Joe Strummer & the Mescaleros
Streetcore

As far as I'm concerned, the Clash were the greatest rock band of all time. I have loved U2 almost equally, but I never found them as innovative and direct. I have learned to appreciate the Rolling Stones, and when I was ten, my dad bought my brother and me all the original 45 RPM records of the Beatles, resulting in me having about twenty Beatles singles today, which translates into a decent capital in euros!
But the Clash, no! I discovered them on my own, late, almost at the end, with the video for "Rock the Casbah," which was in "high rotation" thanks to Carlo Massarini, and from there I worked my way back, discovering and buying, one by one, almost all the precious gems of their discography.

Twenty years later, an album by Joe Strummer is released, posthumous no less; can I ever be impartial in reviewing it?
The de-baserian code of good conduct requires it of me, so I will try to be.
Let's start by saying that this is a BEAUTIFUL, INTENSE, FULL, and TRUE album (despite the code).

To be honest, I was very hesitant to purchase another work by J.S. (I had previously bought "Earthquake Weather" and was disappointed by it) and posthumous at that, given the usual poor quality of posthumous albums, often reduced to being documentary works if not mere commercial operations. But this time too, the choice of the heart prevailed, and it was especially rewarded.

While having another glass of mezcal with his companions from his last journey through the notes, Joe Strummer gives us the real final chapter of the Clash's story, which was certainly not that "Cut the Crap" he himself later renounced paternity for.
After all, there had long been talk of a rumored reunion of the group ever since they were celebrated at the "Hall of Fame" a couple of years ago.

Streetcore opens with the progression of "Coma Girl," a track that could easily be among the scores of "London Calling," and the fever of white reggae, which the Clash knew how to blend so well with rock, lives again in "Get Down Moses"; just as in the subsequent "Long Shadow," there's an echo of the last Johnny Cash produced by Rick Rubin, who also takes on the role of producer here, though a bit less invasive than usual (cf. R.H.C.P.), and that might not be a bad thing.
But the album absolutely touches the heartstrings with "Arms Aloft" as the leap back in memory lands right on "London's Burning," where a powerful guitar, I dare not think what it could have been had Mick Jones played it, and the choruses, bring back emotions buried under the ashes of time, along with the never truly hidden tomahawk of the “aristocratic antagonist” Strummer.
The "solo" version of "Redemption Song" is poignant and full, but unfortunately for me, too similar to the same "B-side" version by Bob Marley. Finally, "Burnin' Streets" is a masterpiece ballad, but it's with "Silver and Gold" that the last notes and the sadness for what could have been and will never be drift away slowly and afar.

The rating is only 4 because 5 or maybe 6, I would have given exclusively to the Clash.