The Stone Roses: War and Peace

by Spence, Simon

  Goldstein was not involved in the video shoot, as the Roses had decided against making him their permanent manager. ‘I wanted to stay with them,’ he said. ‘My understanding is that John had said if we want to make it in America we have to pay an American manager, and Ian just said, I’m not going to pay the gross dollar figures – so they had a falling out.’

  Second Coming performed well in America, reaching number 47 on the Billboard charts, but Rolling Stone awarded it only two of a possible five stars, dismissing it as ‘tuneless retro-psychedelic grooves bloated to six-plus minutes in length’. In the LA Times, on 5 February, long-time fan Robert Hilburn countered, ‘The critical furore is reminiscent of the stir caused in the early 1970s by the Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main St., another work that required repeated listening before the sprawl turned from chaotic to absorbing. Look for Second Coming to eventually stand as one of the most important albums of 1995.’

  ‘The reason why no British band has taken the US in the last ten years is that none of them have been any good,’ Brown, now thirty-one, told Entertainment Weekly. ‘America’s there for us if we want it. It’s ours.’ The band’s most controversial interview was with Robert Hilburn, at the LA Times. ‘I made the mistake of using cocaine for a while, thinking that it would make me more productive but it made me unsure, more paranoid,’ Squire, now thirty-two, told Hilburn. ‘One thing it gives you is endurance. A lot of what I do comes from spending time on a guitar, just getting locked into a private world and turning things around, and something will grow from that.’

  This quote was duly reported back in the UK, where starved of any real Roses news it was blown out of all proportion. ‘People were asking us why it took so long to come up with the second album,’ Squire said. ‘We’d done other interviews and the same excuses about the court cases and having children were getting recycled. I thought the guy deserved something more.’

  Aside from Hilburn, the Roses had treated the US media in the same way they dealt with the UK media, with a mixture of disdain and disinterest. There had been a particularly awkward interview with MTV. Geffen’s head of PR, Bryn Bridenthal, could not understand the band’s stance: ‘You can’t just expect success in the UK to translate over to the States without any churning of the waters. The business was ruled by promotion and those people wanted to think you cared or they would move on to another band that did care.’

  The Face had travelled to LA to interview the band during this promotional push in America. Squire was sick, confined to bed with pleurisy – a serious inflammation of the linings of the lungs and chest. The band were described as ‘shambolic, lethargic, utterly wayward’ and ‘promotional duties were rearranged, missed or attended by half of the band’. The Roses were interviewed separately for the story that would appear in March 1995, with just Brown on the cover, and the headline ‘Stone Roses to Hell and Back’.

  ‘The Stone Roses were never as great as everyone said,’ Squire said. ‘I’ve got another album almost written, I made a list of songs up yesterday actually.’ He was asked how he felt the other band members viewed him. ‘Miserable, capricious and inscrutable,’ he said. Reni was asked if the group were ultimately destined to underachieve. ‘I get that vibe sometimes,’ he said. ‘But I’m sick of underachieving now.’ Reni also talked, unusually for him, about his personal life. ‘These things don’t change the way you look, but you grow up so much inside.’ Asked about his attitude towards the band, he appeared optimistic: ‘There really is nothing I’d rather do, you know, than be in this band right now.’

  Pennie Smith was again travelling with the band, documenting this American promotional trip. With Squire holed up in his hotel room, it was near impossible to shoot the band together. She memorably photographed them in LA, in the rain in a gas station, where Reni spent most of the shoot on a payphone and, inexplicably, wore a hat made to look like a chicken. ‘Things felt odd with Reni,’ Smith said. ‘They were all on good form individually, but you didn’t often see them together. Maybe they knew the game was up.’

  The Roses returned to the UK in February 1995 to shoot a video for ‘Ten Storey Love Song’. They were due back in America for live dates in mid-May, with a world tour planned to start, in Europe, on 19 April. There had been talk of UK dates in March, but they’d been cancelled due to Squire’s pleurisy. A further batch of secret UK gigs intended for April was also cancelled, after, the band claimed, the dates were leaked. The real reason was the Roses weren’t ready to play live. They did announce they would be headlining the Glastonbury Festival in June, their first UK date in over five years.

  In Manchester, rehearsals for the tour were not running smoothly. Reni’s erratic timekeeping and no-shows were causing problems, and he also failed to make it to the video shoot for ‘Ten Storey Love Song’. Pennie Smith was asked to blow up a photograph of his head, and that was stuck on a stick and used in the background for the video. Geffen had hooked the band up with video director Sophie Muller, best known for her work with The Eurythmics, and had allowed her a big budget. She had met the band in New York and discussed ideas with Squire.

  Muller hired a sixty-man crew and built an elaborate set in a studio in London’s East End. As well as no Reni, Brown also missed the first day of the two-day shoot. The manager-less band was in organizational disarray, and the first day of the shoot clashed with Brown’s son’s birthday. He phoned Muller to tell her he’d be ‘down later’. She was astounded. When he did show, Muller offered him a shooting script. The storyline focused on Brown lying ill on a bed with a fever, hallucinating, but it was the first he had heard about it. Brown didn’t want to be perceived as being ill, and although he eventually acquiesced to the demands of the script, it was another unsatisfactory, unsettling episode.

  ‘Ten Storey Love Song’ was released on 6 March, and to promote it the band finally granted the NME an interview. Under the headline ‘We’re Still Arrogant Sods! The Stone Roses Take on the World’ only three of the Roses appeared on the cover – Reni again absent. ‘We hope we will be together this time next year but we can’t say,’ said Squire. ‘It’s a random universe. I can really see us drifting apart if the band didn’t exist.’ The cover shot was poorly choreographed and the band’s look was not strong. Squire wore a cycling top, Brown’s hair was still growing out from when he had shaved his long locks during the final stages of recording the album, and Mani looked ill in an oversized felt hat.

  On the same day ‘Ten Storey Love Song’ entered the UK charts, at number 11, the Roses settled out of court with Evans. They simply could not face the ordeal of the High Court again, and it was reputed they paid off their former manager, who was now forty-five, with around a quarter of a million pounds. It left a huge hole in the band’s finances, and the settlement was not publicized.

  The Roses, minus Squire, who was still recovering from his illness – which had developed into pneumonia – appeared on Jo Whiley and Steve Lamacq’s Radio 1 Evening Session. They were there to play some favourite records and talk up the comeback. Brown displayed a deep and impressive knowledge of rap and reggae, but it was Reni who dominated, cracking jokes (Squire was suffering from ‘oldmoania’, he said), putting on accents and generally lightening the mood. His style clashed with Brown’s more serious tone. For Reni the band had already broken up. Squire, he sussed, had his own agenda for the Roses, and Reni could see the guitarist was growing more dictatorial. The idea of the band as a unit – it was laughable.

  Brown was wound up by all manner of irritations as the band headed to the wall: Squire, Evans, MCA, Geffen, Reni … the list went on. His personal life was in disarray, and every setback the band encountered eroded a little more of their once-indomitable status. Reni’s attitude rankled him – quitting one minute, buoyant and bubbling the next – and as well as love there was hurt in Brown’s heart. The two had already clashed over Goldstein, and Brown now attacked Reni over his catalogue of recent no-shows – venting his many frustrations. It was a big row, but the Rose
s had always argued, and perhaps a show of passion would be invigorating.

  The malaise was, however, too firmly entrenched and could not be shifted so easily. Reni was caught in two minds. He faced problems over committing to the demands of a world tour, but he had given over ten years of his life to the Roses and making the decision to walk away was pulling him apart. There were suggestions that the songwriting income could be shared more equally, because otherwise the band would essentially be working for the benefit of main songwriter Squire – who would go on collecting his publishing royalties as the band toured to pay off the financial debt incurred from settling with Evans. It was an issue that had destroyed many bands, and Brown was open to suggestions of a more equal division.

  In different ways, though, and for different reasons, all four Roses were sapped of their inner strength, and behind the famed Manc lip the band’s belief in what they were and who they were had never been more vulnerable. The world tour was now less than three weeks away. The Roses were booked into New Order’s rehearsal space in Cheetham Hill, Manchester, to prepare for what would be their first shows in almost five years. Reni’s attitude was haphazard, and although that had always been part of his charm – an important part of what made them so unique – Mani and Squire were getting bored with it. Brown felt the noose around his neck tightening. Two weeks away from the world tour, Brown was fed up and frustrated. Reni needed reassurance, and his attitude only mirrored Brown’s own doubt and disappointment with the band. The two had another row, turning on one another over the tension in rehearsals. Brown wanted to see more commitment. The argument escalated. Reni told Brown to get another drummer.

  The next day at rehearsals, a still-smarting Brown relayed the news to Squire and Mani that Reni had quit – and it was the final straw this time. ‘We said, Hang on a minute, we’ve got a tour starting in ten or twelve days,’ said Squire. Brown was spitting feathers. ‘Ian said he’d never work with him again, and that he wanted to see him in the gutter,’ said Squire. ‘I could see in Ian’s eyes that there was no turning back and that was the last nail in the coffin.’ Squire was annoyed, and a little ashamed, at two grown men – make that four – behaving like kids.

  The next day Reni phoned Brown: ‘I need to get down to rehearsal early so that me and Mani can rehearse, and you and John can come down later.’ Brown replied, ‘I’ve done what you told me to do last night.’ ‘What do you mean?’ asked Reni. ‘You told me to get another drummer, so I have,’ said Brown. ‘I’ll make sure you get your quarter of the money.’ It was sad. There was no fight left in either of them. ‘What are you going to do now?’ asked Brown. ‘Sign on, I suppose,’ was Reni’s answer.

  The band’s PR, Terri Hall, was told to prepare a statement to announce that Reni had quit ‘after a series of rows with the other three members’. She was shocked and immediately called the band’s plugger, Gareth Davies. ‘I pointed out to her that if ever there was a band that relied on the chemistry brought to it by its four members, that band was The Stone Roses,’ he said. ‘I said, If Reni goes, that’s the end of it. Terri paused and said that I must not mention that to anyone because it was what Philip [Hall] always used to say.’ On 5 April 1995 the statement was published in the NME. ‘It had died for me,’ Reni said. ‘I was happy to have gone.’

  16.

  Robbie

  With Reni gone, the Roses were over. Squire and Mani packed away their instruments. Brown did not, despite his claims, have another drummer ready to replace Reni instantly. But the Roses had approached another drummer. During the latter stages of recording Second Coming, when Reni’s absences from Rockfield had been a cause for concern, tour manager Steve Adge had asked Robbie Maddix if he would be interested in ‘helping out’ in the studio. Maddix had declined, fearing that Reni would find out.

  Adge didn’t want the Roses to end like this, and returned to the idea of approaching Maddix, who had first been noticed by the Roses in the late 1980s when he drummed with the well-respected Manchester rock-funk collective Gina Gina. Brown was aware of Maddix’s potential. His girlfriend Mitch had since taken him to see Rebel MC, the proto-jungle/pop rapper whom Maddix had drummed for at the time of his 1991 ‘Street Tuff’ breakthrough.

  More recently, Maddix had moved to London and enjoyed success as part of a production and songwriting team called New Underground. He had put a series of lucrative deals together for the team, such as work with the UK soul-scene connoisseurs’ favourite, Vivienne Mckone. In London, Maddix enjoyed the good life, recording in top studios, wearing designer threads and indulging his passion for flash cars. But the lackadaisical approach of the other key members of New Underground had left him disillusioned, and, as Adge set about the frantic search for him, he was actually close at hand – back in Manchester, having agreed to form a new band called Pleasure with former Happy Mondays singer Rowetta Satchell. Pleasure were rehearsing for the first time when, via a series of phone calls with associates, Maddix was finally tracked down and told of the offer he couldn’t refuse: the Roses drum stool.

  Adge, who knew the Roses as well as anyone, believed Maddix had the personality and energy to uplift the band and bring them back together. ‘He said, Remember when I was asking you before, and you said no, because Reni was still there?’ said Maddix. ‘Well, he’s left now. It’s official. It’s Reni’s choice. They haven’t kicked him out. The news is going to break on Tuesday.’

  Despite his experience and impressive presence, Maddix was just twenty-five, seven years younger than the rest of the Roses. Although he had played in an indie band as a teenager, indie music was not really his thing, and the only Roses song he knew was ‘Fools Gold’. ‘Adge just said, They don’t think they can carry on without Reni. They are my friends. I don’t want this thing to end,’ Maddix said. ‘It was put to me that the band was in a bit of a mess, so it wasn’t just a drumming job – it was for me to try and galvanize the group.’

  Maddix knew nothing of the Roses’ impending world tour when he agreed to meet the band in New Order’s Cheetham Hill rehearsal space. He borrowed a basic drum kit and set it up in the otherwise empty room. The Roses failed to show that day, and again the next. Maybe it was over. On the third day Squire walked in. ‘It was very much, I can’t get to know you because I don’t think this is real,’ said Maddix. ‘It’s a waste of time even being here. That’s the body language: really down.’ Next came Mani. ‘Mani’s more upbeat,’ said Maddix. ‘John picked out his guitar, tuned up – he only had a little amp and was just twiddling around. I couldn’t get an angle. It was just chaos.’ Squire started the ‘Breaking into Heaven’ riff, and Mani joined in. ‘I could just hear hip-hop,’ said Maddix. ‘I didn’t know the song. I just thought, That’s what it sounds like, so I’ll just put that beat there. John hooked on to it and it started to gel quickly. The levels started coming up and up, and it just became heavier. I saw Stevie Adge clicking his fingers as if to say, They’re back.’ Brown was the last to enter the room, carrying his microphone and a small Peavey PA system. ‘He walked in with his hand in the air, like, Oh my God, this is sounding good,’ said Maddix. ‘He came straight over to me and said, You cannot leave this room.’ It was 1 April 1995.

  After three days of chaotic, feedback-disrupted jamming, which left Maddix wondering why the band had such poor amps, Brown levelled with him. They had a world tour booked to start in twelve days. ‘I was like, What?’ said Maddix. ‘Where’s the backline, where’s the monitor engineer, where’s the crew? There was none of that.’ The band were ready to admit defeat. ‘They were saying, We’re going to have to cancel it. I said, No, we can do it.’

  Motivated by Maddix, production details, personnel and equipment were all hastily assembled. As the sound and lighting requirements were broadly being put in shape, Maddix also needed to learn the set. ‘We tried “Fools Gold” and it didn’t work,’ he said. There were fourteen other songs to negotiate, most from Second Coming but also studded with Roses’ classics such as ‘She Bangs the
Drums’ and ‘I Am the Resurrection’. Maddix took his lead from Mani or Squire, who would both make characteristic physical moves while playing to indicate a change in the momentum or direction of the songs. ‘It was tricky. Sometimes I’d get lost: where am I, what song is this? I would just carry it on.’

  It was never going to be the same, especially as Maddix had only been in the band for ten days, rather than Reni’s ten years. But there were encouraging signs, and the Roses decided they could make the first date of the world tour, in Oslo, on 19 April 1995. It was in that city that Maddix first realized the significance of what he had taken on, as a forty-strong press pack chased the band into the 1,350-capacity Rockefeller venue, cameras clicking non-stop. Maddix looked to the band for guidance, but they appeared to be as unprepared as he was. Melody Maker interviewed the band, and the departure of Reni was the obvious topic. ‘You ain’t getting shit out of us,’ said Mani. All further European press interviews were cancelled. The gig, the Roses’ first live date since June 1991, did not go well. After twenty minutes, frustrated with how the band were sounding, Squire smashed his guitar and walked off stage. Mani smashed his bass.

  ‘I thought it was an act,’ said Maddix. ‘Then I thought, They never told me about this bit, what do I do here? I looked at their faces and realized John was serious – he was ramming the head of the guitar into his speaker. And Mani’s face was contorted. Ian dropped the mic and that started feeding back.’ It was chaos, and backstage was not a pleasant place to be. Maddix had never seen anything like it: the crowd had been responding well until the tantrums. He threatened to quit.