WNEW | Where Rock Lives

Misheard Lyrics "Shar'iah don't like it"?

They said what? Rock lyrics aren't always easy to understand, and misinterpretations can spark snickers, outrage, or sometimes both. Fear not! Each Tuesday, David Thomas translates some of these misheard lyrics for you ...

I was listing the bands I’ve seen – and how often I’ve caught each one live – in my head the other day, and it emerges that the act I’ve seen more than any other is the Clash. Four times, or perhaps five, assuming that the time at the Music Machine was an actual memory rather than a deeply-embedded lie.

They were a great live band, except for the last time, when they were merely very good; somehow they’d mutated into a five piece and it just wasn’t the same. Nevertheless, the Clash could put on a show, and vindicated the punk principle that you didn’t have to play very well to sound fantastic. Neither do you have to be able to sing very well, for the late Joe Strummer, for all that he was a charismatic frontman who cared deeply about music, really couldn’t hold a tune or enunciate a lyric. I did hear a story that he bit the end of his tongue off in gym class, but that might have been Mick Jagger.

Anyhow, Joe’s vocal stylings have seldom been an issue, but one day, my wife turned to me in the car and said “that’s shar’iah don’t like it, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Joe’s bemoaning the hostility of the Islamic legal code to western decadence and perhaps commenting on Sayyid Qutb’s implacable hatred of all things American. It’s not like they met; the Egyptians hanged him in the ’60s.” We were somewhere outside Manassas and what with listening to Jack Diamond’s patter, I’d forgotten the exact date. Nevertheless, I was strictly speaking, wrong, although we were both right, more or less, about the song’s message.

You see, the chorus of Rock the Casbah, isn’t shari’ah. It's shareef. Shareef,sometimes transcribed from the Arabic as sharif, designates a protector of tribal assets like wells and often means a local copper of some sort. It’s a false cognate with the English sheriff, although both officers do the same kind of thing.

Shareef makes perfect sense in the context of the song, which describes an air strike on a qasba (citadel) perhaps the Casbah, or walled old town of Algiers, by some unspecified monarch’s fighter-bombers, because the locals are rocking out to guitar music accompanied by Bedouin percussion, something that the shareef feels isn’t kosher. That should probably be halal (“allowed,” although haraam – “forbidden” – would have been more accurate) except that Joe was a London boy and kosher is slang for permissible.

So the song’s partially about the institutional resistance to western values in the Near East. It’s also about disapproval of cross-fertilization between cultures – the king has already told the boogie men to cease playing raga (Indian melodies) and it’s established that the Casbah musicians jive. Whether that one is intended precisely (it can mean rock and roll, '40s dancing or, in Hinduism an individual’s higher soul) is another matter, but the message is clear; the authorities in the song hate anything that “degenerates the faithful.” Hypocritically, the shareef has no objections to riding in a Cadillac, but that’s rulers for you …
 
Taken with the video, which shows people in Hassidic and Arabic dress sharing a car and boogieing around Texas oil wells, Rock the Casbah was obviously intended as an argument for multiculturalism, or at least for acceptance, as Joe Strummer’s appalled reaction when he heard that the song’s title had been painted on Desert Storm warheads demonstrates.

Sadly the embedding for the Clash’s video has been disabled on YouTube, but there’s something that makes the point even better; Rachid Taha’s raï-tinged cover version, with Arabic lyrics and a rhythm section to die for. Rock El Casbah indeed.

Did that clear things up? Let us know in a post ....

Video Classics: 'Rock the Casbah'

To honor WNEW's legendary Firecracker 500, every day we are highlighting the music that populated the 1991 and 1996 lists, with classic videos, live performances and little-known facts about the songs and how they came to be...

While it is unclear whether or not the Clash's 1982 hit, Rock the Casbah was written specifically about the  Ayatollah Khomeini's ban of rock music in Iran, it makes a good story, and is so often told that it bears repeating here. While the song doesn't mention Iran or any other Islamic nation, specifically, it tells the story of a Middle Eastern nation where rock music is banned, then goes into a fantastic account of how the people defy the order and rise up to dance in the streets. The military is sent out to stop them, but instead join in the revolt, fighter pilots playing rock music in their cockpit radios. It is one of the very few songs in rock's discography to deal (however tangentially) with Middle Eastern affairs in a light-hearted manner. Even so, the fact that a punk band was dealing with any ideology other than anarchism was unusual. Still, the Clash were more political than most punks, and became known as 'the Thinking Man's Yobs.'

Rock the Casbah appeared on the album Combat Rock, and became the band's only Top 10 hit, reaching #8 on the U.S. charts. It comes in at #457 and #401 on the 1991 and 1996 Firecracker 500 lists, respectively. According to the liner notes, the song had its genesis when manager Bernie Rhodes heard the Clash record an excessively long album track and complained 'Does everything have to be as long as this raga?' (referring to the Indian music style known for long, complex songs). Joe Strummer wrote the opening lines of the song "The King told the boogie-men 'you have to let that raga drop'" and the rest came soon after.

The video below for Rock the Casbah is typical of the Clash's low budget efforts, but for all that, it comes off pretty well. Filmed in Austin, TX, it features local actors playing an Arab and Jew rocking through the streets (as well as being followed by an armadillo). The U.S. Air Force became an unwitting participant when two jets landing at a nearby air base were caught on film and used to accompany the line 'the king called out his jet fighters'. After the jump, check out a version of the song as it was performed live, which sounds substantially different from the studio version (even allowing for the relatively low quality of the tape).

  

Forgotten Favorites: Give 'Em Enough Rope

Some albums are just too good to let slip away beneath the sands of time, so each week Bill Melville pulls one out, dusts it off and offers it up for your renewed consideration ...

Every Clash album comes with a label -- their debut and London Calling both earned their stripes as classics, Combat Rock marked their commercial breakthrough, and Sandinista! was an exercise in excess and rampant self-indulgence. Cut the Crap is just plain ironic given its low quality.

Give 'Em Enough Rope could only be called the Unjustly Ignored Album.

The Clash are still hungry punks on Rope, pushing boundaries within punk constraints. Though often seen as the album before London Calling and barely mentioned otherwise, the band remains bombastic and intelligent throughout.

Safe European Home blasts ahead with the bludgeoning twin guitar attack typical of the Clash. It doesn’t hide its roots in Clash City Rockers and 1977, but stretches out the Clash’s sound.

English Civil War features pieces of folk ballads, essentially creating the template the Pogues would follow in Ireland. Traditional music was no longer the sole province of folkies -- punk’s attitude could convey it just as effectively.

Drums propel Tommy Gun through some dry punk riffing. What it lacks in inspired lyrics it recaptures in sheer energy. Julie’s Been Working on the Drug Squad marks the album’s greatest deviation from its sound, with a piano taking the lead. Here the Clash demonstrate the relativity of punk. Jerry Lee Lewis flashed the same attitude and reckless musical abandon a generation earlier. They ably evoke him with a few frantic piano runs on Drug Squad.

The Chopping Block: The Clash

I know, I know. London Calling is untouchable, the best album by 'the only band that matters.’ The accolades for this 19-song album go on and on, with even the famously grumpy Robert Christgau giving it an A-plus. And it only adds to the greatness of London Calling that the Clash insisted it be sold for the same price as a single LP.

Still, it is a double album, and all double albums, even ones as supposedly perfect as this one, have their share of chaff.

Enough reverence. Let’s go after this one with extreme prejudice:

I’m going to start out by killing the title track because, in my humble opinion, it sucks. In her review of the 2004 anniversary edition of London Calling, Pitchfork's Amanda Petrusich characterized the Mick Jones' stacato guitar punches as ‘little nails into our skulls.’ I think she meant it as a compliment; I’d like to use it as an insult. Also, I find myself unable to take it seriously ever since the twerps over at the National Broadcasting Corporation used it as the theme song for their coverage of the 2008 Wimbledon tournament. Oh, and did I mention this song sucks?

Their cover of Brand New Cadillac, originally done by British rocker Vince Taylor, ain’t bad. But there’s no way I’m starting this album with a cover, even though 'The Black Leather Rebel' is all but forgotten these days. Chop.

Song number three is Jimmy Jazz and, though it starts off slow and sleepy, I’ll allow its low-key charm, despite the fact that the late, great Joe Strummer seems unable to decide whether to spell the main character’s name ‘J-A-Zee-Zee’ or ‘J-A-Zed-Zed.’

I wouldn’t want to touch the dizzy, frantic Hateful, which is about the conflicted relationship of a drug addict to his dealer. Rudie Can’t Fail is another good one, horn-filled and altogether happy-sounding, unless you stop to listen to the lyrics, which are about living up to adult responsibility. Bummer.

Spanish Bombs might be the best song on the album, even though the chorus is indistinguishable from the verses (except for Topper Headon’s awesome drum fills). It’s also kind of depressing, from a lyrical standpoint, being about various human rights atrocities committed during the Spanish Civil War.

The Right Profile is interesting, in that it’s about the overdosing death of Hollywood pretty boy Montgomery Clift. But damn, it’s a chore to sit through, as those sassy horns go on forever. Chop.

Lost in the Supermarket is a stone classic, thanks to the affecting lead vocal by Mick Jones (though it was written by Strummer). It’ supposed to be about consumerism or something, but who cares? If you don’t smile for the line, ‘I wasn’t born so much as I fell out,’ you need to lighten up. Clampdown isn’t quite as good but it’s still a strong entry. It stays.

Bassist Paul Simonon –- he’s the guy smashing his guitar on the cover –- takes the lead vocal on the reggae-inspired The Guns of Brixton, probably because he wrote it. You can hear the nervousness in his voice, which is kind of endearing. (According to legend, a CBS exec wandered into the recording booth as the vocal was being cut.)

After a false take and some studio chatter, Wrong ‘Em Boyo starts in earnest. Meh. Chop.

Death or Glory may not be the best song on the album, but it certainly is the most inspiring. Over what might be the Clash’s best-ever guitar riff (yes, I’m aware of Should I Stay or Should I Go), Strummer serves up a litany of glorified failures and near misses, only to face them all down with a vow ‘to fight a long time.’ It’s been said that producer Guy Stevens threw a chair while listening to the band bang out this anthem.

Corporate advertising broadside Koka Kola is an extended burp. We can lose it with no problem.

The Card Cheat covers familiar territory –- failing with dignity –- but it sounds positively epic, thanks to Jones’ gospel-tinged piano licks. Whoever decided it should fade out is a moron. Lover’s Rock is just about the only Clash song I can think of that might sound appropriate in a chewing gum commercial. That’s not a good thing. Chop.

Four Horsemen might have sounded good back on side one, but buried here on side four, it sounds superfluous. Come to think of it, so does I’m Not Down.

Revolution Rock has some nice, dirty horns and Strummer exhorting listeners to ‘smash your seats and rock to this brand new beat.’ Too bad it’s about three minutes too long. Chop.

I’d have to be an idiot to chop closer Train in Vain, one of the best straight pop songs of the 1980s (despite being released in December 1979).

Ladies and Gentlemen, the new and improved London Calling:

Jimmy Jazz, Hateful, Rudie Can’t Fail, Spanish Bombs, Lost in the Supermarket, Clampdown, The Guns of Brixton, Death or Glory, The Card Cheat, Train in Vain.

A Happy Birthday to Joe Strummer!

On this day, 56 years ago, history would forever be unwritten.

John Graham Mellor, better known by most as Joe Strummer, was born August 21, 1952 in Ankara, Turkey. Most know the story by now -- the son of a diplomat and school teacher, the young Mellor made his way throughout England's most prestigious public school as an outcast in the way of a true punk rocker, rebelling against education in favor of music, listening to the Who and Rolling Stones rather than studying for math, and ultimately choosing to go to a more free-thinking art school, against the will of his father. Eventually, Mellor found a guitar and a name, then the 101ers, and finally, Bernie Rhodes, and well, the rest is the history.

On a day in which we remember one of rock's great pioneers, its hard not to think of what could have been. What if the Clash had never broken up, instead defying the wishes of Rhodes, and continuing to experiment and dabble in music styles that would forever transcend the genre? What if Strummer's solo work had been accepted sooner? What if that impromptu reunion on November 22, 2002 foreshadowed the future, marking Mick Jones' willingness to corporate with Strummer's dreams of a full-fledged return of the Clash?

But then, like so many other greats, part of Joe Strummer's legacy is the aura of uncertainty, the unanswered questions surrounding a musician whose potential and talents far exceeded even his persona. Instead, as I sit back and listen to his passionate words that brilliantly echo throughout so many of my favorite songs, I like to think of what Strummer did do -- the sounds, the styles, the wisdom that he delivered for nearly 30 years. He defined what it is to be a modern day frontman, the need for not only a larger than life attitude, but the ability to deliver a message in such a way that the sincerity and passion can't help but leave you speechless. During his time with both the Clash and as a solo artist, he crossed genre lines, willing to experiment in every form of music, from reggae and hip-hop to traditional afrobeat and tropical folk - ultimately inspiring many others, not only punk bands, to diversify their style. Even at the end of his life, Strummer was as persistent and stubborn as he was in the days before joining the Clash, never willing to give up on a lyric, a song, a belief, regardless of the doubters or lack of success.

These are just a few of the so many characteristics that make Joe Strummer a role model for not only myself, but countless others. You don't have to be a musician or even a fan to appreciate Strummer and realize his importance and influence even today. In fact, his legacy is still being written, just as Strummer probably would have wanted it. 

Video Classics: 'Should I Stay or Should I Go'

The Clash were part of the original wave of British punk, but their only #1 single, Should I Stay or Should I Go, has a much more retro feel to it than most of the other music they were recording at the time, drawing heavily on more traditional rock roots. The song, while released in 1982, didn't hit #1 on the UK charts until its 9th reissue in 1991, the same year it made #259 on WNEW's Firecracker 500.

An interesting story surrounds the lyrics' unusual Spanish background vocals. According to lead singer Joe Strummer (and courtesy of Wikipedia) ...

'On the spur of the moment I said 'I'm going to do the backing vocals in Spanish,'...We needed a translator so Eddie Garcia, the tape operator, called his mother in Brooklyn Heights and read her the lyrics over the phone and she translated them. But Eddie and his mum are Ecuadorian, so it's Ecuadorian Spanish that me and Joe Ely are singing on the backing vocals.'

The Clash give an intense hard-hitting live performance in the following concert video.  Not to be missed are Strummer's and Paul Simonon's fancy footwork during the instrumental bridge before the final chorus.