by Mick O'Shea
Being a jobbing musician, Ivan understood how tension can quickly build up when the dollars are disappearing with each tick of the clock, but he was struck by Mick's domineering personality. 'There weren't any rows as such, [but] Mick would push people when it was sometimes uncalled for,' he revealed. 'There'd be a time when the guys would feel like breaking out, and Mick would be insisting we carry on. It was like, "Come on, what's your problem?"'9
Ivan might not have witnessed any serious disputes between Mick and Joe, but by the time The Clash reconvened at Wessex in midAugust following the Sixteen Tons European dates cracks were beginning to appear in the group's creative partnership. Evidence that Joe was feeling the strain came at the opening European date in Hamburg with his smashing a young German skinhead about the head with his Telecaster in retaliation for the skinhead using the lad in front of him as a human punch-bag. Joe was lucky to escape serious charges, but instead of taking a much-needed break he agreed to assist Mick with the song-writing on Spirit Of St Louis, the second album by Mick's Epic label mate and new girlfriend Ellen Foley* (Seven of the songs making up the final track-listing are credited as Strummer-Jones compositions). All four members of The Clash would make guest appearances on the album, and Mick would also take over the production chair at Wessex where Ellen recorded the album.
It was whilst The Clash were recording in New York that Mick first became hip to the new music that was buzzing around the Big Apple. Although Joe and Paul were happy to borrow a little of what was going down with the kids in Harlem and the South Bronx on songs such as 'The Magnificent Seven', Mick embraced rap with a passion, as he later revealed to Paulo Hewitt: 'Ever since I hit that New York club for the first time, I thought, "God, beatbox", that was it for me. I knew I was still a guitar player and I stuck that on top of it.'10
'C'mon Every Beatbox' was still several years hence, yet while Mick saw the endless possibilities available to The Clash if he could only persuade Joe and Paul to give up rioting in favour of dancing, he has always maintained that he didn't view the group's experimentation with rap as particularly ground-breaking. 'We never thought that, at any time,' he subsequently revealed to Kris Needs. 'We were just sort of knocking out some numbers. It's like that's all we wanted to do; to do our thing. We didn't necessarily wanna be part of this big, happening thing that was so cool. We just did what we wanted to do. I guess it's because we had that kind of attitude.'11
Mick might have been the one espousing hip-hop, but it was Joe who first mooted the idea of The Clash trying their hand at some rap rock. 'Well, the thing was… it was just all around us,' Mick said in November 2007. 'Joe went like this, "Let's do a rap tune." Even though I was the one who was most enthusiastic about what seemed to be coming off the radio at the time, [and] excited about it. But it was actually Joe who went, "Uh, let's do a rap tune." When we did "The Magnificent Seven", which was going to be called "Magnificent Rappo Clappers", I think we just got swept away. We took on what was going on around us. And by that time we'd been to a few places, so we didn't have such a narrow view of things, and it had an affect on us, and we changed. We were constantly changing.'12
The Clash undoubtedly benefited from copping an attitude in terms of their refusal to be pigeon-holed when it came to making music, but by adopting a similar stance when it came to ignoring wiser counsel they left themselves open to ridicule. And there was no greater example of this than their insistence on Sandinista! being a triple album.
While it might be just another urban myth, legend has it that upon discovering The Clash were intent on releasing London Calling as a double album, Bruce Springsteen had stormed into Epic's New York offices demanding that he be allowed to follow suit with his own latest album. And that it was upon subsequently hearing Springsteen boasting that his double offering, The River, would put 'those Limeys' in their place that The Clash decided to let Bruce suck on his ego by going one further and releasing a triple album.
Regardless of where the idea for releasing a triple album came from, it should have been disregarded just as quickly. The 1980-era Clash was a far more erudite creature to the one that had come crash, bang, walloping out of the stalls four years earlier, but they weren't so far removed from punk's original ethos to know triple albums reeked of the worst possible excesses of rock; the hitherto reserve of progrockers and other self-absorbed arseholes. To compound their folly, The Clash were equally insistent that Sandinista! be retailed at the same price as a single album.
Blackhill thought the whole idea idiocy incarnate and wasted little time in voicing their opinion. Financial suicide aside, they argued – rightfully – that simply because there were enough songs in the can to warrant a triple album, didn't necessarily mean the songs were worthy of committing to vinyl.
It's easy to pass judgement long after the fact, but the general consensus amongst The Clash cognoscenti is that while Sandinista! would have made a passable double album, it would have made a blinding single. Even, today, some thirty-odd years on, one has to argue that the album has enough padding to warrant it being re-titled Sandbaginista!
Disregarding the sagacious advice of his former mentors at Blackhill, Kosmo headed over to Soho Square to thrash out a deal with CBS on the group's behalf. Surprisingly, Maurice Oberstein consented to the triple… but only on the proviso The Clash agreed to waive royalties on the first 200,000 copies sold in the UK.
Given that London Calling had fallen some 20,000 short of this mooted figure in UK sales, unless it surpassed expectations in America then The Clash would be plunging themselves deeper in debt.
Andrew King and Pete Jenner have always believed CBS had long been chiselling away at The Clash to drop them, but this was the juncture when they realised the futility of trying to oversee the business affairs of four young men who eschewed all forms of authority.
When signing Pink Floyd, King and Jenner had boasted they'd make them 'bigger than The Beatles', and though they were pragmatic enough to accept The Clash were never likely to emulate the unit-shifting potential of the Dave Gilmore-era Pink Floyd, let alone the Fab Four, they had at least formulated a business plan that was beginning to make some headway with the group's crippling £250,000 debt to CBS.
In ploughing ahead with the three-for-one album deal and forgoing their UK royalties, The Clash wilfully holed the Blackhill business plan beneath the waterline.
* * *
* The Frente Sandinista de Liberación Nacional had overthrown Nicaraguan dictator Anastasio Somoza Debayle the previous July, thus forever ending the tyrannical Somoza dynasty. (BACK)
* Despite having roles in films such as Tootsie, Fatal Attraction, King Of Comedy, Cocktail, and Married To The Mob, Foley is perhaps still best known for her duet with Meat Loaf on 'Paradise By The Dashboard Light' from the latter's squillion-selling 1977 album, Bat Out Of Hell (Though Karla DeVito features in the promo video, she is lipsyncing to Foley's vocal). (BACK)
– CHAPTER ELEVEN –
THE REBELS WERE DANCING ON AIR
'I don't worry about making it; I worry about not making it. If I don't make it, then all the kids who are watching can say to themselves, "Well, shit, they didn't make it, they didn't get out. What hope is there for us to make it?" If we make it, then those kids know that they've got a chance too.'
– Mick Jones
IN TERMS OF 'MAKING IT', prior to the release of Sandinista! The Clash could rightfully claim to have seen it, done it, and had the obligatory T-shirt to prove as much. Post Sandinista!, however, it was a different story, and following the mauling the album received at the hands of the music press – with several notable Clash aficionados such as Ian Penman, Nick Kent, and Paul Morley happily adopting an 'et tu, Brutus' stance in twisting the knife – the group retreated from public view to lick their wounded pride.
Mick, perhaps feeling the sting more than the others seeing as he'd been the one to suggest a triple album, fled to New York to be with Ellen Foley. It would prove something of a fillip for his bruised
ego as The Clash's American fan-base tended to be infinitely more AOR orientated than their British counterparts. So much so, that Sandinista! reached a highly respectable #24 on the Billboard chart – three places higher than London Calling had managed. The feat was even more remarkable given that the album retailed for $15, had received little of no promotion from Epic, and the majority of American music lovers were snapping up anything and everything relating to John Lennon following the ex-Beatle's murder four days earlier on 8 December.
Mick had also come in for criticism over the production on Sandinista! so the offer from Ian Hunter for him to join his onetime idol at the Power Station where the ex-Mott The Hoople frontman was recording his latest solo album proved most welcoming. Mick Ronson would be producing the album, but as Hunter had penned 'Theatre Of The Absurd' following a conversation he'd had with Mick about the reggae-rock crossover The Clash had helped bring about.
Following further sessions at Electric Lady, Mick – with Ellen Foley in tow – accompanied Hunter and Ronson back to London and into Wessex Studios where the album was to be completed under Bill Price's tutorship. Hunter would subsequently admit in Campbell Devine's All The Young Dudes that he and Ronson had both been 'lacking in focus' at the time, and were therefore happy to take a back seat. Aside from inspiring two now songs by coaxing Hunter to set two of his poems – 'Central Park 'n' West' and 'Noises' to music, Mick (though uncredited) laid down guitar parts, joined Ellen on backing vocals, and brought in Topper and Tymon Dogg to add drums and violin respectively.
One final input – albeit inadvertently – came with the album title. The initial working title back in New York had been Theatre Of The Absurd,but Mick had playfully renamed the album 'Haircut' owing to Hunter having had his trademark curly locks shorn at a local barbers. When it came time for the finished masters to go to press Ian kept the tonsorial theme in naming the album, Short Back 'n' Sides.
While discussing the album with Campbell Devine, Hunter admitted to being somewhat intimidated by Mick's 'very strong personality in the studio'. Another who saw a different side to Mick during the Wessex sessions was his old friend John Brown. Calling out of the blue after several years of silence, Mick told John how he was looking to put a backing group together for when Ellen went out promoting Spirit Of St Louis sometime in the spring and asked if John was interested in strapping on his bass.
John, of course, already knew Hunter well enough, and with Robin Crocker being an ever-present at Wessex during the sessions Mick not only invited him to come along to the studio, but offered to pick him up en route.
John's wife had recently given birth to their first child, a daughter, and John was naturally cock of the hoop and keen for Mick to meet his new family. The meet and greet didn't go according to plan, however, as Mick walked straight past John, had a quick look around the room, before announcing it was time to go.
The studio reunion didn't live up to John's expectations either, as Mick kept his thoughts and his stash of weed to himself.
There was no one within Mick's immediate sphere that hadn't bore the brunt of his aloofness of late, and if John came away from Wessex that day thinking his old friend needed bringing down a peg or two then his wish was already on the wind.
Things had not been going well for The Clash of late. Not only had CBS pulled the plug on a UK tour to promote Sandinista! but they'd received yet another battering from the critics following the release of 'Hitsville UK', with Ian Penman calling it the group's 'creative nadir' and labelling them 'Third world guerrillas with quiffs'.
Mick simply immersed himself in Hunter's solo album, but Joe didn't have Wessex's walls to hide behind. He knew he was just as much to blame as Mick for the mess The Clash found themselves in, and would trudge the streets racking his brains seeking a solution to their current ills. It was on one of late evening soul searches that the answer seemingly presented itself outside a Wimpy bar in Notting Hill…
Bernard had hardly been idle since parting company with The Clash as his involvement with Subway Sect, the Specials and Dexys Midnight Runners readily testifies. Yet while he was still brimming with ideas, he was also at something of a loose end at the time of his happenstance encounter with Joe and therefore willing to listen to Joe's overtures.
Paul says he fully supported Joe's proposal that Bernard be reinstated – if only because he missed the anarchic environment within which The Clash had existed first time around, while Topper didn't appear to have an opinion one way or the other – despite Bernard having branded him a 'provincial tosser' – just so long as whatever agenda Joe had in mind didn't interfere with his drug-stabbing time.
Mick, of course, was abhorred by the news. 'I could quite easily have walked out then,' he told Paulo Hewitt in 1986. 'But it's like a marriage, or the people you love: you cling on hoping it's going to work out.'
The socialist-minded Joe had always maintained that The Clash was a democracy, but whilst he allowed Paul and Topper an equal say in any decision making, with Mick being his partner in the metaphorical 'marriage' – the McCartney to his Lennon, as it were – there really was only one vote he needed to snag to gain a majority.
Mick may have become a bit of an autocrat in the studio and rehearsal room, but he rarely opposed Joe when it came to Clash policy and yet the mere thought of bringing back the guy who'd tried to oust him from the group stuck in his craw. He was struggling to fathom how Joe could even contemplate the idea, let alone put it to a vote. This was one instance when he was prepared to stand his ground, but Joe pulled the rug out from under his feet by threatening to quit The Clash unless his demand was met. It was a niggardly ultimatum, and Mick could, and perhaps should, have called Joe's bluff by throwing down his own gauntlet – that he would quit if Bernard came back.
Whilst on the road during the Take The Fifth Tour Mick had told Paul Morley that The Clash were everything to him, and that as he had nothing else in his life apart from the group, he'd sort of come to resent The Clash.
Considering Mick was alone in unfamiliar surroundings thousands of miles from home this rare outpouring has to be taken in context because occasional flashes of resentment aside, he loved being in The Clash, and like a disheartened spouse he elected to cling on and hope for the best.
♪♪♪
In order to maximise sales of Sandinista! in the UK, The Clash agreed to CBS' suggestion of releasing an unprecedented third single from the album. The suits at Soho Square were pleased The Clash were proving compliant for once, but they were less thrilled at the group's preferred choice as 'The Magnificent Seven' was some six minutes long, and therefore unlikely to gain much Radio One daytime airplay.
Fearing CBS would disregard their artistic control as they had when releasing 'Remote Control', The Clash put forward a compromise. Taking their lead from the New York rap artists who were bringing in outside DJs to produce twelve-inch extended dance remixes of their songs that were proving a hit in the clubs, they offered to supply an edited version of 'The Magnificent Seven' coupled with a longer instrumental remix which they called 'The Magnificent Dance'.
'"Magnificent Dance" was another signpost to the direction we were going in,' Mick explained. 'We always took on board the music that was happening around us, made it part of our thing.'2
Production was becoming very much Mick's 'thing' around this time as he was invited to oversee the twiddling and the fiddling on Theatre Of Hate's* debut album, Westworld; even coming out front of shop to add guitar parts to several of the songs, including the title track. And yet, somewhat surprisingly, he was absent when it came to the remixing of 'The Magnificent Seven' at Wessex.
Much has been made of the 'Pepe Unidos' production credits on 'The Magnificent Seven', as the mythical Puerto Rican producer, who was also in the chair during the recording and mixing of Cut The Crap, was – according to the sleeve-notes accompanying the 1999 reissue of Super Black Market Clash – a collective consisting of Joe, Paul, and the recently reinstated Bernard. But with his n
ow taking his managerial cut from The Clash's net earnings, rather than their gross income, Bernard was hardly likely to sit in silence and allow The Clash to carry on digging when they were wallowing in a financial hole. If that meant having an equal say in the studio, then so be it.
Mick may have had serious reservations about the situation, but even he had to admit Bernard made an immediate impact upon his return. 'Bernie came back on the scene because people thought we'd gotten out of control,' he subsequently offered. 'The first thing he wanted to do was book us for seven nights in New York.'3
Like the rest of the group, Mick was already disheartened from CBS having refused to finance a UK tour, so when Epic pulled the plug on the proposed sixty-date US tour to promote Sandinista! The Clash were left wondering what their next move – if any – might be. Without label support, Bernard knew touring in the traditional sense was no longer viable, and with this in mind he hit on the idea of the group securing prestigious week-long residencies; not only in New York, but also in other major cities around the world such as London and Paris.