Mick Jones: Stayin' In Tune - The Unauthorised Biography

by Mick O'Shea

  Realising where this unconcealed show of gusto for Kelvin was heading, Mick and John immediately set about dampening Brady's and Geir's enthusiasm with less-than-complimentary tales of the Kelvin of old.

  Their powers of dissuasion appeared to have the desired effect – especially when a second attempt to unearth a suitably 'DECADENT MALE VOCALIST' was made courtesy of the 22 March 1975 issue of Melody Maker.

  Once again, however, their net brought in shrimps instead of sharks, and they were deciding what their next course of action should be when fate's fickle fingers lent a hand and John received a letter from Tony Gordon enquiring how they were getting on with their search for a singer. Fearing that Gordon might lose interest should they respond in the negative, Brady and Geir recommenced with their 'we want Kelvin' campaign. Although Mick maintained his anti-Kelvin stance, John's indecision over Gordon's letter was enough to carry the vote.

  They might have found their man, but cajoling Kelvin into listening to their overtures would be no easy matter seeing as Overtown had not only secured a residency at the Marquee, but were also set to go into the studio to record a single. Given that Mick, John, and Geir's collective skills couldn't have improved all that much in so short a time, Kelvin's acquiescence could only have come from Brady's talents coupled with Tony Gordon's interest.

  Kelvin officially became a Delinquent following a full audition on Friday, 11 April 1975, and just as Mick and John had foreseen, their new singer wasted little time in stamping his authority. To his mind, he should be the group's principle songwriter, and from that point on rehearsals became a 'battle-of-the-bards' as the newcomer used every trick up his sleeve – including wilfully drawing from the plagiarism well in an attempt to usurp Mick.

  Despite the in-house one-upmanship, the Delinquents knuckled down to knocking their new set-list – which included cover-versions of Chuck Berry's 'Little Queenie' and the Yardbirds' 'I'm Not Talking' – into shape before performing a showcase in front of Tony Gordon at a suitably dingy rehearsal space in King's Cross that the Hollywood Brats had used on occasion.

  Their effort to project a deadbeat image was completely wasted on Gordon, however, as his only prerequisite before drawing up a managerial contract was that the group changed its name to 'Little Queenie' after the Chuck Berry song.

  ♪♪♪

  On 7 May 1975, the newly-named Little Queenie performed a second showcase for Gordon at the far more upmarket Track Studios in Acton. Gordon had brought along a friend of his from Pye Records, whose pressing service The Delinquents had used for their promo demo the previous September. Having received a favourable nod from the Pye man, Gordon invited the group to Wedge's offices at 13 Duke Street. Perhaps not surprisingly, given that The Delinquents/Little Queenie were virtually unknowns, the management contract weighed heavily in Gordon's favour.

  Kelvin and Brady cared little for the contractual small print, and now that they'd secured professional representation, coupled with the possibility Little Queenie might secure a recording contract with Pye, the duo decided they could no longer afford to carry what they saw as dead Norwegian wood.

  Two days after signing with Gordon a meeting was convened at Gladsmuir Road, where Mick was now living having taken over one of the upstairs bed-sits. Mick viewed Kelvin and Brady's pronouncement as an act of betrayal, but with John having suffered most from Geir's wayward drumming, his was the sole voice of dissension. He thought that with Tony Gordon anxious to get the group into Pye's Bryanston Street 16-track studio at the earliest opportunity to record some new demos Geir might be granted a stay of execution, but Kelvin had already surreptitiously sounded out Jim Hyatt.

  Somewhat surprisingly, given they'd enough compositions of their own to choose from, when they accompanied Gordon into the Pye studio they ended up recording Chuck Berry's 'Little Queenie', as well as the Frankie Miller Band's 'A Fool In Love', which Kelvin and Jim were already familiar with as the song had been a staple of the Overtown live set.

  Rather than pay for Pye's in-house producer, Gordon elected to produce the two tracks himself, but while Mick and John were pleased with the finished results, Brady and Kelvin were less so. They were also harbouring doubts about Gordon's managerial capabilities, and prior to going into the studio Kelvin had done the rounds visiting every other management company in London to see if he might secure a better deal. It was on one of these forays that that he bumped into Guy Stevens.

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  Aside from pointing Mott The Hoople in the right direction, Guy, who'd first come to prominence on the London music scene during the early-Sixties while DJing at The Scene Club in Soho, had enhanced his Midas touch reputation by heading the UK division of Sue Records for Island Records' supremo Chris Blackwell. Following Mott The Hoople's decision to decamp to David Bowie's MainMan team, however, Guy's career had been in terminal free-fall; the tailspin being propelled by his proclivity for hard-drinking and drug-binging.

  Guy's ever-increasing daily intake of speed and spirits had left him something of a pariah in London, but he still had important friends in America who were always willing to take his calls; the most notable being Warner Brothers' president, Mo Ostin, who was happy to keep Guy on a £100 per week retainer.

  When Kelvin appeared within his drug-induced fug saying how Little Queenie were on the verge of signing a recording contract, but were unhappy with their management, Guy readily seized the opportunity to get himself a slice of the Pye.

  A meeting was hastily arranged in Marylebone at one of Guy's favoured watering holes, but while the free-flowing drink coupled with an endless stream of amusing anecdotes from his time in the industry made for an enjoyable afternoon, it was going to take more than Guy's name to persuade Tony Gordon to release Little Queenie from their contract. Luckily, Kelvin had a cunning plan…

  Gordon is still in the music business, and boasts a CV that includes managing Sham 69 and Culture Club, as well as overseeing Boy George's subsequent solo career. Yet despite The Clash having been one of the best known bands in the world during that particular timeframe, he claims to have no recollection of Little Queenie, or the bizarre events that occurred at his offices on the afternoon of Monday, June 2, 1975, when Kelvin leapt up onto his desk and writhed around until Gordon capitulated and signed a release form.

  Mick was thrilled to have Guy as their manager, but his euphoria would prove short-lived for having sat in on the next Little Queenie rehearsal Guy deemed him surplus to requirements. Taking Kelvin and Brady to one side Guy told them he believed Little Queenie would benefit from sacrificing Mick in favour of a keyboardist.

  When Kelvin and Brady delivered Guy's verdict at the next Gladsmuir Road group meeting John thought the idea insane, and in a fit of pique announced he was quitting the group. However, with Guy supposedly having Mo Ostin's ear he knew he would be cutting his nose off to spite his face and having got Mick's blessing he subsequently retracted his resignation.

  When reminiscing about the decision that would ultimately prove one of the most heavily disguised blessings of all, Mick graciously said he understood Guy's reasoning. 'You see I was a pretty limited guitar player when I got fired, and that made me go back to my bedroom and practise along to all my records for a year,' he explained. 'When I came out again I was accomplished. At first I was terrible, and it was almost righteous that I should get chucked out but the only thing was – and I didn't really realise it at the time – but I was actually the main song writer in the group, so it screwed up that whole situation because they chucked me out.'3

  Three weeks after Mick's dismissal on 27 June, and having fulfilled the second stage of Guy's master plan by changing their name to Violent Luck, the newly-truncated four-piece played a showcase for a Warner Brothers representative at PSL studios in Battersea. Just why Guy forged ahead with the showcase without having brought in the keyboardist supposedly pivotal to his plans for Violent Luck is anyone's guess, but within days of the showcase Jim Hyatt was summoned to Gladsmuir Road.
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  Warner Bros. may have been impressed enough to hand Guy the money to take Violent Luck into Air Studios in Oxford Circus to record some demos – with Leo Sayer's drummer, Theodore Thunder, filling in for Jim, and ex-Mott The Hoople keyboardist Verden Allen on hand to flesh out the sound – but with Mick gone the dynamic would never be the same.

  While Mick was still with Little Queenie, Kelvin had introduced him to a bass player called Tony James, who was reading mathematics at Brunel University. What Mick didn't know at the time was that Kelvin had met Tony after responding to the latter's Melody Maker 'ad whilst with Overtown. Tony had been on the hunt for a frontman for his prog rock outfit, Random Frog, and had been piqued when Kelvin opted to be a Delinquent at the eleventh hour. The two had kept in touch, however, which was how he came to accompany Kelvin to several Little Queenie rehearsals.

  Kelvin has since claimed it was he who put Mick and Tony together, but Mick remembers things differently. 'We (Little Queenie) were in this place down in South London practising,' he explained. 'I didn't know it at the time, but I was just about to be taken out for a drink, which means getting fired. Kelvin brought this guy in to soften the blow. He sort of introduced me to Tony, so it was soon after that I got fired from the group. By that time I'd become Tony's friend, so we started putting a band together the two of us.'4

  – CHAPTER FOUR –

  WHAT'S MY NAME?

  'I met Bernie Rhodes in 1975, in a place in West Kensington called the Nashville Rooms. He had this cap on and he looked rock 'n' roll, sort of like Gene Vincent, so I went over to talk to him and said, 'Are you a piano player?' and he said, 'No, I'm not, but you're wearing one of my T-shirts.'

  – Mick Jones

  ACCORDING TO LEGEND, WITH the notable exception of the Sex Pistols, every other group that graduated from the fabled 'Class of '76' could lay claim to having had at least one former member of the fabled London SS within its line-up at one time or another. The Damned could boast two ex-SSers in Brian James (no relation to Tony), and Rat Scabies, while future Clash-gangers Paul Simonon, Terry Chimes, and Topper Headon would all try out for the group with varying degrees of success. However, the two names that will forever be indelibly linked with London SS are, of course, Mick Jones and Tony James.

  Mick would subsequently claim that London SS stood for 'London Social Security', rather than an overt reference to Hitler's dreaded Schultz Staffel. Yet while his being Jewish on his mother's side adds gravitas to this explanation, it's worth remembering that his latest guitar hero Johnny Thunders had recently caused an uproar at Orly Airport during the Dolls' European tour by sporting a swastika armband.

  In July 1975, Mick and Tony placed an ad in the Melody Maker classifieds seeking a lead guitarist and drummer whose musical influences matched their own – Stones, NY Dolls, Mott etc. Another, perhaps, more important, prerequisite for those thinking of applying was that they have 'a great rock'n'roll image'.

  One of the first to respond was the aforementioned Brian James, who'd formed his own Dolls/MC5-inspired three-piece outfit, the colourfully named 'Bastard', the previous summer. On realising London wasn't yet ready for what he was offering, however, he'd suggested the trio try their luck on the continent.

  Bastard settled on Belgium, but having realised that the Flemish pastures were no greener than they were in Frognal Brian had kept a watchful eye on the Melody Maker classifieds. On spotting Mick and Tony's ad he'd headed for Ostend and booked a seat on the next ferry home. 'It was like, Christ! Somebody in this country has actually heard of these people,' Brian explained. 'These were bands I'd been into for a couple of years, and in England there was nothing like that.'1

  Though willing to commit himself fully to the London SS cause, Brian thought it only fair that he return to Belgium to break the news to his unsuspecting bandmates in person. In the meantime, Mick's idea for London SS gradually coalesced into a group of sorts; with Geir Waade and Casino Steel, Casino's fellow ex-Hollywood Brat, Andrew Matheson, and future Boys frontman Matt Dangerfield getting together on a regular basis at Dangerfield's squat at 47a Warrington Crescent in Maida Vale.

  It was during this time that Mick would encounter the man who would play a significant role in his musical fortunes.

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  Mick's apocryphal meeting with Bernard Rhodes (call him 'Bernie' at your peril) occurred on Saturday, 2 August, at the Nashville Rooms* on the North End Road in West Kensington where an up-and-coming Liverpool outfit called Deaf School were showcasing their talents. Despite its flash-sounding name, the Nashville was a squalid pub, with even seedier décor and clientele; its only saving grace being that it hosted regular live music.

  Mick and Tony had gone along to the Nashville that evening as much to be seen on the scene as they were to check out what the risqué-sounding Deaf School were offering. They naively assumed they and their circle of friends were the only souls in London – if not the entire country – who knew about the New York Dolls, The MC5, and The Stooges. Their unshakable belief that they were two of the coolest kids in school was therefore shattered on seeing some little bloke in a peaked cap sporting the same T-shirt as Mick.

  Bernard was the peak-capped sporting bloke, and the T-shirt in question bore the now iconic motif: 'You're Gonna Wake Up One Morning And Know Which Side Of The Bed You've Been Lying On', beneath which was a 'Hates' list featuring those pop stars, artists, politicians and fashion houses that they deemed to have gone beyond their sell-by date, and a corresponding 'Loves' list featuring the names of those the entrepreneurial trio considered fresh and relevant.

  Mick had purchased his shirt from SEX, the happening World's End emporium situated on the wrong end of the ultra-fashionable King's Road that he and Tony had discovered recently, so was somewhat taken aback that the diminutive, mole-like character standing before them could possibly know about the shop.

  By the time Malcolm McLaren, and his business partner/girlfriend Vivienne Westwood, first set up shop at 430 King's Road in October 1971, Bernard – one of several profiteering ventures – was running a stall on the nearby Antiquarius Antiques Market selling second-hand leather jackets. 'Malcolm and Vivienne were jealous of me because my second-hand leather jackets were selling as fast as I set them out on the stall. They didn't like that, so they brought me in. We tossed some ideas about, and they brought me in to help them out by coming up with designs for a range of T-shirts.'

  Mick remembers asking Bernard if he was a piano player, while Tony says he half-jokingly told him to 'piss off out of it' as he was cramping their style, to which Bernard angrily retorted that they should be the ones doing the pissing off as he'd designed the T-shirt.

  In what can be best described as a sartorial stand-off between the three, Bernard then demanded to know what Mick and Tony had going for them. During the ensuing conversation, Mick and Tony told Bernard about London SS, while he in turn revealed he was involved with a group operating out of Tin Pan Alley, an outfit who were calling themselves the Sex Pistols.

  It's Bernard's ongoing reticence to go before the camera, which allowed Malcolm to downplay his part in the Sex Pistols' nascent history, relegating him to the role of babysitter whilst he was over in New York playfully tossing lighted matches onto the few remaining bridges the ailing New York Dolls had at their backs.

  As Malcolm told the same tale at every turn, said tale inevitably became set in stone. Yet, when trawling through the storage crates while preparing for a house move in August 2012, Bernard happened upon a batch of dog-eared letters that Malcolm had written to him c/o 430 Kings Road, in which – aside from discussing new ideas for clothes, and his encounters with Andy Warhol – he repeatedly urges Bernard to concentrate his energies on having Steve and Paul learn the stolen instruments which were apparently collecting dust within the SEX storeroom.

  'I loved Malcolm, but he fucked me over on the T-shirts, and he fucked me over on the Pistols,' says Bernard today. 'I was the one looking after them while he was in New York with the Do
lls but when he came back to London, he was like, "It's my band."

  'I thought right, if that's the way you want to play it, I'm gonna fuck you over. And I did it by planting a bomb with a slow-burning fuse. I knew immediately that John [Rotten] would fuck with Malcolm. He was obnoxious and Southern Irish, so he had a huge chip on his shoulder.'

  Like Mick, Bernard was of Russo-Jewish descent, and had forebears who'd fallen victim to the SS death squads following the Nazis' invasion of Russia in June 1941, but he was sufficiently intrigued by Mick and Tony to offer his services as their manager.

  Having selected an appropriate artistic metaphor in telling his new charges to visualise the future of rock 'n' roll as a blank canvas – one with no room for Elvis, The Beatles, or the Rolling Stones – Bernard's first act as manager was to call his charges to a meeting at the Bull and Bush pub on Shepherd's Bush Green, where he proceeded to dump a bag full of SS paraphernalia – swastikas, Iron Crosses SS daggers etc. – on the table in full view of the other patrons.