Mick Jones: Stayin' In Tune - The Unauthorised Biography

by Mick O'Shea

  Ever anxious to ensure that the tour got rave reviews all round, Kosmo had arranged for Sounds and Melody Maker to send out their own Clash-friendly reporters – Pete Silverton and Allan Jones respectively – to cover 'The Quest' as he'd dubbed The Clash's mission to convert America to their particular brand of five-star rock 'n' roll.

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  'Taking the Fifth' is the colloquial term for when an American citizen invokes the Fifth Amendment of the US Constitution which protects against abuse of government authority in a legal procedure, but The Clash's use of the axiom could well have applied to their recruiting Mickey Gallagher as a temporary fifth member for the tour. Typically, Mickey didn't receive the call until the day before The Clash were due to leave for America. Mickey had been thinking of taking his family away on holiday when Joe called out of the blue with the group's proposition. When Mickey explained his thinking, Joe simply told him to bring the wife and kids along. Though it was too late in the day for Mickey to accompany The Clash from the off, he and the rest of the Gallagher clan joined up with the tour in Boston the following week.

  The cost of the wide-ranging support acts would also take a large bite out of whatever money The Clash were set to make on the tour. Just as they had done on the Pearl Harbor '79 Tour, they invited Bo Diddley onto the bill for the 14 September Chicago show, while Sam and Dave, and Screamin' Jay Hawkins were to be reintroduced to American audiences at various junctures.

  The Clash also paid their dues to the New York Dolls by inviting David Johansen to open proceedings on the tour's official opening night at the St. Paul Civic Centre in Minnesota, while Johnny Thunders' latest outfit 'Gang War' – which also featured former MC5 guitarist Wayne Kramer* in the line-up – appeared as special guests at the show in Worcester, Massachusetts.

  The Tribal Stomp II Festival was the brainchild of Chet Helms, the colourful Bay Area music promoter who'd made his name promoting a wide range of artists in San Francisco during the mid-to-late Sixties. Helms had also managed psychedelic rock outfit Big Brother and Holding Company, and was responsible for turning the group's mixed fortunes around by recruiting an unknown singer called Janis Joplin. Helms was hoping the festival would recreate the mystique of the legendary Monterey International Pop Festival of June 1967, but despite repeated assurances that the festival would be a resounding success, Helms' aspirations didn't quite live up to everyone else's expectations as only 500 of the 12,000 tickets available had been sold. Adding insult to the general air of despondency looming large over the carnival was the fact that those Californians that had deemed the festival's billing worthy of the $12.50 admission fee were all decked out in a kaleidoscopic array of kaftans, tie-dyed dresses, love beads, and other hippie ephemera.

  The Clash were included in the festival's opening afternoon bill along with Soul Syndicate, and the Chambers Brothers. Also playing that day was Joe Ely, whom The Clash had befriended the previous summer while the Country rocker was in London promoting his second album, Honky Tonk Masquerade.

  Somewhat surprisingly, given that they'd spent the last six weeks or so playing and listening to the songs intended for the new album, the only one to feature in the festival set-list was the title track itself, 'London Calling'.

  Four days later The Clash took the fifth for real at the Saint Paul Civic Centre; one of those soulless, circular concrete wombs that are woefully unsuited for rock 'n' roll – regardless of Elvis having played there back in the day. The vacuous setting certainly didn't do the group any favours, and served to stifle their onstage creativity.

  The American media had the grace to put The Clash's flat-lining down to opening night nerves, but Pete Silverton of Sounds chose to lay the blame squarely at Joe and Paul's door for being a 'sideshow to the main action which is Mick running the show from the centre of the stage, arguing with the roadies, chivvying the sound guys, and deciding which song they're gonna run through next.' Unbeknown to Silverton, Mick had been throwing his weight around behind the scenes by rejecting the tour backdrop that Paul had conceived back in London. The backdrop, which depicted WWII American B52 bombers with their bay doors open, raining their cargo of death down in the direction of Topper's kit, had set The Clash back £1,500, yet despite having raised no objections to playing under the Pearl Harbor '79 Tour banner at the beginning of the year, just as with Rocco McCauley's Belfast street scene backdrop, Mick now rejected the new backdrop on account of it 'promoting violence'.4

  Ray Lowry was dutifully commissioned to come up with a lessconfrontational replacement, and the cartoonist would spend a frustratingly fruitless couple of days dashing around Manhattan flitting from art loft to art loft with a huge canvas under his arm. His efforts would come to nought, however, for as soon as he mentioned why he needed their studio space, the proprietor would bump up the price. As a result, the multi-flag backdrop that had first been unfurled at the Harlesden Roxy shows the previous October was hurriedly flown over and pressed into service.

  The collective mood wasn't improved when the tour rolled into Chicago two days later only to discover Epic hadn't as yet stumped up the $20,000 Blackhill had requested the label contribute towards the tour. What had initially seemed an administrative oversight was soon seen for what it was when CBS suggested they be allowed to release the US version of The Clash in the UK, and advance the group moneys from the royalties they could expect to earn in order to finance the tour.

  The Clash, however, refused point blank, and it was only when they threatened to hail a cab to O'Hare International that Epic relented and released the promised funds.

  The tour might have been back on, but having suffered The Clash's sling and arrow insults during the subsidy stand-off with Epic proved too much for the hapless Mark Wissing, who tended his resignation as liaison between the two forthwith.

  On the day of the show itself a local celebrity DJ failed to show at the hotel to interview Mick owing to his having spent the previous night out on the tiles with a bag of coke and a local hooker. His subsequent attempt to assuage The Clash guitarist's feelings by turning up backstage at the Aragon Ballroom and presenting Mick with two of the hooker's friends only served to heighten The Clash's increasing sense of estrangement.

  Following shows in Detroit, Cleveland, and Boston the tour bus wended its way down the Eastern seaboard to New York for two soldout shows over consecutive nights at the Palladium. Trouser Press' Ira Robbins was once again in attendance to commit his thoughts on the evening's events to paper. Having opined there was little chance of a Clash show 'being [either] slick or standard', went on to add that the 'fearsome foursome – survivors of enough self induced setbacks to stop an army – [had] reached a level where it's not how good they are at any particular gig, it's how hard they work to make it good.'

  From the moment The Clash hit the stage and blasted into the opening three-song salvo: 'Safe European Home', 'I'm So Bored With The USA' and 'Complete Control' they worked at a frenetic pace to ensure everyone within the converted theatre – be it the ordinary fans, the press, or the celebrity 'glitterati' – would be talking about the show for months to come. Robbins certainly went away happy, believing The Clash could be both fun and exciting having 'maintained their unique ethics while adopting enough conventional technique to make a concert fully satisfying, for critics and paying customers alike.'

  It is the following night's Palladium outing, which, thanks to a certain photograph, has served to earn The Clash a lasting place in rock 'n' roll legend.

  Smashing up instruments during a show had become almost as passé as the trashing of hotel rooms by the late-Seventies. So much so, that it took Sid Vicious' bludgeoning of a heckler with his bass midway through the Sex Pistols' show in San Antonio for people to sit up and take notice again. Yet while Pete Townshend has the honour of the first accredited onstage guitar-smash from his trashing his Rickenbacker at the Railway Hotel back in September 1964, it was Pennie Smith's snap-photo of Paul slamming his Fender Precession bass into the Palladium sta
ge which the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame subsequently inducted as the 'ultimate rock 'n' roll rock photo'.

  The Pearl Harbor '79 Tour may have given The Clash a taste of touring America, but on that occasion they'd only been called upon to play nine shows in three weeks and with this latest jaunt cramming twentythree dates into five weeks it was inevitable that the Groundhog Day existence of traversing the vast expanse that is the continental USA would gradually begin to wear everyone down.

  Joe cracked as early as Detroit when he smashed a reporter's tape recorder, whereas the smashed Fender Precision residing in the bus' cargo hold bore silent testimony that the normally placid Paul was feeling the strain. When Mick finally succumbed to a bout of cabin fever following a show at the O'Keefe Centre in Toronto, rather than target a tape recorder or guitar, he made everyone suffer by refusing to board the bus until someone procured him a spliff.

  Under normal circumstances this wouldn't have seemed a strange request, but this was Canada not Camden Town. With Mick still refusing to budge, someone pointed out that scoring weed would be less of a problem once they were back across the border. Mick wasn't interested and staged a one-man sit-in while a couple of obliging fans hurried off in a cab to score some weed. Mickey Gallagher was gobsmacked and couldn't work out who to consider the worse offender: Mick for holding everyone up for the sake of a spliff, or the rest of the group putting up with his tantrum.

  It wasn't only the musicians' moods that were wearing thin by this juncture, however, as The Clash's purse was also near empty and Epic were refusing to get out their chequebook. Johnny and the Baker were accustomed to working with little or no money, but the American road crew didn't know Mick Jones from Casey Jones and went on strike.

  Kosmo tried to intervene, but to the Americans he was just the fasttalking Limy in a loud suit that got in their way prancing around at the side of the stage during showtime. Thankfully, Johnny Green knew how to walk their walk and got them to retire to a room with a few bottles of whichever southern comfort took their fancy while the cash-flow problems were sorted out.

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  Upon their return to London, The Clash reconvened at Wessex Studio with Mickey Gallagher once again providing piano. They were there primarily to oversee the overdubs and remixes for London Calling, as well as record Wilbert 'Willi' Williams' 'Armagideon Time', which The Clash had introduced into the set at the Tribal Stomp II festival, and was now earmarked as the B-side of 'London Calling'; the introductory single that would serve as a tantalising taster for the album.

  Prior to leaving for America Kosmo had entered negotiations with the NME to look at repeating the flexi-disc single idea that had proved so successful with The Clash to promote London Calling. By the time he'd finally cajoled the paper into agreeing The Clash had just twenty-four hours to come up with a new song if they were to meet the deadline. This was a big ask, but Mick returned the next afternoon with both the tune and finished lyric to 'Train In Vain'; a funky, soul-pop ode to his lost love, Viv Albertine.

  Although Mick and Viv had enjoyed an on/off and oft tempestuous relationship, Viv had moved into Simon Close with Mick earlier in the year. However, with The Slits' star rising in ascendancy thanks in part to their ongoing association with The Clash, the pressure of trying to maintain their relationship finally became too much for her.

  'Mick used to cry and cry about Viv,' Johnny Green revealed. 'She was quite hard on him. He rarely behaved like that with other women. He played the rock star normally, but with Viv, no. It's the only time I've ever seen him like that. She broke his heart. He was in love with her.'5

  The Slits' debut album, Cut, had been released on Polydor whilst The Clash were in America, and Mick returned to find that Viv had twisted the knife in the track 'Ping Pong Affair'. Though she's careful not to mention him by name, with the song's lyric referring to the female protagonist declaring that her jilted lover – who is left sulking in his room – can have his records and comics back while she heads off down Ladbroke Grove to have some fun, leaves little doubt as to who the song is about.

  A far more personal revelation came in 2014 with the publication of her autobiography, Clothes, Clothes, Clothes, Music, Music, Music, Boys, Boys, Boys, in which Viv confesses to having aborted Mick's unborn child sometime during 1978.

  Having booked herself into a clinic in Brighton with just two days to spare before she'd be over the legal voluntary termination limit, Viv had called Mick to drop the bombshell. 'Before I leave I tell Mick over the phone that I'm pregnant and I'm off to the hospital to deal with it on my own. He offers to come with me but I don't want him to. I don't want to feel anything. If he's there I might feel something.'6

  In the book Viv ends her narrative on the subject by saying although she didn't regret having the abortion for twenty years, and still believes it a woman's fundamental right to choose, she did eventually come to regret her decision, and wishes she had kept the baby.

  Bill Price has always maintained that the tune to 'Train In Vain' – if only as a backing-track – had been laid down before The Clash flew out to America. Even if this were true, it was still an exceptional effort on Mick's part. Joe would subsequently claim his aversion to 'jealousy and heterosexual complaining songs' as the reason for his allowing Mick the honour of singing lead vocal on the song, but Mick's burning the midnight oil to meet the deadline must surely have figured in his decision.7

  Despite pulling out all the stops, Kosmo's strategy came to nought when the NME's parent company IPC rejected the flexi-single idea out of hand. The Clash could, of course, have tucked the new song in the vault for a later day, but as the initial idea had been to give the fans a freebie, it was decided to tag the uncredited track onto the end of London Calling.

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  * The garage/studios were demolished in 1993, and standing on the site now is the London Diocesan House. (BACK)

  * In 1975 Kramer was caught selling cocaine to undercover federal agents and given a two-year prison sentence. In 'Jail Guitar Doors' The Clash name-check him with the couplet: 'Let me tell you about Wayne and his deals in cocaine…' (BACK)

  – CHAPTER TEN –

  ANOTHER DAY OLDER AND DEEPER IN DEBT

  'I actually like pop art, I like pop music, and I like pop culture. There wouldn't be any of the other stuff without it. We shouldn't look down on it. Pop's more about ideas. That's where it's interesting. The important thing is not who's doing what, but the overall impression, where ideas jump out. Rock would seem a bit more laboured.'

  – Mick Jones

  BLACKHILL HAD BEEN EQUALLY busy upon their return, and while The Clash were holed up at Wessex recording 'Armageddon Time' and 'Train In Vain', their management were frantically finalising a forty-date UK tour to promote London Calling, set to commence with a warm-up show at the Friars, Aylesbury, on 5 January. The group were itching to get out on the road again, so much so they decided to spice up Christmas by booking two festive dates at the 250-capacity Aklam Hall – a Ladbroke Grove community centre situated directly beneath the Westway – for Christmas Day and Boxing Day – 'to play for all them who don't have a family blow-out and a kip during the James Bond film,' as Mick sold the idea to a bemused Johnny Green.

  In keeping with the festive spirit, the admission price for their 'Christmas Dinner Dance' was set at 50p, and the Xmas card-style flyers featured two Pennie Smith pics: one of Mick sporting a straw boater and red nose, and the other of The Clash posing in Stella's living room dressed in their Americana finery. Alas, the festive cheer didn't extend to Soho Square, and with no money forthcoming the group were forced to scrimp on the PA, while Kosmo paid for the flyers out of his own pocket.

  With Christmas Day being the one day of the year when all was still and not a creature stirred, those who happened upon one of the eyecatching flyers simply assumed some wag was pulling a festive hoax. Regardless of the hall being less than half-full, however, The Clash played as if their lives depended on it and gave those hardy souls that had
abandoned their sofas and leftover turkey in favour of chancing their arm a Christmas night to savour.

  Needless to say, with the word that The Clash's Christmas extravaganza was genuine spreading quicker than the flu, the Boxing Night bash was packed to the rafters.

  The Clash made it a hat-trick of London dates when – billed as 'mystery guests' – they played alongside Ian Dury & the Blockheads and Matumbi on the second night of a four-show Benefit for Kampuchea at the Hammersmith Odeon. Following the recent fall of the Pol Pot regime, refugees from the former Cambodia were pouring into neighbouring Thailand. Although new crops would be harvested in the summer, in the interim 1,000 tonnes of food and emergency supplies would need to be airlifted into the country each day if disaster was to be averted.

  Adding their name to what was undoubtedly a noble cause was part and parcel to being in The Clash, but it would prove a night of mixed fortunes for Mick owing to his relenting to Kosmo's badgering and joining the Ian Dury and the Blockheads on stage for 'Sweet Gene Vincent'. This show of grandstanding didn't sit well with the rest of the group. Joe was particularly incensed and tore into Mick backstage for getting ideas above his station. Mick was said to be so upset that he burst into tears, but went on anyway.