The Clash - (1977) US Version

It was the middle of the summer of my 11th year, and I was a young girl who had just bought two of the most famous punk albums. What were they? Nevermind the Bollocks, and the album I'm reviewing; the Clash. Nevermind the Bollocks was never more than a handful of listens for me, after all, what did I know about anarchy, the UK, or the ****ing Queen? The Sex Pistols were fun for a few minutes. The Clash was the encyclopedia of life. Sure, that year I did cut off my long hair to resemble Johnny Rotten, but I still was humming Career Opportunities when I was perfecting my liberty spikes. The Clash would become more than just a passion, they would become an education.

Janie Jones was the first song I listened to on the album, which I must have played twenty times after hearing it, and I was in love with the militant drum beat, the scratchy guitar, and Joe Strummer's gruff voice.. I immediately made it my song with my boyfriend at the time, because after all, we were in love with rock 'n roll, whoa, we were in love with getting stoned whoa. I was his Janie Jones. But then, I found out who Janie Jones actually was, which made that a little awkward.

Janie Jones - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia


I had no one during these times, or at least not anyone who was brave enough to scratch the surface of the angry girl I'd become, but I had the Clash. "I don't trust you, so why do you trust me?" I'd repeat it in my head whenever I'd come up against all the people I hated, no one had my best interests at heart. They wanted me to become a prim, proper Christian good girl, and I just wanted to stay in the garage all night. That wasn't okay, and I fought and fought. What's My Name spoke too loudly to the deliquent in me, I respected no one. Yes, in the end, I did fight the law, and the law did win.

Career Opportunities told me it was okay to not want to be one of them, and when they wouldn't stop telling me with the way I looked, and the things I wanted, I'd never amount to anything, I'd just turn it up louder.

"I'm So Bored with the USA" echoed the things I'd feel when up against my conservative parents. To them, America was the greatest country in America, and I was evil for questioning it. My grandfathers fought for our freedom, was the constant refrain. I wanted a world away from all the McDreams shoved down my throat, and this was proof it existed.

Hate and War made it clear enough that this world was not as dandy as they wanted to pretend. Not only that but it was true enough for me, "I have the will to survive, I cheat if I can't win, if someone locks me out, I kick my way back in". If someone else could sing about it, then how could it be wrong for me to feel the same?

Garageland was all about not becoming what they wanted me to, to me. For all the offers for my life they'd ring up with, I wanted to be among the music. Everyone else could be moulded in any ways their parents moved their hands, but I was staying.

White Man has a particularly funny memory with me. In the documentary "Westway to the World", the song plays during a part where bassist Paul Simonon takes off his shirt. I must have rewinded this scene fifteen times, everytime I watched it. Dear Paul will always have a special place in my heart, for not only is he the first man I was fully attracted to and the standard for all men then on, he also inspired me to pick up the bass guitar. "Oh please mister, just leave me alone, I'm only lookin', for fun" would be the line that defined my teenage years to come, and I felt it was sung just for me, an all night, drug prowlin wolf, who looked so sick in the sun


At the end of it all, when I was tired of fighting the opposing forces, Police and Thieves would be there to soothe me.I knew nothing about the words, what the meant, who Junior Murvin was or anything. I didn't care, because it was my sweetest lullaby.