Mick Jones: Stayin' In Tune - The Unauthorised Biography

by Mick O'Shea

  Caroline never consciously strayed beyond her remit as the 'nonmanager manager of The Clash', as she jokingly referred to her role on occasion, but her authoritarian, no-nonsense approach inevitably began to grate. Some have pointed to Caroline's relationship with Paul adding a 'John and Yoko frisson' as the reason for her expulsion, while Johnny Green says Joe and Mick either didn't think she was up to the task, or that she was 'on the make'.8

  Appointing the girlfriend of one of the group as manager was perhaps a tad too Spinal Tap-esque, but suggesting Caroline was lining her own pockets at The Clash's expense is ludicrous as she didn't even seek recompense for the £3,000 she'd laid out while arranging the US tour. Indeed, the only accusation The Clash could possibly throw in Caroline's direction was that she perhaps took her eye off the ball to enter discussions about her being appointed creative consultant for Lou Adler's punk-themed film All Washed Up* which was then at the pre-production stage.

  * * *

  * The album would peak at No. 128 (BACK)

  * The Cost Of Living EP was released on 11 May 1979. (BACK)

  * By the of its release in 1981, the film had been re-titled Ladies And Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains. (BACK)

  – CHAPTER NINE –

  DON'T TOUCH THAT DIAL

  'By the third album we were still learning, still developing and we developed our musical style. There was a point where punk was getting narrower and narrower in terms of what it could achieve and where it could go. It was like painting itself into a corner and we wanted to do anything and everything. We thought you could make any kind of music.'

  – Mick Jones

  THE LONG-SINCE DEMOLISHED Vanilla Studios* in Pimlico more than lived up to its lacklustre name, but Johnny Green says he knew instantly the moment he walked up the stairwell and into the cramped low-ceilinged, windowless womb that he'd found The Clash somewhere they could call home. The familiarity stemmed from 36 Causton Street providing floor space for cars and guitars in a near-identical situation as the British Rail yards at Camden Lock, which housed Harry's Garage and Rehearsal Rehearsals. The rectangular room also had a six-inch platform running down one wall and across the far end that could serve as a stage. The subtle difference between Rehearsals and Vanilla being that the latter was owned by a shady Iranian clique sporting Arthur Daley-esque camel coats that had a posse of minders on call should anyone start asking uncomfortable questions about the garage's car-spraying operation.

  Johnny had two questions for the Iranians: was the studio available for extended lease; and could The Clash have the place solely for their own use? The Iranians had just the one: could The Clash pay up front?

  Johnny may have been given the mandate of finding the group a new home, but that didn't mean to say CBS would okay the cost without consultation, and the people he needed to speak with at Soho Square suddenly became unavailable whenever money was mentioned. Fortunately for The Clash, however, their accountant Peter 'Quister the Twister' Quinnell understood the urgency of getting his clients back into the studio and OK'd the cheque. While the money worked its silent magic, Johnny and Baker set about ferrying the group's gear over to its new home and setting it up on the raised area as close as possible to how they liked to work – with Joe, Mick, and Paul all facing Topper.

  Having procured a table, a few chairs, and the all-important teamaking utensils, Johnny and Baker set the amps to stand-by, plugged in the kettle, and awaited the group's arrival. Johnny knew from experience that Vanilla was custom-made for The Clash. Not only did it resemble the archetypal gang hideaway from an Ealing crime caper, it was also off the beaten track which would hopefully deter friends and record company personnel from dropping by. Other sundry benefits that the new locale offered were the studio being situated within walking distance of a pub [The White Swan], and a sandwich bar – both of which were to become regular haunts.

  'Vanilla was very, very secluded and not many people came to see us because it wasn't easy to find the place,' Mick explained. 'It was in the back of a garage and you wouldn't know there was anything there so we were cut off from everyone. You had to come by prior appointment.'1

  While close friends such as Robin Crocker, Barry 'Scratchy' Myers, and Rude Boy actor Terry McQuade, did indeed come by prior appointment, instead of being ushered into studio, more often than not they would be taken over the road to the Causton Street Children's Playground for a game of 'Crombies for goalposts' football. Judging from Johnny's recollections, the four members of The Clash played football pretty much the same way they did their respective instruments: Topper and Mick possessing the artistic flair, Joe as being a 'head-down-and-charge-for-goal' kinda guy, while Paul was an out-and-out clogger.

  These not-so-genteel kick-abouts weren't simply designated exercise breaks to give all concerned an hour in the open air before going back inside to nail another song, but rather no quarter contests played out on an equally unforgiving asphalt pitch that could have resulted in one of the group being carted off to hospital. The news that Joe or Mick had an arm or ankle in plaster from playing footie might have shocked those music journos who were monitoring the new album's progress, but the same disclosure would have been met with bemused resignation over in Soho Square as Muff Winwood and the other CBS suits who'd visited Vanilla of late had also been press-ganged into playing and had the bumps and bruises to prove it.

  Johnny Green remembers The Clash's work ethic at Vanilla as 'extremely disciplined', and with their having finally made the conscious decision to move away from punk's rigid 4/4 pulse beat they could play around with the rocking rhythms that had stirred them in their youth. During the recording of Give 'Em Enough Rope Sandy Pearlman had proclaimed Topper a 'human drum machine' owing to his unerring ability to play any style or mode without dropping a beat, and Topper's dexterity, coupled with Mick's unerring knack for finding a melody, allowed them to throw some Clash chords at any musical genre that took their fancy.

  Coming up with new material for Give 'Em Enough Rope had proved taxing, but having shaken off the shackles of their self-imposed restraints, the songs were coming thick and fast. 'I don't think the first American tour was the inspiration for "London Calling", Mick revealed. 'A few of the songs on the second album had talked about that, [but] I think by this time the lyrics were actually the spur to start doing different kinds of music.'3

  Johnny and Baker could, of course, always be counted on to serve as an in-house sounding board, but The Clash knew the tried and tested means of gauging any new song's worth was in front of a live audience. They were already scheduled to headline the second of two Rock Against Racism orchestrated Southall Defence Fund benefit shows over consecutive evenings at the Rainbow Theatre in Finsbury Park on 13/14 July, but it was decided to book a couple of low-key shows at the Notre Dame Hall in Leicester Place the week prior to their Rainbow date.

  The Clash hadn't graced a British stage since the beginning of January, but both shows sold out within hours of word hitting the street. At the opening show, rather than charge straight in with the new stuff, The Clash elected to get the crowd rocking with a trio of familiar tunes 'Clash City Rockers', '(White Man) In Hammersmith Palais', and 'Safe European Home', before tentatively sliding into the new material.

  With their appetites whetted for playing live again, The Clash were suddenly keen to play other one-off dates – regardless of the logistics involved. There was talk of their flying out to Cuba for a one-off show, but the idea quickly floundered over safety issues.

  Another occasion where they were forced to revise their thinking came following an invitation from the Undertones to headline a festival in their native Derry. Though it wasn't made public at the time, Joe had received a death threat (via the NME) from the Red Hand Commandos, a splinter group from the Protestant Ulster Defence Association (UDA), over his having sported a T-shirt declaring support for the ongoing H-Block hunger strikes at the Harlesden Roxy show the previous October.

  Revised thinking would be the order of
the day when it came to who might be called upon to produce the new album. Give 'Em Enough Rope had received a harsh reception at the hands of the British music media, but it was still generally assumed within The Clash camp that Sandy Pearlman would be recalled to duty. Indeed, the proposal got as far as the discussion stage before Pearlman took himself out of the equation following the death of his father.

  In accordance with their new wide-ranging repertoire The Clash began mooting producers they believed were capable of appreciating, harnessing, and transferring the melody-fused magic onto vinyl. CBS would have already had a list of producers capable of delivering such a remit at their disposal, so given the underwhelming in-house response to Guy's production work on the group's Polydor demos back in November 1976, hearing that Joe was out trawling the darkest recesses of Soho in search of the mercurial maverick would have surely had everyone at Soho Square reaching for the smelling salts.

  Muff Winwood was particularly aghast at the news and put forward a compromise whereby The Clash could have Guy, so long as CBS could nominate a third party who was capable of grabbing the tiller should Guy stray off course. The 'third party' they called upon was Bill Price, whom the group were already familiar with from their working together on the Cost Of Living sessions back in January.

  Bill's appointment didn't get everyone's vote, however, as Joe was keen to record the new album on a couple of Teac machines at Vanilla so as to reduce studio costs, which in turn would keep the album's retail price at a minimum. On this occasion, however, he was outvoted and The Clash block-booked Wessex's Studio One for a calendar month.

  After several months of seemingly aimless meandering in the wake of Bernard's dismissal, The Clash appeared to have their career firmly back on track. They'd written enough new material for two albums and Epic were making positive noises about getting the group back to America at the earliest opportunity to promote the US friendly version of The Clash.

  Another unexpected boon came with their being approached with a last-minute, cash-in-hand support slot at the Ruisrock Festival in Turku, Finland; the £7,500 fee going a long way to easing any immediate personal financial worries they may have had.

  ♪♪♪

  With The Clash having been booked to appear at the Tribal Stomp II Festival in Monterey, California, on 8 September, it made sense to follow the US jaunt on from there. Organising a US tour, of course, was infinitely more complex than arranging a couple of low-key dates in Leicester Square. Realising they needed professional expertise, the group began pondering their options. Joe had apparently been plucking up the courage to throw Bernard's hat back into the ring, while Mick was being courted by Andrew King and Pete Jenner of Blackhill Enterprises. Blackhill got the vote; the deciding factor being Blackhill had Ian Dury and the Blockheads on its roster.

  Blackhill's initial introduction to The Clash had come via their resident PR guru Kosmo Vinyl (a.k.a Mark Dunk) who'd served his public relations apprenticeship with the legendary Keith Altham, before taking a job with the newly incorporated Stiff Records in 1976; serving as MC on the first month-long Stiff package tour featuring Elvis Costello and the Attractions, and Ian Dury's Blockheads before gravitating towards Blackhill so that he might concentrate his notinconsiderable energies in promoting Dury.

  Mick had first encountered Kosmo during the spring of 1977, whilst the latter was running a record stall on Portobello Market. Having spotted a copy of the 'Remote Control' single amongst his wares, Mick had asked Kosmo to remove it from sale as he 'weren't into it'. The rest of the Clash readily welcomed Kosmo with open arms, but others within the group's inner-sanctum weren't quite so receptive. Despite the barely concealed antipathy, with Blackhill taking over the managerial reigns Kosmo quickly became a semi-permanent fixture in the Clash camp and would come to take on PR duties similar to those he'd performed for the Blockheads.

  The Clash had opted for Guy Stevens because they believed he still possessed the 'X' factor; that indefinable talent for recognising a hit record the moment he first heard the song on a tape machine. Much to everyone's amusement, however, Guy didn't actually own a tape machine and Johnny Green was charged with remedying the situation.

  Guy's unorthodox approach to producing has become part of the London Calling legend, and the first hint that he had scant regard for normal recording procedures came with his insisting 'Brand New Cadillac' was a wrap after the first take – regardless of it speeding up towards the end. Further mad-cap behaviour came with his wrestling Bill Price to the floor over a fader, pouring a bottle of wine into the studio's Bösendorfer Grand piano to improve the sound, having the cab driver charged with delivering him to the studio on time sit in on the sessions with his meter running; lying prostrate in front of a visiting Maurice Oberstein's Rolls Royce and refusing to get up until Obie had declared the album to be 'magnificent'.

  Under normal circumstances any one of the erratic episodes would be deemed a dismissible offence, but as The Clash knew, of course, Mr. Stevens was no ordinary Guy.

  Diversifying into different musical genres had worked well enough back at Vanilla, but it soon became obvious to one and all that some of the new songs would require a broader format than guitar, bass, and drums. With The Clash signed to Blackhill, it was easy enough for Kosmo to call in Blockheads' organ player, Mickey Gallagher, while his previous good standing with Jake Riviera and Dave Robinson over at Stiff Records allowed him to call upon Graham Parker and the Rumour's brass section – credited as 'the Irish horns' on the album – to further flesh out the sound.

  Bringing in the extra help, however, meant The Clash would overrun their allotted time at Wessex.

  Working to their usual six-week turnaround mandate, CBS had been aiming for a mid-October release date. In order to have the album in the shops by that date, the label needed the finished album in the can by the end of August at the latest, but The Clash were on a roll and had little interest in keeping to mandates.

  In keeping with Joe's earlier proclamation to the Melody Maker that 'there will be no six-quid Clash LP ever!' the group first of all got CBS to agree to release the album at £5 (the lowest UK price category for a single album at that time), and then inveigled the label into including a free two-track seven-inch single, which was subsequently augmented to a four-track twelve-inch EP.

  The Clash hadn't finished with their wheedling, however, and with CBS forced to concede that a 33rpm twelve-inch cost no more to manufacture than a 45rpm four-track twelve-inch EP, the company quickly realised it had been hoodwinked into giving The Clash what they'd wanted all along – a double album retailing for the same price as a single. The Clash may have scored a value-for-money victory for the fans, but the sting in the tail came with CBS insisting the proposed double album would count only as a single album so far as the group's contract was concerned.

  With the Ruisrock readies having long-since been used up, The Clash were forced to take the begging bowl round to Soho Square in order to get the eighteen songs as near perfect as possible before heading for the airport. That they didn't leave Wessex until two hours before departure time suggests it was a very close run thing.

  With Bill Price left to get on with mixing the tracks slated for London Calling, The Clash flew out to California for the Tribal Stomp II Festival, which would serve as a warm-up show of sorts for the impending twenty-three-date 'Take The Fifth Tour'. The tour was by far The Clash's biggest undertaking, yet despite the ever-present lack of funds, as far as they were concerned a bigger tour meant a bigger entourage and aside from Kosmo, Johnny Green, Baker, and the rest of their tried and trusted crew, each member also insisted on bringing along a travelling companion to lighten the mood. Joe, Paul, and Topper naturally opted for their girlfriends (Gabby, Debbie, and Dee respectively), while Mick – having recently split from Viv Albertine – invited his LA-based pal Rory Johnston along to serve as his personal tour manager.

  Johnston was hardly what one could call a novice in the tour management department as he'd cut
his teeth babysitting the Sex Pistols on their January '78 US tour, but the rest of the group saw his inclusion as yet another show of Mick's diva-esque behaviour – especially as he hadn't thought to discuss it beforehand. There was, however, little danger of Johnson being allowed to exceed whatever authority Mick might give him as Epic had already installed their guy, Mark Wissing, to serve as their on-the-road liaison, and Andrew King and Pete Jenner were also coming along to ensure the tour proceeded as smoothly as possible.

  The NME's in-house cartoonist Ray Lowry, who'd befriended The Clash after seeing them at the Electric Circus in Manchester on the Anarchy Tour, was invited along to provide the paper with a pictorial narrative of the tour, while his fellow NME staffer Pennie Smith would be joining up with the tour to capture the mood through her lens. CBS were already baulking at the escalating costs, and for a while it looked as though Ray would have to pay his own way before a revision of the budget freed up enough cash to allow his inclusion.