by Mick O'Shea
Bernard has received plenty of kudos for thinking up the 'Clash city residency' plan, but the honour of being the first-ever rockers to set up a Broadway block-booking – as Mick would surely have known – goes to Mott The Hoople who played five consecutive nights at New York's Uris Theatre in May 1974.
Being something of a forward thinker, Bernard knew The Clash well enough to know familiarity rarely bred contempt. Again, with this in mind, he booked the group back into Vanilla Studios, and despatched Baker to seek out Johnny Green – who'd recently returned from Texas – to offer him his old job back.
Finding Johnny proved easy enough, but regardless of the change in management he sensed The Clash had drifted further apart during his absence and politely declined the invitation.
The UK and US tours had foundered on Epic's fiscal reef, but having booked the now-defunct Bond's International Casino on Times Square to serve as the venue for The Clash's week-long residency in New York commencing on 25 May, Bernard put together a month-long European tour – billed as the 'Mission Impossible Tour' – starting in Barcelona on 27 April.
When reminiscing about this period in The Clash, Paul says that Mick – despite Bernard's presence – was still prone to tantrums; one such occasion occurred in Germany when Mick threw his toys out of the pram saying he wasn't prepared to continue with the tour and wanted to go to New York instead.
Jock Scott was another who witnessed Mick's bloody-mindedness first hand. 'We're playing at [the] Real Madrid basketball stadium, a huge gig, loads of punters, and Jonesy would go, "I want egg and chips,"' he explained. 'Everyone would be saying, "Look, we're in Spain, they don't have egg and chips." But Mick would be determined: "I want egg and chips or I'm not doing the gig."'4
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Despite its glamorous name, Bond's International Casino was in fact a discotheque, and the only time money changed ever hands was at the front door. With The Clash having sold out the Palladium at each time of asking, when Bernard and Kosmo visited the city to peruse prospective venues for the residency the local promoters put forward the proposal of the group playing a one-off date at the 16,000 capacity Madison Square Garden. However, with the group having previously refused to play New York again unless they could do so in an unseated venue, Bernard had a set mandate in mind. Bond's, therefore, with its makeshift stage, and a dance floor that could comfortably hold 4000 punters, seemed the perfect choice.
The venue certainly appealed to The Clash as it featured in the opening scenes of Taxi Driver; the 1977 Martin Scorsese film starring Robert De Niro in the lead role of Travis Bickle. Mick was a huge fan of the film, and it seemed as though life was imitating art when Scorsese – a long-time Clash aficionado – invited the group to make a cameo appearance in The King of Comedy, the film he was currently shooting with De Niro in the lead role.
Before setting off for Heathrow The Clash had promised New York to expect 'something special', and come showtime they certainly didn't disappoint. Bounding out onto the stage to Ennio Morricone's '60 Seconds To What?' from For A Few Dollars More, the second film in the Clint Eastwood 'man-with-no-name' Spaghetti Western trilogy, they had the audience eating out of their hand from first note to last during the twenty-six song, two-hour long set.
Triumph, however, would soon turn to fiasco when the city's fire marshals – responding to an anonymous call – arrived the next day to enforce the club's fire safety capacity of 1750 – despite The Ramones and The Plasmatics having both played to 4,000 crowds in recent weeks. Following an emergency summit meeting between Bernard and Kosmo, Bond's management, and fire chiefs, a compromise was reached whereby The Clash agreed to play sixteen shows so that each and every ticket holder would still get to see them play.
The first of the amended shows went according to plan, but the following day the city's building department – having come to the conclusion that Bond's was a disaster waiting to happen – slapped a court order on the club, closing it indefinitely. Of course, by this time, the majority of the 'bridge-and-tunnel' out-of-towners were already en route to the venue for the originally scheduled Saturday matinee. The ticket-holders didn't take the news kindly and chaos ensued as hundreds of irate fans took to the street to bring Times Square to a standstill.
The ensuing media coverage would provide The Clash frontpage headlines around the globe, but at the time the Fire Marshal's enforcement presented Bernard with a very serious problem seeing as Bond's had taken in excess of $250,000 in tickets sales, which prevented The Clash from playing an alternate venue – such as Madison Square Garden – until all the money had been refunded.
Thankfully, the New York Building Commissioner – having been browbeaten into submission by his Clash-loving offspring – put forward a second compromise whereby the rescheduled shows could proceed so long as Bond's beefed up their security, and revised their emergency evacuation procedures.
In spite of the chaos, Mick would have fond memories of the Bonds run. 'We ran this town.' He told reporters when returning to New York with Big Audio Dynamite several years later. 'We took Broadway. De Niro was bringing his kids to see us. The city stopped cos The Clash were in town.'
The Clash had indeed taken New York, but their prolonged stay in the Big Apple only served to heighten Mick's resolve to guide the group's hip-pop direction. As with every other musical craze that caught his ear over the years he threw himself into hip-hop with a passion. Seeing him strutting about town with a beatbox permanently pressed to his ear, and his wearing a baseball cap on back-to-front, the rest of the group took to calling him 'Wack Attack'.
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When The Clash returned to London towards the end of June they were still walking tall from having brought Times square to a standstill, but the mini-riot they'd inadvertently caused outside Bond's Casino was put a scuffle compared to the 'plight riots' that were sporadically breaking out in towns and cities across Britain.
The long-simmering resentment of the unemployed and underprivileged in the inner-cities had first spilled over into violence back in April in Brixton following the stabbing of a black youth. The youth in question had been attacked by three other black youths, but trouble flared following rumours that the youth had been left to die by the policemen responding at the scene. During the ensuing carnage some 300 police officers were injured, and scores of properties and cars were destroyed.
London hadn't witnessed such scenes of carnage since the Gordon Riots of 1780, and the government was quick to react by commissioning Lord Scarman to look into the causes of the riots, as well make recommendations to prevent such occurrences happening again.
In his report, Scarman expressed his concerns with the plight of the ethnic minorities within London and other major inner-cities, and their relationship with the rest of the community. He felt it essential that people be encouraged to have a sense of responsibility for their own area, and called for a policy of 'direct coordinated attack on racial disadvantage.' That further rioting broke out in London, Leeds, Liverpool, Birmingham and Sheffield, and other underprivileged areas was evidence that his concerns went unheeded.
The Clash hadn't played live in their homeland since the previous summer, yet still came under sniper fire from certain quarters over the perceived irony of their giving 'White Riot' repeated airings on Broadway while London was burning. The incongruity especially wasn't lost on Mick, given his long-standing reticence over 'White Riot' still featuring in The Clash live repertoire.
'I don't think I'd make a good rioter. I don't think I even agree with them,' he told the NME's Paul Rambali. 'Destroying your own places, especially when the government ain't gonna give you another one, seems really double dumb. I do my thing, and it's a creative thing, that's how I feel I contribute. And if my absence is conspicuous on these occasions, then I say, "Don't look to me in the first place." I'm not a street-fighting man. I still gotta belief in the power of reason. I think I'd be really stupid to go out and think I could lead the people.'
The one p
erson Mick wished would take his lead on occasion, of course, was Bernard. Having decided the time was right to begin knocking the new song ideas The Clash had been working on throughout the summer – 'Straight To Hell', 'Ghetto Defendant', 'Inoculated City', and 'Know Your Rights' – into shape Mick presumed they'd be returning to New York to begin work on the new album. Bernard, however, had other ideas. Not only did he concur with the criticisms of self-indulgence over the expense and time The Clash had devoted to Sandinista! he was triply determined that any new Clash product would be recorded with minimum fuss and within a set budget.
Mick would succeed in keeping Bernard at bay while he and Jerry Green booked time at Air Studios to work on alternative DJ mixes of The Clash's next intended single, 'This Is Radio Clash' ('Outside Broadcast' and 'Radio 5'), but he was less successful when it came to recording the new album.
When speaking to Rolling Stone in 1986, Mick said how Joe and Paul were sick of Mick 'bringing my New York environment everywhere I went with them.' Bernard was equally exasperated, and had little trouble convincing Joe that the new album be recorded quickly and cheaply to maximise profits. With the argument settled, The Clash moved their gear – along with the Rolling Stones' mobile studio – into Ear Studios, located in the People's Hall on Freston Road, and set within the shadow of the Westway.
Another gnawing bone of contention between Mick and Bernard came over the appointment of Mick's new guitar tech. Shortly after the group's return to London Mick's guitar tech had quit, and Bernard was duly charged with finding a replacement. Mick had repeatedly insisted that he wanted said replacement be a girl, yet while female guitar technicians were something of a rarity within the maledominated rock 'n' roll roadie world, there were several that Bernard could have approached. Instead, however, he purposely hired an exWishbone Ash roadie called Digby Cleaver.
Digby had apparently satisfied Bernard's requirements by professing a liking for the American psychedelic punk outfit, The Cramps, but regardless of whatever capabilities he may have had Mick – albeit initially – took Digby's appointment as a personal affront. He was well within his rights to do so because if Bernard was unwilling to meet him on this seemingly trivial point, then what chance his having his views and opinions on Clash policy respected? It wasn't only Digby's sex that annoyed Mick, but also his waistband-length hair.
The irony wouldn't have been lost on the rest of the group given that Mick's nickname back in the Give 'Em Enough Rope days had been 'Poodle' owing to his own shoulder-length tresses. Joe and Paul simply looked on in amused silence, but Topper took Digby to one side and suggested he take a trip to the barbers if he wanted to remain on the Clash payroll.
As with Rehearsals and Vanilla, Ear Studios was a secluded, out of the way space where The Clash could get to work without the inherent distractions that came with more upmarket studios such as those in New York. There was even a patch of scrub wasteland to the rear of the building where the team-building football matches of Vanilla could be recreated.
Jerry Green's serving as engineer was another reminder of that halcyon period when The Clash were at the creative pinnacle, but any thoughts of inviting Guy Stevens in from the cold again to sprinkle more of his madcap magic over proceedings were scotched when Guy's luck finally run out and he accidentally overdosed on the pills prescribed to combat his chronic alcoholism. As a fitting tribute, The Clash wrote and recorded 'Midnight To Stevens'* as their personal tribute to Guy.
Recording of the as yet untitled new album was put on hold for the second of The Clash's much-vaunted week-long residencies at the Théâtre Mogador in Paris, with the Mighty Wah! (Featuring Mick's future Justice Tonight collaborator, Pete Wylie, on lead vocals), and The Beat providing support.
As with Bond's in New York, the Paris residency was restricted solely to the Théâtre Mogador, but when The Clash hit the stage on the opening night of their third and final magnificent seven-day residency of the year at the Lyceum Ballroom on 18 October, they did so upon the back of a mini-UK tour to promote the forthcoming release of 'This Is Radio Clash'.
In keeping with the new material slowly being stockpiled for the new album, the Lyceum stage (as it had been in Paris) was set to create an 'urban Vietnam' feel with tiger-striped checkpoint barriers. And as he had done in New York and Paris, New York graffiti artist Futura 2000 did his Rolf Harris-esque 'can-you-guess-what-it-is-yet?' aerosol artistry on the huge backdrop while The Clash went about their business.
The British music press were the usual discourteous selves when penning their respective reviews, but the fans – oblivious to both Mick's resentment of Bernard's retaking the managerial reins, and his determination to steer The Clash away from traditional rock 'n' roll into more experimental waters – were happy to pay homage to their homecoming heroes.
True, The Clash were still lagging behind The Jam in the polls, were viewed as yesterday's trend by those courting Spandau Ballet, Duran Duran and the other New Romantics, and were no longer troubling the upper reaches of the UK singles chart, but in the eyes of their hardcore following they could do no wrong.
With the live commitments over for the year, the intention – or so Bernard, Joe, and Paul believed – was to return to Freston Road and pick up where they'd left off writing and recording demos for the new album. Mick, however, had other ideas, and having gotten Topper on side, he played Joe at his own game by refusing to continue with the sessions unless they reconvened to New York.
Mick would later claim to have been joking about the move, and while Pearl Harbor would subsequently play down the supposed rift that his ultimatum caused within The Clash, Mick's further insistence that they record everything again from scratch once they'd moved into Electric Lady in mid-November must have left Joe and Paul wondering how many other hoops they'd have to jump through in order to hear the emperor's new chords?
In hindsight, we know now that the underlying reason for Mick's insistence they record the album in New York was that it allowed him to be closer to Ellen Foley. That their relationship had taken something of a downturn of late is evidenced with Mick having already penned the lyric to 'Should I Stay Or Should I Go?', but his reaction at losing the silver bullet pendant Ellen had given him whilst on stage at the Glasgow Apollo suggests he was hoping their being in the same city again would rekindle the flame.
Despite Mick's churlish insistence that they start from scratch on the new album – tentatively titled 'Rat Patrol From Fort Bragg' – the work rate at Electric Lady was prodigious with 'Rock The Casbah' being completed in a single afternoon. Such was their collective drive that they quickly racked up seventeen songs. Much to Bernard's chagrin, however, rather than 'let the ragas drop', all the new songs were coming in around the six minute mark, which meant The Clash were looking at another double album.
If it can be said that Mick was already on the paradoxical path to becoming the irresistible force to match Joe and Paul's immoveable object in terms of where each wanted to take The Clash, neither party was – at least at this juncture – contemplating a Clash without Topper. Yet that very reality was thrust upon them when Topper – who by his own estimation was spending £100 a day to feed his habit – was caught in possession of heroin at Heathrow in the midst of a foolhardy twenty-four hour mercy-mission stopover in London to deliver some gear to his girlfriend who was facing a cold-turkey Christmas owing to there being a drought in the capital.
With a twenty-five date tour of the Far East – including another seven-date residency at the Capitol Theatre in Sydney – set to get underway with a show at the Shibuya Kohkaido in Tokyo on 24 January, Topper's lawyers used this as the fulcrum of their argument against a custodial sentence when the drummer went before the bench at Uxbridge Magistrates Court on 17 December.
Topper escaped with a £500 fine (coupled with the judge's recommendation that he seek professional help for his addiction), but his conviction would prove problematic for The Clash as a whole. From now on they would suffer the indignity of being sto
pped and searched at airports. For a group that had always been vociferously anti-heroin in public, having to acknowledge they'd been papering over the cracks of their drummer's addiction for some time would have been exasperating.
* * *
* Mick also took the production chair for Theatre Of Hate's follow-up album, Aria Of The Devil, the following year. However, owing to the group's affable frontman Kurt Brandon mislaying the master tapes the album wouldn't see the light of day until 1998. (BACK)
* 'Midnight To Stevens' wouldn't see the light of day until the release of Clash On Broadway in 1991. (BACK)
– CHAPTER TWELVE –
YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND MY POINT OF VIEW
'We always got criticism in The Clash but we always thought "you should be happy. We've gone a long way and it represents what you can do", you know what I mean? We took it all the way to Broadway and that meant something.'
– Mick Jones