JONES IN VAIN PARTI INTERVIEWED BY DUNCAN CAMPBELL

Rip It Up, Issue 55, 1 February 1982, Page 12

JONES IN VAIN PARTI INTERVIEWED BY DUNCAN CAMPBELL

Nobody really knew what to expect of the Clash. The British music press had recently tagged them as boring, a description you'd never expect. Scathing reviews talked of meandering, pointless dub sessions. And of course, Sandinista!, a vastlyunderrated album, was attacked without mercy. Were we going to see a once great band in its death throes? Like hell we were. Even the time-warp punks present could

hardly have complained. The Clash were monstrous, raw and robust. Mature they may be, by their own standards, but you could never call them sophisticated. The sound is only just the right side of a shambles. So who cares if a string busts? You've still got five more to work with. If your voice goes, what the hell. As long as you can still say something. This simplicity is

refreshing after the overdose of high-technology bands we've had lately. The Clash transcend mere entertainment. Watching Joe Strummer, you wonder how he's lived so long. He's from the Keith Richards' over-the-top school. Just when you think he's going to pass out, he bounces back. He stares down the audience, a face of fury, slashing out rudimentary chords on his battered guitar, talking to people,

demanding more light so he can see them. At times he gets dangerously close to a crowd, but then that's probably essential for a man so full of nervous tension. Mick Jones is a poseur, loving his stage role, as though he's always waiting to be photographed. But without him, things would collapse. Strummer can wander off, get tangled up in

the leads, throw his guitar away, blow his vocals, and Jones will be there to hold things together. The glamour and the control. Paul Simonon is the meanest, toughest-looking guy alive. A long streak dressed in black, hair slicked and bass slung low. A gunslinger. A master of the art of cool. Behind his traps, little Topper Headon is a working man. Always present, never losing his place. A backroom boy, and therefore vital. When he stands up, he gets his cheer. Nobody forgets him. A show that touches all bases. How can you fail to be won over? In the first few minutes, you get 'London Calling', 'One More Time', 'Safe European Home' and Train In Vain'. Then Simonon swaps instruments with Strummer to take the lead on 'The Guns Of Brixton', a showstopper. Back-projected slides enhance the band's political stance for 'The Magnificent Seven', 'lvan Meets GI Joe' and the new single, 'Radio Clash',

which makes all the more sense performed live. And then you've got nearly 45 minutes more, with the pace ever-building, through 'Janie Jones', 'Clampdown', 'Jimmy Jazz', 'Somebody Got Murdered', 'Tommy Gun', 'l'm So Bored With The USA', 'Clash City Rockers', 'I Fought The Law', and a finale of 'White Riot'. Hell, I forgot, 'Career Opportunities' was in there somewhere too. And Bank Robber', and 'Brand New Cadillac', and ...

Got your money's worth, then? I didn't hear any complaints. This was not, however, a typical Clash show, as Mick Jones confirms the next day. The Clash were assailed with calls to play old stuff'. Forewarned, they were able to oblige. "Joe placed the audience at somewhere around 1978, which was very astute of him," says Jones. "We haven't done a show like that for quite a while. It was quite a varied show, we crossed the whole span, and the bloody ocean." Did you enjoy it? Yes, I did. I found the audience was really receptive. We came to play, they came to dance, and I hope they enjoyed it. Otherwise, it sort of negates our use." Such offhand remarks are commonplace. Consciously or unconsciously, Mick Jones always seems to be taking the piss. His cockiness borders on arrogance, but it's an integral part of his personality. The defence mechanism of a downtrodden class of people, something we Antipodeans cannot begin to understand. One of RlU's expatriate Englishmen later describes Jones as 'a typical Cockney'. Mick Jones also wears his image like a medal, from his carefully deranged hair, pointed white loafers and baggy, highwaisted trousers with thin black braces, to his shapeless multicoloured shirt with the sleeves torn off at the armpits "cos they used to get caught in things." All bought second hand, of course. Jones loves old clothes. He is rebel chic personified. A working class hero is something to be ... (John Lennon) The Clash have produced four markedly different albums in their six-year career. Their first stands as a champion of the punk genre, brash and naive when heard in retrospect. The gut feelings of angry young men, and thus a work of overwhelming honesty. Give 'Em Enough Rope, by comparison, seemed more of a triumph for American producer Sandy Pearlman, at the band's expense. Would it have been the same album without him?

"No, it wouldn't," says Jones. "He's quite an interesting character, bizarre, but not too bad a fella. I know we've said a lot of awful things about him in the past, but it's only because he used to sit writing swastikas on his notepad at the time.

"He's very organised. It probably would have taken a little bit less time to make if Sandy hadn't been around. He's very precise about what he wants. We let him have a fair whack at it. I think the songs are actually better than the record. I must admit it's my least favourite. But the songs are good, and I think the record is quite underrated."

Rope came uncomfortably close to heavy metal, given Pearlman's link with the Blue Oyster Cult. London Calling was a far better representation of the band's sound, and a, major refinement, where their musical skills came of age. At the controls this time was the late, legendary Guy Stevens.

"He was a genius," says Jones, "one of the true brilliant men of our time. He was also an alcoholic, which I suppose was his balancing factor. It kept him under control. In his time, he was brilliant. He introduced a lot of black music to England, he invented groups, he came up with the title of 'A Whiter Shade Of Pale', which was never known at the time. He was one of the wild people." Jones says London Calling was "dead easy" to make. The vast difference from the first two albums was, to him, a natural progression. Its maturity surprised most punters, but then the Clash always seem to be a step ahead of them. Sandinista! was an album that just grew into a monster, because of the wealth of material available. "When we finished it, we felt like we'd done something. We decided it was going to be three records, and it was going to be all the stuff that we liked. There was some stuff we left off." The same thing happened with London Calling. Somewhere in a vault lies a recording of the Clash doing Bob Dylan's 'Pat Garrett and Billy The Kid', which was discarded from those sessions. Clash basement tapes, anyone? A feature of Sandinista! was its experimental nature, from the gospel of 'The Sound Of Sinners', to the bluesy jazz of Mose Allison's 'Look Here'. According to Jones, the latter number was done in the spirit of the Who and the Yardbirds, both of whom recorded Mose Allison songs. "I think it was Jerry Lieber (Lieber and Stoller) who said that a style was created by its limitations. I think what we've done is put it all together into one style, a Clash style. It's an indication of our freedom in music, as opposed to captivity of music." Triple albums are considered a dead loss commercially these days, especially when the makers insist on selling them at bargain basement prices. Did the record company scream about Sandinista!? "Something like that. Let's put it this way, if we'd been a Japanese group, all the record company executives would have killed themselves." The Clash have discovered self-discipline since then, and the next Clash album will be a single disc. There'll also be want Jones terms 'a surprise', but he refuses to elaborate. The new single, 'Radio Clash', is a logical extension of tracks like 'The Magnificent Seven', but don't regard that as an indicator of what's to come. Jones says the album will be very danceable, and the opening track will be entitled 'Straight To Hell'. Beyond that, it's wait and see. Another unusual facet of Sandinista! was the remaking of 'Career Opportunities' and 'The Guns Of Brixton', sung by children. They were the children of keyboards player Mickey Gallagher, though you'll hear Jones in there somewhere too. Was that just for a giggle? "In the case of 'Career Opportunities', I like the idea of updating songs. We put it in the mouths of the children, where it belongs. We didn't have to teach them the song, they already knew it." In the next issue of RIU, Mick Jones airs his views on global politics, New Zealand, racism and street violence. Why was he bored with the USA, before he's even been there? All will be revealed.