflict, the war could have dealt a deathblow to her unpopular regime. Thatcher’s risky decision to dispatch a naval task force on April 5 to retake the islands raised the stakes even further. But this gamble would be her political salvation.
As British troops went into combat, nationalist fervor built in the UK, especially as the war went well for the home team. A popular tabloid newspaper, the Sun—mouthpiece for right-wing media mogul Rupert Murdoch—offered a simple huge “GOTCHA” as a headline in response to the sinking of the Argentinian ship General Belgrano, at the cost of 368 lives. The Sun adjusted the headline after the immensity of the death count became known, but the paper—like most of the British press—continued its gung ho war coverage.
Vinyl saw this war fever engulf a pub that the band had long frequented: “It was really ugly. We had been drinking beside these guys for months, and felt they were alright geezers. All of a sudden they were cheering Thatcher, cheering for the deaths of hundreds of human beings, all because they were ‘the enemy.’ It was a bit sick, really, and we decided to take our business elsewhere.”
Thatcher adamantly opposed any resolution short of outright Argentinian surrender. This tested her relationship with Reagan, who was torn between their alliance and his support for the anticommunist Argentinian military dictators.
When Reagan sided with Thatcher, the outcome was certain. After ten weeks, and with nearly one thousand dead, the Union Jack once again flew over the Falklands. Thatcher emerged victorious, with dramatically increased popularity not only at home but abroad as well. The Argentinian dictatorship was soon deposed in a return to democracy, but for Thatcher the message was chilling: War works.
Among the many repercussions from this episode was a small one involving The Clash. At the last possible moment, Strummer decided to call the new album Combat Rock, intended as an oblique comment against the war then raging. It was a sign that Strummer’s artistic gaze—largely diverted to Central America, Vietnam, and New York City—might soon come to rest back home.
For now, there was little time for reflection. Combat Rock was released on May 14, 1982, and the reunited original version of The Clash hit the road two weeks later. The shows tended to downplay Sandinista! in favor of the new record, the London Calling LP, and early nuggets like “Career Opportunities” now containing a revised line: “I don’t want to go fighting in a Falklands street.” “Charlie Don’t Surf” was a key Sandinista! track aired from time to time, with Strummer explaining, “We thought this song was about Vietnam, until we discovered it was about the Falklands.”
The band played virtually every night for two months. Although Chimes was not Headon’s equal as a drummer, he was skilled and tireless, providing a hard-hitting foundation for the songs. One seasoned observer, Rolling Stone critic Mikal Gilmore, complimented the band on “some of the best shows in years.”
Any doubts about the Clash trajectory were quickly overwhelmed by the imperatives of touring. After the US tour, The Clash had only two weeks off before making up the UK dates dropped when Strummer went AWOL. After three weeks and eighteen gigs, The Clash went back to America for another three months.
Combat Rock itself could be seen as a more concentrated version of the musical formula debuted on Sandinista!, largely eschewing straight-ahead rock numbers for more angular and open compositions. When Rhodes critiqued the new material he heard in rehearsal as long meandering “ragas,” Strummer slyly incorporated the remark in the opening line of a new song, “Rock the Casbah.”
The album also echoed Sandinista!’s themes. That record had been given the catalog number “FSLN 1,” another nod to the Nicaraguan revolutionaries; Combat Rock now took “FMLN 2” as its number, a reference to the Salvadoran guerrilla coalition, the Farabundo Martí Front for National Liberation (FMLN).
The group was named after Salvadoran Communist leader Farabundo Martí, an ally of Nicaraguan revolutionary Augusto César Sandino, for whom the Sandinistas were named. Martí had led a peasant uprising against the military and oligarchy in 1932. It ended in “La Matanza” (The Massacre), with perhaps thirty thousand killed—including Martí—in less than a month in retaliation for the rebellion.
This slaughter found an echo in the mounting atrocities committed by the Salvadoran military, armed by the Reagan administration. In just one example, the Atlacatl Battalion—trained and advised by the US military—killed as many as one thousand men, women, and children suspected of supporting the guerrillas in the northern village of El Mozote on December 11, 1981. This single massacre equaled the entire death toll of the Falklands War.
When New York Times reporter Raymond Bonner helped expose these killings in January 1982, Reagan officials viciously attacked his objectivity, denying the atrocity had taken place. Amid intense pressure from the administration, Bonner was transferred to another post, and the slaughter went on.
If most of the US populace looked away, The Clash was paying attention, with sixties icon Allen Ginsberg adding references to Salvadoran death squads to Combat Rock’s “Ghetto Defendant.” As with Sandinista!, the ghost of the Vietnam War hovered over the record, even as El Salvador was in danger of becoming another such quagmire, with the US drawn again into defending a corrupt and brutal ally in the name of “fighting communism.”
Behind the scenes, the CIA was working to unify fractious anti-Sandinista counterrevolutionaries—known as “contras”—into a fighting force to harry and ultimately overthrow that regime. Using clandestine allies like Israel and Argentina, Reagan extended his backyard offensive throughout the Central American and Caribbean region.
As The Clash pressed its own campaign on the concert trail, a seismic shift was occurring. Combat Rock was garnering strong reviews, but even greater sales. First, “Should I Stay or Should I Go” ascended the charts, replicating the success of “Train in Vain” three years earlier. Then a new video music channel, MTV, sent a second single, “Rock the Casbah,” into the Top 10. The endless gigging was exhausting, but The Clash was breaking big in the largest market in the world, headlining larger and larger venues.
Then The Clash got an unusual offer: the Who wanted the upstart unit to join a “farewell” American tour. Commercially, this was a no-brainer, exposing The Clash to an audience far beyond their existing one. Artistically, the appeal was less certain. The Who represented the “dinosaur rock” The Clash had set out to displace, and the band would be on enemy turf, playing huge stadiums.
The Baker knew where he stood: “We were packing up the gear after a show and [Clash guitar tech] Digby said to me, ‘What’s going on in the dressing room? The door is locked and there’s no fans in there.’ I ran back to the dressing room and found the band in heated discussion with Bernie and Kosmo about the prospect of supporting the Who. At the time it seemed to me that Mick was for it, Paul was on the fence, and Joe seemed to be just listening, undecided. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and resolved—against my better judgment—to offer my own protest even though I knew I was in danger of being told it was band business.”
The Baker cited all the obvious drawbacks, but to no avail: “The Bernie/Kosmo force majeure was pounding the table about ‘taking it to the next level’ and ‘competing with the music business on its own playing field.’ Tempers flared—I couldn’t believe we had come this far holding onto some of the most precious tenets of the early days, only to give in to big business. I was accused of being ‘unrealistic’ and trying to live in the past.”
When Rhodes shouted, “This ain’t fucking 1976!” The Baker gave up and stormed out of the dressing room. If beaten in the argument, he remained skeptical: “I felt Joe knew they were making a mistake but that there was nothing else to do. His unshakable trust in Bernie’s instincts once again won the day.”
In the end, the band decided it couldn’t turn down the money or the challenge. But it was one thing to decide to do it, and another to actually play on gigantic stages to a distant audience, many of whom had not come to see The Clash, and who were impatient to see the