Why the Clash’s “Sandinista!” Deserves Way More Respect

I explore the multitudes contained in the British punk outfit’s monstrous 3 LP extravaganza.

This album review explores the multitudes contained in the British punk outfit’s monstrous 3 LP extravaganza.

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Genre: Rock, Alternative, Reggae

Label: CBS

Release Date: December 12, 1980

Vibe: 🖕

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👉 Click the GIF to stream the album on your favorite platform

The story of Sandinista!, the Clash’s 1980 project, actually begins in 1979, a few weeks before they released what many consider to be their magnum opus, London Calling. Their own label, CBS, initially denied their request to release the album as a double LP, partly because the group planned to sell it for the price of a single. The compromise? Include a free 12-inch vinyl, though that ultimately became a nine-track disc instead. The kicker here is that, after London Calling wound up selling millions worldwide and clawed its way to or near the top of the album charts in several countries, CBS suddenly had no qualms about Bruce Springsteen’s The River, a double LP that became his fastest-selling studio effort to that point. In true Clash fashion, the band decided to embrace the idea of abundance and, in frontman Joe Strummer’s words, be “triply outrageous.”

Because it stretches across 3 LPs and 36 tracks (for those keeping score at home, that’s a running time of 144 minutes), it’s often gotten a bad rap for being overly ambitious, a sentiment that gets me supremely irritated. Who gets to decide when creative ambition becomes off-putting? What precisely determines if a record is too much? At the time of its initial release, the critical establishment harped on how “not punk” the music was, taking explorations of disco, funk, reggae, calypso, jazz fusion, and early industrial as an out-and-out betrayal. But I’d argue that the glee with which the band burns any notion of what their sound “should sound like” to the ground, all in the name of exploring new, exciting ideas, is the most punk act of all. As Miles taught us in 1970 and 1974, genre conventions are for suckers.

By the time the Clash were gearing up to record Sandinista!, they had earned enough leverage to make essentially whatever they wanted. The group—Strummer, guitarist Mick Jones, bassist Paul Simonon, and drummer Topper Headon—had already shown signs they wanted to move past the sonic confines of punk on London Calling, but on this album, they blew through that intersection Axel Foley-style. Inspired by the work of Lee “Scratch” Perry, best known for producing several of Bob Marley’s most influential records, they focused on achieving a new level of radical inclusivity, presenting themselves as curators of a global sound. Miraculously, they accomplish that without sacrificing any of their essence, which has always been giving voice to the dispossessed. After all, the album is named after the Nicaraguan socialist party that, in 1979, overthrew the U.S.-backed Somoza dictatorship (the exclamation point implies endorsement, although the band did so before widespread reporting of the FSLN’s human rights violations).

From the opening few seconds of Sandinista!, it’s clear this isn’t punk as most listeners had known it to that point. “The Magnificent Seven,” one of the Clash’s very best songs, rolls in like a subway train from another dimension. A disco bassline and funk guitar flourishes, both reminiscent of Chic’s Rodgers-Edwards magic, are swimming in dub delay, giving it a delightfully spacy quality. Strummer’s lead vocal is caught somewhere between an underground sermon and a proto-rap freestyle. He’d been hanging around the nascent hip-hop scene in New York, which was still mostly confined to block parties, and latched onto the avant-garde nature of its early sound. Jones and Strummer would later help further define that sonic profile with their Big Audio Dynamite collabs.

The lyrical content of “The Magnificent Seven” was also a pivotal moment in pop culture. It proved you could use hip-hop to rhyme about pressing social issues rather than claiming your cat as a dependent on your tax returns. The title refers not to the Western remake of the same name, but to the number of hours the central character must work at his minimum wage grocery store job in a typical workday. By the way he talks, he’s already been swallowed whole by capitalist expectation, grinding away so he can buy expensive items for himself and his girlfriend. “It’s no good for man to work in cages,” Strummer proclaims at one point. “Hits the town, he drinks his wages.” It’s all surreal and hilarious, but also sad in the moments where you see a recognizable world reflected back at you, one that hasn’t changed in 45-plus years. It should come as no surprise, then, that the track was a massive inspiration for the likes of Public Enemy’s Chuck D, who said this song marked the moment when he “started to pay attention” to rap’s possibilities.

Then comes “Hitsville U.K.,” which completely flips the vibe. It’s a love letter to indie culture before that term even existed in common parlance. Sung by Jones and his then-partner Ellen Foley, the song imagines a parallel universe where major labels don’t matter and small DIY labels are changing the world. You could argue that we live in that universe now, though it’s not necessarily the freewheeling marketplace he describes in the song. Right after that, the vibe switches yet again on “Junco Partner,” a cover of a New Orleans R&B standard that’s refashioned as an echo-drenched reggae dirge about addiction and survival. The song’s lineage, which began in prison work camps, mirrors the record’s own epic sprawl. As it is throughout most of this album, Headon’s drumming is utterly hypnotic, fitting seamlessly with Simonon’s bass sounds to form one of the best grooves on this tracklist.

At this point, I’d like to group some Sandinista! highlights together by style and intent, in part so you can enjoy its distinctive strands in all their glory. If you’re into the band’s funkier material, folding in elements of R&B and dance culture, check out “Ivan Meets G.I. Joe,” “Lightning Strikes (Not Once But Twice),” “The Crooked Beat,” and my personal favorite, “Let’s Go Crazy.” If you’re more inclined toward straightforward rock, prioritize “Somebody Got Murdered,” “Police on My Back,” and “Kingston Advice,” which, confusingly, is not one of their reggae-leaning compositions. Speaking of, see “One More Dub,” “Washington Bullets,” and “Broadway” if you’re in the mood for Caribbean sounds, and “Look Here,” “Mensforth Hill,” and the outstanding “Silicone on Sapphire” if you’re up for the stranger, more out-there tracks. When I say there’s something here for everyone, or, more accurately, every taste, I mean it.

By the time Sandinista! reaches its home stretch, the experimental nature of the Clash’s approach turns this collection of songs into an infinitely listenable mess. It’s punk rock as pirate radio theatre, repositioning rock as a genre that could make open-world adventure possible on tape. Each track feels so unique and yet is borne out of the same restless frequency, refusing to stay in a single lane long enough to let you get comfortable. The protests are couched in playful irony, with the most overt example being “Charlie Don’t Surf,” which suggests that cultural revolution will be inherited and reinterpreted, rather than won or lost definitively by a single entity. That’s also the message of “Career Opportunities,” which closes the album with a wink and a warning in the form of a children’s choir delivering the lines. Part of me thinks it’s even more haunting than those kids on that Pink Floyd record we all know the words to.

These days, Sandinista! plays like a well-worn cross-genre template. You can trace its DNA through acts like the Gorillaz, M.I.A., Run the Jewels, and anyone who’s ever tried to fuse rebellion with rhythm. What critics once dismissed as chaos is now discussed as a utopian vision of music without any borders, hang-ups, hierarchies, or gatekeepers. The Clash built a sonic world big enough for us all to fumble around in, whether that means engaging with politics, heartbreak, hope, or even just having a laugh. If that isn’t the true sign of greatness, I’m not sure what is.