Sandinista!

Sandinista! is what happens when a band is brave enough to fail — and then turns that failure inside out. At 36 tracks it's messy, brilliant, gorgeous, infuriating, necessary, and one would expect nothing less (and God help us, nothing more) from "the only band that matters." Dipping their fingers in every musical pie from gospel ("The Sound of Sinners") to disco ("Lightning Strikes"), Europop ("Hitsville U.K.") to Dadaist noise collage ("Silicone On Sapphire"), the Clash refused to edit themselves, named the album in tribute to Nicaraguan insurgents, and thumbed their noses at the expectations of fans and critics alike. The conventional wisdom is that there's a solid single album inside Sandinista!, just waiting to be let out. Don't believe it. There are some real missteps, but every last track is at the very least interesting: lyrically, musically, or just in terms of the sonic furniture. Trying to cherry-pick "the good ones" runs contrary to the messy, democratic spirit of the whole project. And besides, one person's necessity is another's throwaway is another's guilty pleasure. Just let go of all expectations, embrace the chaos, and actually listen.