Careening between reggae, rock, rhythm and blues, ska, rockabilly, punk and even jazz, "London Calling" -- and the three-disc set that followed, "Sandinista," even more so -- was the work of a band in love with musical possibilities, not units sold. Later, during their historic 15-day run at Bonds in Times Square in 1980, the band tried (unsuccessfully) to introduce their fans to the new sound, a then-local phenomenon called rap, by having Grandmaster Flash open some of the shows.

"We weren't parochial, we weren't narrow-minded, we weren't little Englanders," Strummer said in "Westway to the World," the recent documentary on the Clash. "At least we had the suss to embrace what we were presented with, which was the world in all its weird varieties."

There was a certain Cold War ethos to the Clash which they happily fed off, and were it not for the excellence of their music, it might have made them a dated artifact, the musical equivalent of a brick from the Berlin Wall or Country Joe McDonald spelling F-U-C-K at Woodstock. But the primary subjects of Strummer's songs with the Clash -- injustice, poverty, and war -- didn't disappear when the band broke up (after "Cut the Crap" in 1986) or the Wall came down.

But putting aside the activism of artists like U2's Bono and REM's Michael Stipe, political dissent is today virtually nonexistent anywhere near mainstream rock. Rage Against the Machine lacked the musical sophistication, subtlety or wit to make a difference while bludgeoning their fans with left-wing propaganda. The Manic Street Preachers don't have the versatility or chops to draw much attention to their message. Bragg is too bloody British -- and too busy resuscitating the legend of another musical revolutionary, Woody Guthrie -- to reach a big audience. Alleged renegades like alt-country's Steve Earle, whose recent album "Jerusalem" offers a few relatively tame vignettes about the Middle East and John Walker Lindh, represent the extent of protest music on the rock scene.

And even the Strummer that emerged from a decade of musical limbo was a kinder, gentler version of the earlier battle-scarred campaigner; Strummer lite, if you will. On the two records made with his new group, the Mescaleros -- "Rock Art and the X-Ray Style" and "Global a Go-Go" -- Strummer was more concerned with promoting international brotherhood through music than with tearing down the status quo. The same sense of experimentation was there, only this time combining techno/dance beats with his more traditional interest in world music and the old standbys: rockabilly, reggae and rock 'n' roll.

Both records met with relatively positive reviews, though the musical blend was hardly revolutionary. Even if the firebrand Strummer had mellowed, it was good to have him back in any form whatever. Then of course there was the Jaguar ad.

On a recent Sunday, flipping between National Football League games, the familiar opening chords of the title cut from "London Calling" -- is there a stronger album opener in all of music? -- reverberated through living rooms across America. A spit-take later came an ad for Jaguar motorcars, filmed on a London street, announcing to the world that the British carmaker was selling its high-end autos here in the States to those sophisticated enough to recognize the brilliance of its automotive tradition. Once, those chords alluded to the decline of Western civilization and the coming apocalypse; now they were hawking an advanced suspension system and a hushed, leather interior.

There's nothing wrong with an artist selling his work to make a living; in an age when the radio conglomerate Clear Channel Communications -- in de facto collusion with the record executives and marketers -- basically determines what gets played on the radio, it's becoming more common for artists to use the TV commercial as a way to get exposure. But even though the Clash had, years earlier, sold Jones' hit "Train in Vain" to Levi's for a denim jeans promotion, there was still something fundamentally disturbing about "London Calling" appearing in an ad. On the Mescaleros' Web site, Strummer defended the band's decision in a Q&A:

"Q: 'London Calling' has been recently used to advertise Jaguar cars in the U.S.

"Strummer: Yeah, I agreed to that. We get hundreds of requests for that and turn 'em all down. But I just thought Jaguar ... yeah. If you're in a group and you make it together, then everyone deserves something. Especially 20-odd years after the fact. It just seems churlish for a writer to refuse to have their music used on an advert and so I figured out, only advertise the things you think are cool. That's why we dissed Coors and Miller. We've turned down loads of money. Millions over the years. But sometimes you have to earn a bit, so everybody gets some.

"Q: There's no feeling of compromise, doing this? "Strummer: Well, putting your music to an advert is a compromise. But a good advert with cool music can turn on a lot of people. I know that when I'm watching TV and you get a good ad, it's an up.

"Q: We were getting e-mails saying it was a dubious thing to be doing.

"Strummer: Yeah, well you'll always get that. They should realize that we didn't sell loads of records back then."

While Strummer's reasoning was perfectly sound, there's little doubt that the Strummer of 1977 would have blanched at such rationalizations and probably skewered them in song. Now it just points to the need for a new torch bearer, another young, smart idealist creative enough to revitalize rock 'n' roll and use it as a force for change. Someone's going have to shake the music industry out of its doldrums, and one place to start is to question the very paradigm on which it is based. As long as the profit motive fuels the "industry" -- and again, we're not just talking about the suits -- there may never be another band that matters.

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