Mick Jones: Stayin' In Tune - The Unauthorised Biography

by Mick O'Shea

  THE CLASH RETURNED TO Electric Lady in early January, but whilst New York was still aglow with fading festive cheer, there was little bonhomie inside the studio. Mick could barely stand to be in the studio at the same as Joe, and would usually have laid down his guitar overdubs and disappeared off into the night again before Joe arrived. According to Jerry Green, Mick was also no longer willing to suffer Paul's rudimentary musicianship in the studio, even to the point of bringing in Electric lady's in-house tape-operator Jerry Garcia to play bass on occasion.

  When reflecting on the recording sessions, Mick says that the producer's cap was kind of thrust at him by the others, and that it was his having to try and make some sense out of the 'big sprawling mess' that was responsible for his surly moods.1

  With the clock counting down on the opening date of the Far East tour at the Shibuya Kohkaido in Tokyo on 24 January, Mick was too wrapped up in trying to bring the finished album in on time before hailing a cab to JFK to worry about what effect his highhanded attitude was having on the rest of the group. However, when he proudly presented Joe, Paul, and Topper with his fifteen-track, sixty-five minute masterpiece he received his comeuppance when they collectively dismissed the mix out of hand.

  When speaking about the Rat Patrol… mix with Creem magazine's Bill Holdship in 1984, Joe uncharitably likened it to a 'home movie mix', before going on to opine that he didn't believe anyone can be so great that they didn't occasionally put in a bad shift. 'Mick wouldn't have that,' he continued. 'In his mind, he was a great artist, and great artists don't write crap. It was dangerous. I think Mick's got a tendency to bring yes-men close to him, and shut out people who will tell him the damn truth. Remember, I'm supposed to be his buddy and partner, and I said to him, "Mick, I don't think you can produce." What I meant was that you can't just sit in the chair, move some faders, and claim to be a producer. And it was, "You bastard! I thought you were my friend!"'

  Listening to the Rat Patrol From Fort Bragg bootleg today provides a fascinating insight into what Mick was trying to achieve with the album, but with Topper having sided with Joe and Paul he was reluctantly forced to concede defeat. CBS were already making noises about album being long overdue, and so rather than risk further displeasure The Clash opted to book some studio time in Sydney in the hope of their being able to bring the album in for the label's rescheduled end of April release date.

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  Mick may well have preferred the production chair over the tour bus, but with The Clash never having played anywhere further east than Vienna there was undoubtedly a spring in his step as he set off for the airport: 'It was pretty crazy when we arrived in Japan,' he said. 'It felt very strange – we were chased around like we were The Beatles or something, with lots of screaming and people throwing presents to us. It was beautiful.'2

  The Clash were indeed treated like visiting royalty by the Japanese, and the demand for tickets proved so great that two further dates were added in Osaka and Tokyo before they bid their hosts sayonara and flew to Sydney where they staged a press conference to promote the impending seven night residency at the Capitol Theatre. They then flew on to the New Zealand capital, Auckland, where they experienced the realities of Topper's drug conviction when the equipment was impounded and searched for drugs. As with the Japanese dates, The Clash received a hero's welcome in both New Zealand and Australia. To outward appearances – Joe's onstage collapse from heat exhaustion in Perth aside – the group were solid and giving their all, but away from the stage and the media glare it was a different story.

  Legend has it that Joe had once drawn a metaphorical Alamo-esque line in the sand; the demarcation depicting Mick and Topper as the musicians in the group, while he and Paul were the entertainers. In days gone by when The Clash lived by an 'all-for-one-and-one-for-all' ethic had the allegorical line existed for real it wouldn't have been visible to the naked eye, but in recent weeks it had grown into an impassable chasm.

  Following the penultimate show at the AC Hall in Hong Kong, The Clash flew on to Bangkok where they would be bringing the tour to a close with a show at the Thammasat University. Despite the ever-mounting tension, with the new album brimming with urban [Vietnam]erican vibes The Clash couldn't help but allow their imaginations run wild. 'We went mad in Thailand,' Mick told the NME's James Brown in 1991. 'It was like Apocalypse Now. When you go that far away, it takes a long time to get back. One great thing that happened was we were out in the bars dressed like The Deer Hunter, and they have these girls in the really heavy places dancing on the bar. Joe and Kosmo got up and did the frug on the bar with these girls. When you come back from that, it's hard to get back into normal life. It was a fantastic adventure.'

  Mick's fond memories of The Clash's Far Eastern fling were no doubt coloured by the fact they arrived in Bangkok to find they were sitting at the top of the local hit parade. However, by the time of the NME interview he was pragmatic enough to admit that every visiting western group probably enjoyed a similar status whilst in Thailand. 'I think it's quite corrupt, like the police chief and the guy in charge of the music industry are the same man,' he pondered. 'They don't have real records, just bootleg tapes.'

  Although their having failed to make much progress on the new album whilst in Sydney meant The Clash were still some way away from being able to present a 'real record' to CBS, they were at least unanimous on bringing Pennie Smith (who'd covered the Japanese leg of tour for the NME) over to Bangkok, where they would be bringing the tour to a close with a show at the Thammasat University, to shoot the cover.

  Pennie had barely time to unpack her camera when Bernard inexplicably went Thai boxing, leaving the group without any money. The Clash, of course, were well versed in having empty pockets, but where they would have once found other ways to amuse themselves they now preferred to sit around in brooding silence. Although Pennie got the group to pose by a deserted railway line, she came away again sensing the images she'd captured in her lens were of four individuals who were no longer willing to even fake a show of togetherness. The Clash may have been beyond faking a sense of togetherness for the cameras, but the unity of old came to the fore when Paul was rushed to hospital with a mystery ailment. A couple of days earlier he'd jumped into what appeared to a mud puddle, only to be instantly engulfed by a swarm of flies. Paul had laughed it off at the time, but no one was laughing when the doctors diagnosed a twisted colon and recommended immediate surgery to remove part of his intestine.

  Fearing Paul was dying, the others were seriously contemplating allowing the doctors to wield their scalpel, but thankfully the tour manager went in search of a second opinion. The Swiss doctor he brought in assured them there was nothing wrong with Paul's colon and that he'd merely caught a bug of some kind; the evidence of which came with his making a complete recovery.

  'We had a good time because Paul got hospitalized,' Mick explained in November 2007. 'We all stayed and hung out there for a bit, so we went a little mad. That was one of the best times, I think, where we were really together. 'Strange when you go that far away, you feel differently, and when you go back you're shouting from the top of the houses for a few days before you slump back down. We were really together, even though that was when we were on our way to the end.'3

  Owing to their unexpected prolonged sojourn in Thailand, The Clash returned to London in mid-March no nearer to reaching a compromise over the new album than when they'd left New York. Mick was stubbornly refusing to discuss the situation, but with CBS/ Epic expressing serious concerns about the group releasing another cut-price double album, Bernard called everyone together and – after a show of hands – the decision was made to bring in a seasoned producer to give Mick's Electric Lady mix a serious overhaul; preferably one with previous experience in snatching victory from the jaws of defeat operations, and someone both immune to outside influences and capable of dealing with bruised egos.

  Several names were mooted, but there really was only one candidate that ticked all the boxes �
� Glyn Johns. Aside from boasting a CV that included production credits with the Rolling Stones, The Faces, The Who, and The Beatles, the forty-year-old Glyn had been brought in to perform similar salvage operations with the latter two acts. Though his work on the warring Fab Four's unreleased 1969 Get Back* album would ultimately be deemed a tad too austere, his no-nonsense approach while renovating Pete Townsend's bloated and over-ambitious Lifehouse project into the infinitely more robust Who's Next undoubtedly spared The Who's guitarist from a nervous breakdown.

  Glyn appreciated the hard work Mick had put in on the album, but he too believed it to be too self-indulgent and too drawn out. Given the remit of sorting the wheat from the chaff, Glyn invited Mick and Joe to his home studio in Warnford, West Sussex, and with his being both a strict timekeeper and a teetotaller; he informed them that the sessions would begin at 11 a.m. sharp.

  Joe responded to the call and duly arrived at Glyn's door bright and bushy-tailed the following morning. Such was his enthusiasm that he and Glyn had three remixed tracks in the can by the time Mick deigned them with his presence. Perhaps not surprisingly, Mick didn't think much of the remixes and voiced his opinions. Glyn, of course, had had to put up with the quirks and foibles of Keith Richards, Ronnie Wood, and Keith Moon et al, so while he was politeness personified he let Mick know in no uncertain terms that if he wasn't willing to get there on time then his opinions would count for naught.

  Being truculent in the studio had become second nature to Mick, but Glyn had little truck with discourtesy. The following morning he phoned Joe to tell him that he wasn't prepared to continue working on the album if Mick was going to throw a tantrum at every turn. Joe reportedly blew his top and promised Glyn all would be sorted. True enough, when Mick arrived at the studio some time later that day he did so fully chastised and ready to get to work.

  Over the next three days the Rat Patrol From Fort Bragg suffered near fifty per cent casualties, and once Glyn, Mick and Joe had completed their triangular triage 'Kill Time', 'Walk Evil Walk', and 'The Beautiful People Are Ugly Too' had been given the last rites, while 'First Night Back In London', and 'Cool Confusion' were sent back behind the lines and placed in reserve. Nor did the remaining twelve tracks come away unscathed as 'Straight To Hell', 'Red Angel Dragnet', 'Ghetto Defendant', and 'Sean Flynn' all underwent major surgery in keeping with the snappy new title Joe had decided upon, Combat Rock.

  When speaking about the possibility of his Rat Patrol… mix receiving an official release in November 2007, Mick had the grace to admit Glyn John's mix was better. 'It was painful at the time for me to admit that it was, but in the end it turned out fine, and no one remembers all the little finicky bits,' he revealed. 'It was a little bit more of a contemporary, "what-was-going-on-at-the-time-type of thing", but the end record turned out to be a more lasting record, I think.'4

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  On 23 April, CBS released 'Know Your Rights' b/w 'First Night Back In London' as the opening salvo from the forthcoming Combat Rock which was set to follow the single into the shops on 14 May. Keeping with tradition, The Clash arranged a corresponding nineteen-date UK tour starting in Aberdeen on Monday, 26 April, and knuckled down to some serious rehearsals ahead of it. However, five days prior to the Aberdeen date Joe suddenly went missing.

  Mick, Paul, and Topper were completely in the dark as to why Joe would abandon his post, but his going AWOL left them with little option but to postpone the opening dates of the tour while they awaited news of their frontman.

  It was a plotline worthy of Agatha Christie, and like all mystery thrillers the tale had a cunning arch villain in plain view to the audience throughout…

  Worried about poor advance ticket sales for the opening dates of the tour, Bernard suggested Joe slip off the grid for a few days by visiting Joe Ely in Texas, but not tell anybody where he was going. Joe knew Bernard was worrying unnecessarily over the advance ticket sales as The Clash could always rely on a big walk up on the night – i.e. fans turning up at the venue cash-in-hand – but went along with the scam regardless.

  However, somewhere betwixt his leaving Bernard and going home to pack a bag Joe decided to add a further twist to the storyline, and instead of flying out to Texas, he booked seats for him and his partner Gabby on the next available boat train to Paris.

  With Epic having booked two month-long US tours to promote the album stateside, Joe's genuine disappearance not only threw The Clash's tour diary into confusion, but threatened their very existence. It was going to cost a pretty enough penny settling the cancellation fees for the UK tour dates, but American promoters wouldn't be quite so magnanimous, and should they elect to enforce the cancellation penalties set within the contractual terms and conditions The Clash would incur such debts they would have little option but to cease trading.

  The Clash were also set to headline the Lochem Festival in Holland on Thursday, 20 May, having secured a 'not-to-be-sniffed-at' $75,000 fee plus expenses, and the festival's promoter Frank Zanhorn was also left pondering his options when ticket sales for the festival dropped dramatically in the wake of the announcement of Joe's vanishing act in the NME.

  Joe was no doubt aware of the potential consequences of his actions yet although he was thoughtful enough to let certain people, such as his mum and CBS' Kit Buckler, know he was alive and well he chose to remain in Paris playing catch-me-if-you-can.

  Although he was hardly inconspicuous given that he participated in the Paris marathon, it was only owing to a Dutch journalist friend of Zanhorn's (who was supposedly unaware of the furore surrounding Joe's disappearance) mentioning his having happened upon The Clash frontman in a Paris bar a few days earlier that a very much relieved Kosmo was finally able to run Joe to ground.

  Though Joe was back in time for The Clash to honour their commitments at the Lochem Festival, within days of their return to London Clash fans everywhere were rocked with the news that Topper had quit the group over 'a difference of opinion over the political direction the [Clash] will be taking.'

  Eager for a chance to give their version of the tumultuous events of recent weeks, Mick, Joe, and Paul accepted an invitation from the NME's Charles Shaar Murray – yes, the same Charles Shaar Murray that had suggested The Clash be returned to the garage with the motor running whilst reviewing The Clash five years earlier – to share a pot of coffee at a Portobello Road café.

  Having sat patiently while Joe cobbled together a couple of philosophical clichés such as the need to prove to himself that he was a human being rather than a robot, as a means of rationalising his Lord Lucan act, Murray naturally wanted to know whether Mick and Paul had adopted a similar stoical approach to their singer's Parisian pilgrimage.

  'Well, I felt that anything he [Joe] does is alright,' Mick responded with a shrug, before going on to contradict the general conception within the Clash camp that Mick no longer cared for touring by saying he was disappointed that they'd had to postpone the UK tour. 'I felt sure that he had a good reason, and he's such an extraordinary person that it was fine; we could handle it. Hold the fort is what we did.'

  When Murray enquired as to the reasons for Topper's surprise departure, Mick, Joe and Paul abided by The Clash's official communiqué – that appeared within the same 29 May issue as the interview – by saying it had been Topper's decision in that he'd wanted to 'strike out in another direction' having supposedly tired of adhering to The Clash's party political line.

  In terms of 'worst kept secrets', Topper's spiralling addiction has to rank alongside the British government's insistence it knew nothing about Argentina's plans to invade the Falkland Islands* until the Bandera Oficial de Ceremonia was flying over Port Stanley, but Murray was gracious enough to ignore the elephant sitting in the corner.

  Whilst raking over the coals of Topper's sacking in The Clash (during which Mick was conspicuously silent), Joe hit the nail squarely on the head in saying that it was pointless trying to pretend that he, Mick, and Paul could mask Topper's failings either on
stage or in the studio because with their drummer falling apart everything else would indeed 'fall apart like a house without any foundations.'

  By his own admission, Topper says he was completely off his gourd during the Far East tour, but even then, Mick was seemingly prepared to soldier on, clinging to the hope that he'd experience a Damascene revelation and drag himself back from the edge. The realisation that he was – as indeed were Joe and Paul – chasing a Chinese rocksinfused chimera came at the Lochem Festival.

  Prior to going out on stage Joe was in the dressing room doing some last-minute preening in the full-length mirror when Topper came bursting in, grabbed the mirror and began chopping out several lines of cocaine… and he wasn't for sharing.

  With the opening date of the Casbah Club USA Tour in New Jersey a little over a week away, The Clash knew they could no longer keep ignoring what was going on under their drummer's nose. Immediately upon the group's return to London an emergency meeting was convened at Paul's flat in Oxford Gardens where Topper was given the news. In typical fashion, however, rather than sack Topper straight off, he was informed he was being temporarily suspended (the media would be told Topper was suffering from nervous exhaustion), but that if he managed to clean up his act by the time they came off the road after the second leg of the US tour then he would be welcomed back with open arms.