or better or worse, we here at Stylus, in all of our autocratic consumer-crit greed, are slaves to timeliness. A record over six months old is often discarded, deemed too old for publication, a relic in the internet age. That's why each week at Stylus, one writer takes a look at an album with the benefit of time. Whether it has been unjustly ignored, unfairly lauded, or misunderstood in some fundamental way, we aim with On Second Thought to provide a fresh look at albums that need it.

Dauntless in its ambition, maniacal in its eclecticism, The Clash’s 1980 follow-up to their classic London Calling was a thirty-six track musical revolution named after a communist revolution in Nicaragua. Originally a triple album, now a double CD, Sandinista! is a lot to take in. At times, it’s almost an endurance test for the listener; not because the material is sub par—to the contrary, most of the tracks are outstanding—but because the Clash were relentless in their style-hopping and...well, it’s quite long for a single listen. Many have written that Sandinista! would have been superior if it was merely a double album versus a triple. Sure, there are a handful of tracks that aren’t entirely essential. Is the purely gag-version of “Career Opportunities” with children singing needed; is the zany, swinging lounger number, “Look Here”? Annoying guest-vocalist, Timon Dogg, ruins what may have been a decent song, “Lose This Skin”. And yes, the oft-surprising musical genres are great, but come on—that gospel number, ”The Sound Of Sinners”—sort of an indulgence, even if it is tongue-in-cheek. But there’s always going to be some tracks better than others, especially on an album of this size. In fact, the lesser tracks only emphasize the many peaks of Sandinista! and I wouldn’t trade in my initial mind-blowing of hearing it all together as a giant, insane mix-tape for a truncated Best Of Sandinista! Never, baby. When you’re as daring as The Clash were here, the scars only make the gems shine brighter. The only albums similar to Sandinista! are The White Album and the Grand Royal Beastie Boy work and they likewise have throwaway moments acting as great links to the stellar ones. No one would nit-pick if these few musical missteps were assigned B-side duty, so why nit-pick at all?

Personally, I prefer too much over too less. When you have a double album and a half worth of killer songs and only an EP worth of skip-overs, I’d say that’s quite impressive and moreover, generous. The Clash were being ultra-generous with Sandinista! and we should be grateful. Grateful that they dared to experiment and keep things exciting by constantly broadening their musical vocabulary. Grateful that they were one of the few groups that engaged in significant social/political commentary, while maintaining a sense of humor and fun—who else would do a disco song about the Cold War (“Ivan Meets G.I. Joe”) and illustrate its lyrics via comic-strip? Most importantly, we should be grateful for the following tracks that just get better and better...

“The Magnificent Seven”. Hot damn! I’m not one to throw the word ‘phat’ around a lot, but what the hell—this song is phat! Like Blondie with “Rapture”, the Clash displayed how hip they were by doing hip-hop before most white folks even knew what it was. Admittedly, everyone at this time was biting the funky bass-lines of Bernard Edwards (from Chic), but Clash bassist, Paul Simonon, did it better than anyone else. This is a tight funk here! Man! Joe Strummer’s lyrics too—his witty and colorful dissection of the working man—ranks up there with Dylan’s best wordplay. Anyone who rhymes “mobster” with “lobster” is all right in my book. And that bit about Marx in the 7-11—forget about it! The anti-war dance track, “The Call Up”, sounds like a slower and darker “Into The Groove” (recorded several years later) with a production—like Brian Eno’s Talking-Heads work—that helped to shape the sound of 1980s pop. “Junco Partner” is a tenacious and joyful piece of reggae. “Police On My Back” is a riotous, old school Clash rocker, but with even sharper, more focused singing. “Kingston Advice” still to this day sounds like nothing ever recorded; I don’t even know how to describe the song—weird-ass Clash song—there—that’s the best I can do. With purely experimental pieces like “Mensforth Hill” and “Silicone on Sapphire”, the Clash picked up where the Beatles left off with “Revolution 9” and while they were at it, they heavily foreshadowed much of the edgier electronica of the past ten years. The most prevailing stylistic influence is Jamaican, but unlike the whiteboy posturing of cornball ska—like so many of those acts in the late 1990s—the Clash offer deep Reggae and even deeper Dub. One of my favorite parts of the album is when the great “One More Time” transforms into the totally wicked “One More Dub”. With help from version mixer, Mikey Dread, the Clash cut some authentic jamming here. On the whole, the Mick Jones songs aren’t as good as his songs on London Calling (there’s nothing on the level of “Train In Vain” and “Lost In The Supermarket”), but his tunes are still pretty crisp and catchy. “Hitsville U.K.” is a driving piece of righteous Euro-pop that makes me all smiles. And his occasional rocking numbers, “Somebody Got Murdered” and “Up In Heaven” keep the pace of the album up. A greater role for Simonon and drummer, Topper Headon, help to give the band greater strength rhythmically than they had prior and Joe Strummer—the deceased hero of this show—was at his ferocious, charismatic peak as Clash front man.

I have to be say it again—be grateful for Sandinista!. Be grateful that there were once artists in the musical industry that cared to be the best. The Clash cared about the world and their music—so much so, they opened themselves up to everything. And with so much nothing nowadays, we could use some everything...even if it’s from a twenty two year-old album.