The Clash
The Singles

THE REVIEW

This is the story of a 16-year-old boy stuck in a gazebo in the summer heat, making sandwiches and serving drinks. He's an intern, so he's paid terribly and has to do the most menial tasks while his friends are out having fun at the beach.

But he doesn't care. Because during those days, he only thinks about one thing. He has just made an exceptional discovery: rock'n'roll.

All that matters to him is what's playing on the stereo when it's his turn to be in the poolside gazebo-sauna: the album "The Singles" by The Clash.

He plays it on loop, at deafening volume, and customers even complain at the reception about the noise.

But he doesn't care. He's 16 and has just discovered rock'n'roll.

Do you think he can understand at that age that not everyone considers the Clash the most important band in the world, as he does?

How can a boy at that age understand that not everyone feels the same, especially about something as personal as music?

Impossible.

For him, that music is wonderful; it speaks his language, and he can't comprehend that others might think differently.

Maybe the German tourists on vacation, while basking in the Italian sun by the pool, prefer to listen to the latest summer hit (for the record, it was 2005, so the Black Eyed Peas, Green Day, and Negroamaro were big) rather than punk classics like "White Riot," "Remote Control," and especially "White Man (In Hammersmith Palais)" (Yes, especially her).

Of course, that obtuse and happy boy who was immensely afraid of chopping off his fingers while cutting bread for mozzarella and tomato sandwiches was me.

That summer of 2005 was an important one for me.

A bit of everything happened, from the first crush, the first real friends, the first issue of Mucchio bought, my first summer season as a waiter, and the discovery of the Clash.

All things that had an enormously significant impact on my life, practically all of equal intensity.

Take the Clash. It's been 9 years now that they've been my favorite band. Say what you like.

I've listened to a myriad of bands since then, oh, but from there, from the top, a tullì smovi.

Surely because they are tied to that summer and everything it brought. How they intertwined perfectly with my personal life at that moment and how they became both soundtrack and foundation.

How they appeared in my life at the right moment and have stayed ever since.

The first Clash album I bought was indeed this one. I had just read Jack Fusciante è uscito dal gruppo, so you know why I chose them to start my musical adventure.

From White Riot sung at the top of my lungs on a scooter to pitiful dances to This Is Radio Clash.

From memorizing the lyrics to Train In Vain (One of the most important songs of the '80s. Released in '79, though) to air guitar in Remote Control (those 10 seconds of the solo).

And to White Man In Hammersmith Palais, one of the songs that best represents their greatness and what they mean to me.

Of course, it's a personal matter because it's hard to pinpoint the best piece in a giant band like the Clash, considering the dozens of genres they explored in just 5 years ("They showed the world how big and varied it was, shortening many distances. And that's the most important thing of all." I quote myself..).

But this song has it all. A reggae mixed with the punk of the debut album just a few months earlier, a melodically epic simplicity, an anti-racist and fascist (but also no-global, anti-system, anti-capitalism: they were confusing times those..) text that I made a way of life, Joe's good voice more incisive than ever.

In short, everything that can shock a 16-year-old the first time he hears it, this song has it.

Because, guys, discovering the Clash at 16 is like... discovering the Clash at 16, period.