When the Clash released Sandinista! in time for Christmas in 1980, it was met with mixed reactions for its sprawl (three records, seen as indulgent), its musical range (the non-punk tracks, seen as betrayal) and its price (seen as turning their backs on punk’s working class audience). The album has aged well, unfolding over the years, whereas today, I feel like I know London Calling. In a time when the concept of the album is called into question by downloading, it seems appropriate to put out The Sandinista Project, a tribute to an album that was conceived as a whole.

Ironically, the imperfect nature of Sandinista! makes adapting it possible. It’s hard to imagine covers of songs from The Clash that would be anything but weak and pointless, but on Sandinista! the Clash dabbled in pop, reggae, funk and folk, working in less signature forms that left room for interpreters to put their fingerprints on the songs. While much of the album takes on an Americana tinge, likely because of shared political leanings, few artists opted to do anything radical with the songs. No one seems interested in investigating the album, the Clash, or the band’s fascination with American music at the time they recorded it. As a result, The Sandinista Project has a bit of a so-what vibe.

Fortunately, there are a lot of good tracks by good people, so as an album of songs, The Sandinista Project is often a lot of fun. I’ll return to the opening tracks—Joe Grushecky and the Houserockers’ “The Magnificent Seven,” Katrina and the Waves’ Katrina Leskanich’s “Hitsville U.K.” and Jon Langford and Sally Timms’ country “Junco Partner.” Matthew Ryan’s “Someone Got Murdered” is haunting, and the Smithereens made “Up in Heaven (Not Only Here)” as Beatles-y as their recent album covering Meet the Beatles. Willie Nile’s “Police on My Back” is urgent and fun, but when I want to hear the song—as with most of Sandinista!—I’ll go back to the original.