Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros
Rock Art And The X-Ray Style
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Joe Strummer
Rock Art And The X-Ray Style
Epitaph, 1999
RiYL: Peter Gabriel, Bruce Springsteen |
It has been an endless winter here in New York. Endless, I tell you. Since December, the snow has been delivered here weekly, dropped from the sky into massive piles. Those piles eventually melt into slush and sooner or later the slush melts into flooded drains and finally it's sunny for one afternoon and the rain starts to evaporate. Then it rains, ices, and snows again the next day.
Of course, the weather is only half of it. This is a rough time. Orange Terror alerts are driving me mad. A crap economy has put me out of a job. Nuclear threats are being shouted in the Far East. Nations around the globe are fighting about America's impending war with Iraq. It has been a long, long winter.
To make matters a little worse, Joe Strummer is dead. Honestly, I'm amazed at how much his passing has affected me. An enormous sense of loss came over me after he died in late December 2001. And like the infinite wrath of mother nature, it still haunts me me now while I trudge through middle March 2002. For a period of maybe a week or two in February I thought I'd reached some sort of closure on Joe's death, but my bereavement returned again slowly. Maybe it has something to do with the hype around The Clash's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction or the Springsteen-Costello-Grohl tribute at the Grammy's last week. But I believe it has more to do with the awful winter and all of its darkness that makes Joe's death seem more significant.
I've been listening this past week to Rock Art and The X-Ray Style. It's Joe's first album with the Mescaleros and his first new music after an extended break. Now obviously, this isn't the best album of his 25-year career. But it is an important record to consider and celebrate in the wake of its creator's passing. It represents a return for our hero -- his first album in a decade. No, his voice isn't quite all there yet. The production on the songs is a bit stiff. But Joe is clearly excited about his return, eager to essentially start a new career with a new band. And, as always, his energy is infectious.
On "Tony Adams," the album's opener, you can envision him rising from a swamp of obscurity. He backs himself with a thick reggae groove and tosses off his funk proudly. On "Techno D-Day," the singer burns with the same anger he spewed back in his Clash heyday, spitting ominous warnings about our civilization's future. A few songs later, on "Nitcomb," he tells folks, "It's gonna take a nitcomb to get rid of me because I just realized it was meant to be." He's a proud man. He's unveiling his vision of the Mescaleros and he's excited about all the different possibilities they offer.
I think it's this album's optimistic energy that I am so hooked on. The music is hypnotic, the songs always over four minutes long. The Meskies put down a beat, Joe puts down a melody, and together they work it over and over a dozen times. Here's the thing though: They start songs that don't even sound strong at first but then build them slowly into inspiring numbers. Every time I hear the opening of "Nitcomb," I'm slightly disappointed for some reason. But every time I reach its end, I am blown away emotionally. Joe's voice is so full of hope, the music so full of graceful movement, it's moving. It's just so easy to hear these songs and just think, "These guys were just getting warmed up."
Naturally, listening to this record can get depressing. There's a certain cycle to this mourning. The music and Joe's vibe make me feel better about things like the economy for about 20 minutes. And then I start thinking about the personal irony of the songs and I go down again. I start picturing Art Rock Joe heading toward a new creative peak in his career, while simultaneously unaware he was heading toward his own death. I wish Joe could be here to sing about the Iraqi invasion. And I wish he would be coming to town soon to perform these songs and deliver us some new wisdom.
But I try to keep those sorts of thoughts in check. X-Ray has so many inspired elements to honor here. The innocence in Joe's voice on songs like "X-Ray Style," "Road to Rock and Roll" and closer "Willesden to Cricklewood." The perfect rock groove of the "Forbidden City" chorus. The great break beats of "Yalla Yalla" where the guitar feedback sounds like Orcas mating. And Global A Go-Go has even more great moments. With any luck, his third and soon-to-be released unfinished album will be provide one last great recording to celebrate this man.
I'm listening right now to "Diggin The New." Not the best track on the album, but its opening reminds me of his glorious past and Clash songs like "Police On My Back." I like how Joe keeps yelling, "You gotta live in this world" over and over. Listening to songs like this one, I am working extra hard to put myself in the right frame of mind. Trying to be empowered by its message rather than depressed by it. Its surely sad that Joe is gone and war is here. But it's reassuring to know the music on this record -- not to mention all the music on his better records -- will outlive the bad economy, the war and the bereavement that plagues us now. I heard a newscaster say "the days are getting longer" last night. This winter will be over soon enough.
BEN FRENCH | Ben founded NATN in the winter of 1998-1999 with fellow IU alums Troy Carpenter and Jonathan Cohen. During the day time, he's working for Nielsen Business Media, publisher of Billboard. Ben's favorite acts include Bruce Springsteen, The Clash, Sonic Youth, Elvis Costello, Talking Heads, Rolling Stones, and the Beach Boys.