Because finally it's the sensibility that must survive—the sensibility that thinks in terms of class and means to bring home to us the conflicts that underlie every one of our lives. If it comes to that, I'll even settle for hobbyists, a few genius musicians making overpriced direct-to-disc collector's items for 10,000 connoisseurs of raw power. That'll be enough to keep the word alive. As the Clash sing on—and about—"Hate & War": "And if I close my eyes/It will not go away/We have to deal with it/It is the currency." No matter how many people are resisting right now, they're going to find out eventually that these ill-mannered boys are right.

Consumer Guide
Although the exceptions are significant, most English punk is unreleased in the Yew Ess Ay, and some of it will remain so. That puts the seeker at the mercy of importers and makes genuine discount buying next to impossible. Many Village record stores now stock some "new wave," but the best selection by far is at Bleecker Bob's Golden Oldies, 179 MacDougal, 475-9677. Discophile, around the corner at 26 West 8th, employs a well-respected enthusiast named Michael: you should ask for him if you phone (473-1902) or drop in. Both shops charge around $7 for an album, $3 for an EP, and $2 for a single. Cheaper but more out of the way is Fantasia, at 4752 Broadway near Dyckman Street in Washington Heights, 942-9188. The two major import distributors—the rock-oriented Jem (Box 362, South Plainfield, New Jersey 07080) and Peters International (619 West 54th Street, NYC 10019) both do retail mail-order. Rough Trade, 202 Kensington Park Road, London W11, England, will also mail, and is worth visiting should you find yourself nearby, as is Rock On, 3 Kentish Town Road.

There are two essential albums in English punk: Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols, available on American Warners, and The Clash, a CBS import that may well never be released here. Hard rock fans should pick up one and seek out the other. I know no one who was bowled over by The Clash first listen, and I know a lot of people who love it now; it's one of my favorite records of the decade. Give it some time.

Also recommended are Pure Mania by the Vibrators (Epic import due for domestic release on Columbia January 9), revved-up and slightly arty, showing roots in pop r&b to great advantage; In the City and This Is the Modern World by the Jam (domestic Polydor), in which a very bright, very ambitious working-class rock and roller writes relevant songs because that seems the thing to do and proves so honest and thoughtful he renders all questions of posing, well, irrelevant; and side one of The Boomtown Rats (domestic Mercury), raw, nasty, relatively unhistrionic, and not without melodic appeal. The Heartbreakers never got to me in New York, but side one of L.A.M.F., a Track import recorded after their move to London, is a perfect, catchy version of (to borrow Caroline Coon's phrase) MOR punk, in which (to borrow Greil Marcus's image) the guitarist lays down a line of fire to cover the vocalist; side two ain't so catchy. I am less impressed by The Boys (Nems import), 'Eater's The Album (The Label import), and the two Damned LPs (Stiff import), but all have virtues and supporters--as do the Stranglers, I suppose. I don't know anyone who likes either Eddie and the Hot Rods album.

A punk anthology I've been playing a lot is Streets (Beggars Banquet import); its 17 independent label cuts include no instant classics, but the overall quality, especially on side two, indicates how vital punk is as a movement right now. I find The Roxy London W.C. 2 (Jan-Apr '77) (EMI import), a live anthology, valuable primarily as documentary. Most of the great punk on New Wave (Vertigo import) is American. And three pub-to-punk compendiums deserve mention: A Bunch of Stiff Records, Hit's Greatest Stiffs, and Submarine Tracks & Fool's Gold Chiswick Chartbusters, Volume One. All have been constructed with discophiliac attention to detail and all are proof that rock and roll, of all sorts, is here to collect.

With albums, idiosyncrasies of taste tend to even out over 10 or 12 cuts; singles are more hit-or-miss. The ones I happen to love are: "Complete Control"/"City of the Dead" by the Clash (CBS); "2-4-6-8 Motorway" by the Tom Robinson Band (EMI): "Oh Bondage Up Yours"/"I Am a Cliché" by X-Ray Spex (Virgin--try to find the seven-inch version); "New Rose" by the Damned (Stiff); "Johnny Won't Get to Heaven"/"Naive" by the Killjoys (Raw); "Can't Stand By My Baby" by the Rezillos (Sensible); "Don't Dictate/'Money Talks" by Penetration (Virgin); "Right To Work" by Chelsea (Step-Forward); "Do Anything You Wanna Do" by Rods (domestic Island); and "Television Screen"/"Love Detective" by the Radiators From Space. The latter was dismissed in Sniffin' Glue as "a moronic mess"; Michael at Discophile thinks it's worse; and on their second single and album their producer, Roger Armstrong, has slowed down the Radiators' r&b clichés to accentuate their songwriting. I find the songs mediocre and everything but their mad debut disappointing. "I guess you haven't had as many fast guitars in the States as we have," Armstrong explained. Never, never—give me more.

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