The Stone Roses: War and Peace

by Spence, Simon

  13.

  Geffen

  In August 1990 the first reports surfaced in the UK media concerning the Roses’ precarious relationship with Jive/Zomba, claiming the band had ‘left their contract’ and been poached by an as yet unnamed company. In September Jive/Zomba responded by seeking to put an injunction on the band, preventing them from recording for another label. ‘They were worried we were going to walk away and we did not really resist that injunction,’ said the band’s lawyer, John Kennedy. ‘We agreed we wouldn’t release anything but we wanted to be able to record, that was the important thing.’

  The trial would not come before the High Court until March 1991. The Roses would be, effectively, in limbo for six months. The band’s entire career would hinge on the result of the court case, and even by Kennedy’s estimation it was a gamble. ‘The thing you should know about litigation is you’re fairly certain what your strategy is, you know what you’re doing, but you’re never certain about the outcome.’

  Kennedy’s case that the Roses’ recording and publishing contracts were unreasonable and unenforceable was built on a body of law called restraint of trade. There were several clauses within the Roses’ recording contract that were highly dubious. Key was the fact there was no positive obligation on Zomba’s part to release the band’s records, meaning the company could effectively sterilize the output of the group – a restraint of trade. Zomba had signed the Roses for one year, to be followed by six possible option periods that could be exercised at the whim of the company, meaning they could tie the group up for as long as thirty-five years, or even, possibly, due to certain loopholes, for ever.

  The band were now taking this very seriously. Although Geffen had made a verbal offer, they had not signed anything – after all this the band could end up still tied to Jive/Zomba. ‘We weren’t confident of winning,’ said Squire. ‘But we were determined to do or die. If we’d never been released from that contract we wouldn’t have worked for them again, so we were discussing plans to only release bootlegs, or to just tour.’

  ‘It’s not much fun falling out with your record company if somebody then tells you you’ve still got to work with them,’ said Kennedy. ‘That was one of the biggest issues. The Roses were cool, confident, and expressed detachment, but were actually fairly fazed by having to be involved in this. In a sense, of course, they’re also competitors, so they wanted to win as well. I suppose it was quite appealing that it was a Sex Pistols-type move against the establishment.’

  ‘It was bitterly sad,’ said Steven Howard at Jive/Zomba. ‘A classic case of lunatics running the asylum. They were courted by Geffen Records, who had never even seen them and who offered them an untold fortune, which was music to Gareth’s ears. Geffen was prepared to pay this huge advance way out of any proportion to what they should be getting. And there were people on our side in the UK dealing with it by saying, Oh we’ll leave it to the lawyers, the lawyers will sort it all out. And that’s not how you go about these things. It was such a mistake.’

  The criminal-damage charges that had been hanging over the Roses’ heads since April were finally heard at Wolverhampton Crown Court on 5 October. Fans outside the court wore ‘The Manchester four are innocent’ T-shirts. Paul Reid QC, defending the band, called the Roses’ actions ‘stupid’, but added, ‘They believed the release [of the ‘Sally Cinnamon’ video] to be damaging to their professional reputations, so decided to take the law into their own hands. These four young men are not merely fussy but obsessive about the quality of everything associated with their name. They want to be the best at what they do and they are never satisfied with second best. It is a genuine desire on their part that their fans should not be ripped off.’

  Judge Mott QC delivered his verdict: ‘I can understand the indignation you felt, but the way in which you went about it was immature to the point of childishness,’ he said. ‘I think a prison sentence, suspended or otherwise, might lead to notoriety for you and ultimately be to your benefit and I certainly don’t want to contribute to that.’ The Roses escaped being sent to jail and were merely fined £3,000 each. Squire summed up the band’s relief: ‘I’m just glad to stay out of the nick,’ he said.

  In a year they should have dominated, the Roses were now beginning to be left behind. In October, Primal Scream’s third album, Screamadelica, would see them cement their place as the era’s most elegant acid house rock outfit. The Charlatans’ debut, Some Friendly, made number 1 in the UK. Even James had revived, taking their Gold Mother album to number 2. The Mondays’ third album, Pills ’n’ Thrills and Bellyaches, hit number 4 in November. During this period the music press could only speculate on the Roses, as the band held a media blackout. Melody Maker suggested the Roses were being ‘crucified by their own messiah complex’ and had a ‘peculiar death wish’. Brown was rumoured to have always wanted to be in a band that became really massive and then never did anything again.

  Having only recorded two songs all year, it was a testament to the Roses’ incendiary rise to prominence that there continued to be a belief that the band would deliver – nowhere more so than in America, where other English outfits including Jesus Jones, EMF and The Charlatans were scoring with variations of the Roses’ sound. In December 1990, in the LA Times, in an article titled ‘20 bands that matter’, chief pop-music critic Robert Hilburn named his top four as: U2, Guns N’ Roses, Public Enemy and The Stone Roses. Of the Roses, he wrote:

  Some rock groups take time before they display commanding vision, but many demonstrate enough of a glimmer of greatness in their first albums to stamp them as significant forces: for example the Sex Pistols, Talking Heads, R.E.M. and U2. The Roses, who have yet to tour the US, may never make another album as good as their 1989 debut, but that collection spoke with a youthful innocence and independence that suggests the Roses are capable of leading more than merely the Manchester, England, scene.

  The Roses reconvened at the expensive Bluestone rehearsal facility – an isolated, converted farm in Pembrokeshire – on 13 January 1991 to brew up some more of their steamy funk and folk-rock magic. ‘The first two weeks was just like an expensive record player,’ said Mani. ‘We just sat smoking weed and listening to tunes at a grand a day, then we went sledging on antique silver trays. Did a bit of mountain biking. Suddenly we’ve done five weeks in the studio.’ Mani’s father had died from a heart attack two months earlier and he was in a distressed state. Reni was the only one who noticed. Yet Squire and Brown, for all their self-absorption, were not concentrating on songwriting. New songs were not flowing in the way they once had. Their partnership had run dry. The band came back from Pembrokeshire empty-handed and with heavy hearts to face the Jive/Zomba court case, which began on 4 March and would run until the 26th.

  Proceedings at the High Court of Justice were highly complex and detailed. Melody Maker reported Brown as saying that if the case went against them the band would give up music and go on the dole. While the case was in its early stages, Kennedy nailed down the deal with Geffen. His initial concern was to secure funding for the court case and his litigation team. These negotiations took place at the Halcyon Hotel in London with Geffen representatives Gary Gersh and Eddie Rosenblatt. The pair faced one late and surprise contender for the band’s hand in the form of flamboyant cape-wearing Maurice Oberstein, the managing director of PolyGram. ‘I don’t know how he found us,’ said Kennedy. ‘He came to the hotel and said, Look, this is what we will do, we will match whatever deal Geffen offer and in addition, to make it interesting for your clients, we will sign the contract on Concorde.’ Oberstein had signed The Clash to CBS in a similar cavalier fashion.

  Kennedy told the band about the offer from PolyGram and continued negotiating the deal with Geffen, who agreed to fund the court case. Rosenblatt admitted Geffen were taking a huge risk. There was no guarantee the court case would be won, so they might only end up with a substantial bill for legal costs. He also admitted that the label had not heard any new Roses material. ‘The c
ourt case could go either way and we were taking a risk,’ said Gersh. ‘It was very intense and complicated. John Kennedy negotiated masterfully, as he does.’ The Roses felt that Gersh was someone they could work with, specifically because he had previously signed Sonic Youth to Geffen. It was the first time Gersh had sat with the band together. ‘Some of them were very outgoing and loud and boisterous, and then some of them were very quiet and introverted. It was much harder to get through to Ian and John than to get through to Reni and Mani. They warmed up throughout the day and it got easier. We were literally negotiating from room to room. And Obi [Maurice Oberstein] was there too. I remember coming out of a room with Eddie and walking smack bang into Obi – and there was nothing to do but just laugh.’

  ‘It was hard, but we got to the end of the negotiation on the Sunday night,’ said Kennedy. ‘I said to the band, Look, this is really a good deal with Geffen, we need to start making some decisions. I remember being quite irritated – when I went to see them for their decision, they were watching [the film] Twelve Angry Men. It was halfway through and they said they wanted to see the film all the way to the end before we had the discussion. It’s now ten o’clock on a Sunday night, I’d been away from my family all weekend, and I wouldn’t mind going home. I was their friend, I was working on their behalf, but at the same time they wanted a Sex Pistols-type edge.’

  The film finished. Kennedy advised the band he had done what they’d asked and negotiated the deal with Geffen. If they won the court case the deal was said to be worth $20 million spread over the course of five albums, with an initial payment of $4 million. ‘Then somebody said, What about that PolyGram offer? What about going on Concorde?’ said Kennedy. ‘I said, Well, it’s fantastic to go on Concorde but you don’t want to choose your record company because you’re going to get a trip on Concorde. They said, No, no – you don’t get it. We get on Concorde and when we’re halfway across the Atlantic we say we’ve changed our mind. I drew the line there.’

  Instead the Roses came up with the idea they wanted to sign to Geffen on a London double-decker bus. Rosenblatt was at the end of his tether. He’d worked with some of the biggest recording artists in the world, spent a weekend doing all he could, and now wanted to go home. ‘It was just too much for him,’ said Kennedy. ‘I said, The band are quite capable of saying no. So the contract was signed on the bus.’

  Kennedy now had to inform the High Court of the development with Geffen – and was warned by his own QC he could have overstepped the mark. If the judge agreed that it was a breach of the injunction, Kennedy would be in contempt of court and facing jail. Thankfully, Zomba’s lawyers looked over the documents and agreed Kennedy had stayed on the right side of the law.

  The band tended to keep away from court, except Brown, who was there most days but getting restless. ‘At least I’m beginning to understand their double-speak,’ he said. It was more entertaining when there were witnesses in court, and all the Roses travelled down from Manchester to hear the testimony of Geoff Howard, their lawyer at the time of signing to Jive/Zomba. Dougie James was also there that day. Zomba had approached him for dirt. James knew that Howard had been up before the Law Society, and he asked Zomba’s lawyer to ask Howard if he was a man of integrity. ‘He had to say no,’ said James.

  Howard was not the only man to have his integrity questioned on the stand. The Roses’ QC Barbara Dohman described Evans as ‘inexperienced in the music business’ and it was revealed he had paid the band an initial wage of £70 per week, rising to £200, before tax. Peter Prescott QC, representing Zomba, attacked the length of Evans’s ten-year management contract, and claimed the Roses’ manager never supplied the band with detailed accounts of the finances of his company, Starscreen Management. That Gareth Evans was not his real name was also made public. It was also stated that Jive/Zomba via Silvertone had approached Evans over the summer with possible amendments to the original contracts and that he’d never discussed these amendments with the band.

  Jive/Zomba requested the unfair elements in the contracts be severed, leaving those parts of the contract which were fair intact. Zomba boss Clive Calder had doubts going into the case, but as the proceedings went on, some of the testimonies seemed to be in his favour. ‘We started to feel more confident that we had a chance of winning,’ said Michael Tedesco, who was in daily contact with Calder. Roddy McKenna, the A&R man who had originally signed the band to Jive/Zomba, said Evans tried to dissuade him from testifying in court. McKenna also asked the Roses if they had received their £40,000 Christmas bonus from Jive/Zomba. The band told him Evans had given them £500 each.

  Evans seemed to register that the details revealed in court would permanently damage his relationship with the band, and was now preparing to be sacked. ‘The breakdown in the band’s relationship with Gareth started then,’ said Kennedy. ‘There had been more tension than I knew between them and it came to a head during the case.’ For Kennedy, the court case was an all-or-nothing gamble. ‘If I lost I was going to be considered very damaged goods. A good friend of mine was regularly getting messages from executives at Zomba, making clear they thought I’d mucked up really, really badly.’

  The judge retired to consider his verdict. ‘You don’t know when that decision is going to come,’ said Kennedy. ‘Is it going to come in a week? A month? Six months? You have no control. So you’re just getting on with life.’ Three weeks later Kennedy spent the weekend in Ireland at his father’s funeral. ‘I’d come back on the Sunday evening to a message saying, Judgement tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I froze.’ The judgement was delivered on 20 May. ‘During the first twenty minutes reading his verdict, the judge gives all the signals we’ve lost. It’s really cliffhanger stuff. Then he suddenly turns the corner. Things just started getting better and better and better.’

  The Roses were released from their recording and publishing contracts with Jive/Zomba. Judge Humphries found both contracts legally unenforceable, calling them ‘oppressive’, ‘unfair’ and ‘entirely one-sided’. ‘Suffice to say in almost every clause it is the name of Zomba which is being provided for,’ he said. Jive/Zomba immediately appealed the decision, but it would not amount to anything more than a gesture.

  Squire hailed this court victory as perhaps the Roses’ most significant contribution to music. The fact the band had taken on the music industry, and won, established new moral parameters in the way companies would make deals with bands. ‘It’s probably a greater contribution to popular music than anything we’ve ever recorded,’ he said. Brown saw it as justice done: ‘The week after, the director of every single record company was saying what a disgrace the result was. We were attacking their whole industry.’

  For Evans, the court triumph was a pyrrhic victory. No representatives of Geffen had attended the proceedings, so all they heard was good news. A new Roses single was planned for release on Geffen as soon as possible, a new album scheduled for mid-autumn 1991, and the press was told to expect a big show in England during the summer. ‘A massive surprise on the scale of Spike Island,’ said Evans, who now also hoped to finally launch the band in America. ‘We were planning on doing big shows,’ said the band’s American manager, Greg Lewerke. ‘We were going to do one at Madison Square Gardens in New York, one at the LA Forum and one in San Francisco. Start off big, Gareth would say – they’ve got to be big, what’s the biggest thing they can do? Some things came out in court that portrayed Gareth in a bad light, but he always seemed the same. He was maybe a little more nervous and shifty than usual, but he was always shifty and nervous.’

  Evans admitted to now feeling unstable, having to deal with ‘the might of the American music industry in one ear’ and ‘having to listen to the band planning my demise in the other’. ‘The case had highlighted how badly we’d been managed because we’d been allowed to sign the original contract,’ said Squire. Evans claimed the band broke into his farmhouse and threatened him, demanding monies they felt he owed them. Reni had wanted rid of him for years,
and now Squire wanted Evans sacked, but the band were no longer a close-knit unit and making decisions about anything would take time. After all, the band had always known what Evans was like. But the idea of he and Cummins collecting their 33.3 per cent share of the massive Geffen deal was unpalatable. Brown, despite everything, retained a soft spot for Evans. There was talk, initially, of Matthew Cummins being axed and Evans being put on a more modest 20 per cent.

  Evans had, by plan or blunder, contributed to the band being in the position where they had signed the most lucrative deal in recording history. The monies being quibbled over paled in comparison to what the band would now share. Evans had toiled on behalf of the Roses for four years, and felt he had done the best he could for them. Behind the hyperbole, he also saw them as friends – all in it together – and was shocked and hurt by these developments. He was excited about the band finally breaking America, and wanted to share in that ultimate triumph.

  Instead, Evans was now busy collecting legal papers and testimonies to protect himself and his business partner Cummins and their remarkable 33.3 per cent share of the Roses’ gross profits. They employed their own lawyer. A popular rumour was that the band wanted to sack Evans because he had stolen £1 million from them, with the intention of buying a Lear Jet, and it was only the band intercepting him at Manchester Airport that had prevented him from doing so. A good story, but untrue. Geffen, meanwhile, were keen to cement their plans for the group but the contact number they had for the band was Evans’s farmhouse, where his disabled son, Mark, would often answer the phone. Eddie Rosenblatt was not comfortable speaking to a child with Down’s Syndrome about his multimillion-dollar investment.

  The Roses retained the services of John Kennedy, and he acted as the key adviser to the band. ‘It was a proper debate as to what the next steps were,’ he said. ‘It was complicated. Different people had different views of Gareth.’ For Greg Lewerke the situation was a nightmare. He had played a vital role in bringing the Roses and Geffen together, but his deal was with Evans. If the band were now going to cut Evans and Cummins out of the Geffen deal, his share would also go up in smoke. Although Lewerke never saw any money, above his expenses, Evans had used Lewerke’s involvement as the reason why he had needed to take so much money from the band. ‘Gareth was up to no good at the end,’ Lewerke said. ‘He didn’t know what was right or wrong and I think he just took too much – and they caught him.’ However, as he went on to say, ‘The Roses shot themselves in the foot by being a little too clever … The money from Geffen destroyed them. It was very depressing.’ He said the band should have retained Evans, and simply put him on a ‘tighter leash’. ‘There’s all this money here, guys, we’ve all worked so hard to get to this point. Can’t we just follow it through? What are you getting rid of the guy for? Just so you can make more money?’