Mick Jones doesn't really need to be making records in 2008. He could probably live the rest of his life off the radio residuals from "Should I Stay or Should I Go" alone, he already made the indie kids dance over 20 years ago with Big Audio Dynamite, and his suitably gritty production work on the Libertines' two albums should've satisfied any lingering, late-career urges to score cred points with the skinny-jeaned set. So it's encouraging to see the enthusiasm with which he's hurtled himself into his latest project, Carbon/Silicon, a prolific collaboration with Generation X's Tony James that's rooted in DIY principles both traditional (booking weekly residences at London pubs) and modern (releasing a steady stream of albums and EPs through free downloads on their website). With the two principals evenly sharing the songwriting and vocal duties, Carbon/Silicon resemble a sort of pared-down Travelling Wilburys for the class-of-77 set: A good-natured get-together of old mates who seem happy to play purely for the pleasure of one another's company.
Which isn't to suggest the two are eager to shut out the world around them. Their chosen Carbon/Silicon moniker can be interpreted as a response to a world overrun with pollution and plastic, and The Last Post-- comprised mostly of re-recordings from the band's web-only releases-- touches on all the Big Issues (the Iraq war, terrorism, materialism) with news-ticker efficiency and expediency. But the overall attitude of the album is not one of anger so much as shrugged-shoulder bemusement, perhaps resulting from the fact that the modern world looks no more sane or dignified than the garbage-strewn London streets that spawned Jones and James' former bands. You can hear their sardonic detachment simmering underneath the up-with-people exuberance of opener "The News", in which Jones fires off a laundry list of utopian ideals-- "people started caring about what they eat/ and people started smiling at everyone they meet"-- while the song's ringing, repetitive guitar riff and sprightly rhythm coat the lyrics in a synthetic sheen that underscores their inherent, pipe-dream fallacy.
But this surface simplicity exposes both Carbon/Silicon's charms and their limitations. The band may have evolved from a two-man team to a full four-piece band, but the recordings still possess a demo-like quality-- not in the raw, primal sense, but rather what sounds like home-computer-generated blueprints begging for embellishments that never come. The grinding riffs and metronomic drum tracks pretty much map out entire song structures within the first 10 seconds, with verses and choruses often following the same melody line (see: the ersatz Oasis of "Tell it Like It Is"). The result is a sometimes awkward disconnect between intent and execution: with its descending central riff, agit-folk sloganeering ("what they're trying to sell us is really just a con") and immediate, anthemic chorus, you can't help but wonder how exciting centerpiece track "War on Culture" would've sounded had Jones or James recorded it 30 years ago; instead, it exists today as an amiable mid-tempo chugger that cruises along for six minutes without ever really accruing any of the fury seeping out of the lyric sheet.
So with the parameters so rigidly defined, success boils down to the spirit of the performances: James' "Magic Suitcase" recasts its disarming images of airport security and concealed bombs into an enchanting bit of Robyn Hitchcockian psych-pop whimsy, while the fetching "National Anthem" sublimates T. Rex's "Bang a Gong" groove into a sly, soul strut. But within The Last Post's stately surroundings, it follows that the most invigorating song is also its silliest: a "Clash City Rockers" redux called "What the Fuck". Jones may be stretching things a touch when he links the title's punk-perfect sentiment with the existential angst of Fyodor Dostoevsky, but the song marks the rare moment where Carbon/Silicon sound like a product of "Garageland" rather than GarageBand.
