niversally acclaimed though it may be, London Calling isn't my favorite Clash album. For one thing, Rolling Stone's "album of the 80s" is probably a little too long, double or not, and several of its tracks feature one of rock's most ill-advised production flourishes--sax accompaniment. I'm thinking of "The Right Profile" in particular, which the saxophone singlehandedly downgrades to an AOR-themed debacle. The manner in which London Calling employed the sax wasn't its defining characteristic by any means, yet the instrument's few appearances tellingly illustrate how it should not be used in a rock context. The obnoxiously ostentatious melodies integrated into LC and such other 80s classics as "Who Can It Be Now" and "Sussudio" never did anything more for the tunes than permanently attach them to an era of superfluous musical glitz and excess.


Sweep the Leg Johnny have found a new use for the sax in rock, one that eschews lite arena-rock bombast in favor of impassioned performance, contrapuntal interaction with the guitars, and the occasional free-jazz squallfest. Their protean sound lifts them above the legions of second-rate math rockers who think it's enough simply to noodle around with shifting time signatures and obscure chords. Sweep uses both musical devices, but the songs never feel aimless, even at such daunting lengths as 15+ minutes. Holding the listener's attention is a major challenge for music in general and math rock in particular, but Sweep pulls it off significantly more often than not.


"Sometimes My Balls Feel Like Tits" opens with a deceptively mellifluous sax riff before the rest of the band erupts into a rock maelstrom only seconds later. Over the following 14:16, the listener is treated to a rousing melodic duel between sax and lead guitar against a rhythmic bedrock of staccato bass, drums and the newly added second guitar. Steve Sostak's alternately shouted and sung vocals occasionally punctuate the instrumental interplay, and they act as a outposts of accessibility within the tune's lengthy instrumental sturm und drang. The manic rush presses onward but never ceases to exhilarate until around 8 minutes in, when the tempo begins to abate, followed by the volume. Eventually the drums and bass drop out completely, and we're left with dual arpeggiating guitars gently supporting a relaxed sax melody. A heavy, lockstep buildup ensues as the band briefly recapitulates its former intensity and ultimately brings the coda.


The first track encapsulates most of the territory Sweep covers as a band, and the rest of the album's tracks offer either amped-up jazzy rage, understated introspection, or a seamless integration of both. If you can understand and enjoy what they're trying to do, and I certainly do, you'll find Going Down Swingin' alternately blistering and touching. Few bands can manage to (or are able to) incorporate both elements into their oeuvre; Sweep have to be one of the only ones that can pull off such effective highs and lows in a single song.


The one complaint I could think of to level at this record is the puzzling inclusion of two previously released tracks from the band's last two studio albums. Although "Rest Stop" (off Tomorrow We Will Run Faster) and "Blizzard of 1999" (off Sto Cazzo!) were both rerecorded for the new record, neither track has been reworked enough to warrant the redundancy, especially on another studio album. I docked about a point for this infraction, the sole blemish on an otherwise powerful and inspired release.