Gary Crowley 3:17 --- Gary Crowley on BBC London, 94.9. I can't tell you how much I've been looking forward to this. But first of all, let me say thank you to Tom Watt for the past few hours. Sport returns tomorrow afternoon here on BBC London 94.9 between four and six, with all the news from Arsenal vs Charlton, plus the rest of the day’s sport as well. But that was The Clash. That was London Calling from 1979 and we’re saluting one of the all-time great London bands for the next two hours. And keeping me company, I'm extremely pleased to say, are Mick Jones and Paul Simonon. Welcome to both of you. How you doing?

Mick Jones Paul Simonon 3:50 --- All right, great. We're fine. Yeah, good.

We kicked off there with London Calling, one of the great sort of London songs. I just wondered if there was any sort of memories that kind of sort of spring to mind, perhaps about the writing of that, or maybe the recording as well.

Paul Simonon 4:04 --- Well, I was gonna say, I remember distinctly when we made the video, that after the video, one of our guys, Johnny Green, he chucked all our equipment in the Thames.

Gary Crowley 4:18 --- Because the video was filmed down on the Thames. Was it on a pontoon or a jet—

Mick Jones 4:22 --- Festival Pier, or Battersea Park. It was originally built in for the Festival of Britain.

Gary Crowley 4:29 --- Back in the 50s?

Mick Jones 4:30 --- Yeah, I think it was where the Queen arrived—erm, got off here, right?

Gary Crowley 4:37 --- Because that, of course, was directed—the video—by Don Letts, yeah?

Paul Simonon 4:42 --- That's it. Who actually just got a Grammy for his Westway to the World documentary.

Speaker 1 4:48 --- Really? Yeah, excellent, excellent. Well, let's talk a little bit about, you know, what's been happening. I mean, the last time that I saw you two guys was a couple of weeks ago, at the NME Brat Awards, where The Clash were honored with the Godlike Genius Award. I mean, I just sort of wondered what that kind of sort of meant—

Paul Simonon 5:06 --- I thought it was Sodlike Genius, and I was thinking, “God, well, people have had to put up with a sod like me.”

Mick Jones 5:13 --- Boblike Genius.

Gary Crowley 5:17 --- But seriously, what did that sort of mean to you? I mean, you sort of spoke about, you know, the NME, Mick, and what that sort of, you know, meant—

Mick Jones 5:23 --- Specifically picked on the writers when I was, like, really young, you know. I mean, when the writers—it was a very exciting time before punk. That was what I really was saying, you know? I mean, because when I was very young, used to, like, go on Wednesday afternoon, because we knew that it came out on Wednesday before it was officially out on Thursday. But everybody used to read it on Wednesday, yeah. It's just the way we used to, like, kind of like, take it all in, you know? It was a big moment, wasn't it? Exactly. You know, and a brochure, yeah—

Paul Simonon 5:58 --- You was very full of praise. And I thought you did it so you wouldn't get a bed with you in your life.

Mick Jones 6:03 --- You know, there's always nothing wrong with greasing away.

Gary Crowley 6:10 --- But the funny thing was, was that, you know, Mick kind of sort of name-checked a lot of these sort of favorite writers. And I think one of them was, of course, who I think you mentioned, was Charles Shaar Murray, yes? Well, go on, Paul. You pick up the story there, just for those who don't know.

Paul Simonon 6:23 --- Mick was praising them in the NME, and I just sort of—hang on a minute, what? Yeah, well, it was like, “But wasn’t it Charles Shaar Murray that said that garage band called The Clash should be returned to the garage with the engines left running?” Anyway, just to remind them that, you know, we haven’t forgotten.

Mick Jones 6:44 --- You know, there’s a lot of writers I didn’t mention, but I really feel that I should have done, in the way it’s been, like, received since, you know? I mean, I didn’t mention Tony and Julie—really important part of it as well. But I was, like, actually trying to talk about the bit before, when all the young guns came in, yeah? Because—

Gary Crowley 7:04 --- Of course, Tony did that interview that was given away with the NME Free Record—Listen EP, I think it was?

Mick Jones 7:14 --- Yeah, we all went into a photo booth at King’s Cross Station and did a line of speed, and then we went round the Circle Line, just like jabbering for life.

Paul Simonon 7:23 --- Well, I seem to recall both of you were doing the jabbering.

Mick Jones 7:29 --- I hate the both of you. That’s what I remember.

Gary Crowley 7:33 --- Well, of course, I mean, you know, a couple of weeks—in fact, a couple of days, I should say—prior to Christmas, that saw the passing of your friend and fellow band member, Joe Strummer. I mean, I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve all been going through—you know, the Clash family. How have you sort of been bearing up? I mean, has it kind of sunk in?

Paul Simonon 7:54 --- I mean, the thing is, is that, you know, emotionally, it’s like somebody really getting hold of your heart and giving it a good squeeze. It’s like—really, the reality is—we’ve just had to get on with it, you know. And that’s how life is. You just got to pick up the pieces and keep going.

Mick Jones 8:12 --- You know, it’s like—it’s a case of carrying on. And I don’t really know, I don’t think there’s words to describe probably how we’re feeling. We’re just trying to deal with it.

Gary Crowley 8:22 --- Can you tell me what influence he was on both of you as well? I know that’s a difficult question—you went through so much together—but can you sort of—

Paul Simonon 8:34 --- I’d say passion, really. You know, Joe was the sort of person who would get really passionate about an idea and would go follow that route like a million miles per hour. And then somebody would say, “Hey, but what about this?” and he’d go, “Yes, you’re right,” and then go a million miles in that direction. So I think we were fortunate, really, because as a team, we all complemented each other in various ways.

Mick Jones 9:02 --- I remember that we were in Glasgow once, and we were very particular that everybody should be able to come to our shows. We were playing a student show, and we were saying to people, “Yeah, no, it’s all right, you can come.” And then we found out that it was only for students, only in Glasgow. And then Joe, just at that point, said—got on the back of this mate’s motorbike and said, “Come on, we’re going down there, right?” And he went down there and said, “Look, if you’re not going to let everybody come in, we’re not going to do the show.”

Paul Simonon 9:34 --- Didn’t he go in as marking up that he wasn’t a student? He went in to sort of pretend he was a Peter or something. And they wouldn’t give in—

Gary Crowley 9:42 --- I remember—

Mick Jones 9:42 --- “All right, well, the show’s off then.”

Gary Crowley 9:46 --- Well, I remember—I mean, just to let the listener know—the first time that I met you guys was through Joe. I used to go to school just off Edgeware Road, to a school called Rutherford School, and, you know, fired by punk, we turned our school magazine into a fanzine.

Cut a long story short, I remember being on a school lunch break and seeing Joe leave the Metropolitan Café on Edgeware Road, which I think was a favourite port of call of his. I couldn’t believe it—chucked the chips on the floor, went running over: “We’re doing this fanzine, would love to interview you.” And he said, “Well, come down to rehearsals the following day.”

And of course, the word got round school like wildfire. It was just going to be me and a guy who was going to take the pictures, but I think about half a dozen of us turned up. And I’ll always remember Rodent, your roadie, being there when we arrived—because I don’t think you guys had arrived by that time—and what did he say? He said, “What’s this, an effing school trip?” You know, we sort of didn’t take much notice, and we hung around and we did that interview.

And then I remember Joe said—because I think you guys were playing the old Finsbury Park Rainbow for the second time then—and he got about five of us in. We were just hanging around by the stage door, and then you guys pulled up and got us all in and everything. So... but I want to talk a little bit more about that and about your relationship with your fans, because I think it was so unique. It was so, so special.

Let’s play a track though—and I think, Mick, maybe you might be able to tell us a little bit about the kind of influence that you and Joe had on each other, as far as the songwriting was concerned. Because I’m going to play “I’m So Bored with the USA”, but it didn’t start life like that, did it?

Mick Jones 11:38 --- Well, I don’t know about that, but it was a kind of generic song at that point, you know? It’s I’m So Bored with You, and Joe kind of misheard and thought it was I’m So Bored with U.S.A., and that’s great, you know? And so it was like that little bit—it wasn’t very much—it was only an “S” and an “A”, but it made all the difference.

Gary Crowley 14:21 --- BBC London 94.9, it’s a Clash special. We’re celebrating the release of this new best-of, The Essential Clash, which is released Monday week. And Mick Jones and Paul Simonon from the band are my very special guests.

From the band’s debut album from all those years ago in 1977, that was “I’m So Bored with the USA.” Before we talk about the recording of that album as well, just for people perhaps who are listening to this who don’t know the story—can you remind us how this all sort of started? I mean, you two knew each other before you knew Joe, didn’t you?

Paul Simonon 14:52 --- That’s right. Well, the story is that Mick was at this art college in Hammersmith, and I was at an art college in—not Neal Gate, and we sort of met by mistake, really. Because this friend of mine was a drummer, and he said, “Oh, I’m going down to this rehearsal—do you want to come along to back me up?”

So I turned up with him, and when I arrived in the room, there was Mick, Tony James, Brian James, and Bernie Rhodes, and my mate tried out for the drums. And for some unknown reason, they said to me, “Are you a singer?” I said, “No, I’ve just come to back my mate up.” So they sort of said, “Well, do you want to try some singing?” And I gave it a go, but I was so unfamiliar with the songs that they wanted me to sing—

Gary Crowley 15:34 --- Jonathan Richman’s “Roadrunner.”

Paul Simonon 15:35 --- And, well, I’d never heard of that.

Gary Crowley 15:37 --- They asked you to—

Paul Simonon 15:38 --- If it was a reggae track, I would have said, “Yeah, I know that one. I’ll have a go, play,” you know? But unfortunately, not. And the result was, I was never asked back. And then I ran into Mick in a pub in Ladbroke Grove, Portobello Road, with Steve Jones and Glen Matlock. And I don’t know—we just started hanging out together, really.

Mick Jones 16:01 --- I remember Steve was, like, he’s having a drink, right? And he was pinned against the bar as well at the time.

Gary Crowley 16:09 --- Lovely. I mean, I understand that you two kind of met each other, and you were kind of—I mean, I think the band that you initially were in was a band called London SS for a while?

Paul Simonon 16:19 --- Yeah—Mick, yeah. I wasn’t in the band.

Gary Crowley 16:21 --- Oh, you weren’t?

Paul Simonon 16:21 --- No, I just turned up with my mate. But history books apparently say, you know, that I was in London SS—right? You know I wasn’t.

Gary Crowley 16:30 --- Right, well, I understand that the Lister Grove Dole Office loomed large as far as Joe coming into—

Mick Jones 16:38 --- The months from Paul and I were together—

Paul Simonon 16:41 --- We were working together. We’d been trying out people and drummers and all sorts of stuff. And then when we—

Mick Jones 16:46 --- He looked so good, you see, that it didn’t matter... at that time. You’ve got to imagine—it was like, really, people didn’t look like that.

Paul Simonon 16:54 --- You know, they still don’t.

Gary Crowley 16:59 --- So how did Joe come into the frame there, Mick? And I mentioned the Lister Grove—I mean, you guys had already seen the 101ers?

Mick Jones 17:05 --- We’d—yeah, I’d seen them many times. You know, they used to play across the road in the pub across the road from my flat—the Windsor Castle sometimes. But we’d been all over to see them.

Paul Simonon 17:16 --- Yeah, we remember the Red Cow. We saw them play there, and that was a strange affair because it was like a large barn, and there was Joe on stage—

Mick Jones 17:26 --- Well, it’s the Red Cow, that’s why.

Paul Simonon 17:30 --- And there’s, like, dogs roaming around the stage. There’s hippies. And it was like—they were sort of one of the top pub rock groups of the time. And we thought—well, we were really impressed by Joe and his performance. And we were looking for a singer.

And we had discussions with Bernie, and Bernie spoke to Joe, and Joe was aware of us because we ran into each other on Golborne Road, and as you say, the Dole Office in Lister Grove. And Bernie said to Joe, “I’m forming this new group that’s going to rival the Sex Pistols—are you in?” And Joe said, “Oh, I need to think about it.” So Bernie said, “Well, I’ll give you 48 hours to think about it.”

And then after 24 hours, Bernie phoned Joe up and said, “Forget about the other 24 hours. Tell me now.” And Joe said, “I’m in.” Then brought him round to Davis Road in Shepherd’s Bush to meet us. And that’s when we started rehearsing—and that’s when Joe realised I’d never played before.

Mick Jones 18:26 --- As you were saying, previously to that we’d seen each other in the dole office a few weeks before that or something. That’s it—he was in the queue over there, and we were in the queue over here, and we were sort of like looking at him, but we were sort of in awe. He thought we wanted to turn him over. He thought he was gonna have trouble.

Paul Simonon 18:50 --- Well, didn’t he say in the documentary that he thought, “Well, I’ll hit you first, and then leg it”?

Mick Jones 18:54 --- I get a lot of people hitting me and that.

Gary Crowley 18:57 --- Well, he thought, didn’t he—Mr. Weedy, the two?

Mick Jones 19:02 --- Well, yeah, it was fairly true. You know, there’s a bit more.

Paul Simonon 19:05 --- I’m quite a good runner. I wouldn’t have caught him anyway.

Gary Crowley 19:08 --- I mean, you mentioned Bernie, and I’m about to play “Complete Control”, which is going to take us up to news and travel. Can you kind of sum up for me what his influence was on the band? Because it was more than just another manager.

Paul Simonon 19:25 --- Was, yeah. Bernie—I mean, was first of all very important to the whole punk scene. For example, he’s the one who got John Rotten in the Pistols and did it—

Gary Crowley 19:34 --- I didn’t know that.

Paul Simonon 19:35 --- Yeah, he worked with Malcolm, and you know, essentially Bernie had this sort of vision, and we were part of that vision. I mean, before we even played a note, we used to have sort of political discussions, and it was sort of like boot camp, really.

Mick Jones 19:52 --- Also, we weren’t allowed to rehearse until we’d painted the studio. We had to paint the studio first before we could even play a note.

Gary Crowley 20:00 --- This is the studios over in town—Rehearsal Rehearsals—which had a very, very impressive mural from... from you could self there—

Paul Simonon 20:08 --- Yeah, I had... But just to add to the story—it’s great, because we had to do so much painting, it did partly arrive with the... because when we first—because Bernie said, “You’ve got to get a look together, Paul,” and because that was my department—the art side of things, as well as trying to learn how to play bass—and so the paint dripping on clothes did sort of inspire a moment: “Oh well, this is a bit like Jackson Pollock.”

And it all led on from there. So we had the paint-splattered clothes. But to give credit where it’s due—Glenn Matlock actually did start off that thing himself. But the thing is, when I looked at it, they looked like Laura Ashley trousers then. So I took it to stage further and gave it a bit of meat to it. And anyway, it became our look in the beginning.

Gary Crowley 20:55 --- Well, let’s play “Complete Control”. And that’s a title that was inspired by something Bernie actually said.

Mick Jones 21:01 --- Yeah, Bernie always wanted complete control, you know.

Paul Simonon 21:04 --- We just started laughing, really. We just laughed.

Mick Jones 21:08 --- But there you go. Let’s hear it.

Gary Crowley 27:47 --- BBC London 94.9, it’s a Clash special. I hope you’re enjoying the music and also the chat. Mick Jones and Paul Simonon are my very special guests. And getting us under starter’s orders for the second half of the first half of the programme—The Clash single from 1978: “White Man in Hammersmith Palais.”

Any memories about the recording, or perhaps the writing of that one, boys? Because, you know, very sort of different-sounding single for its time, wasn’t it? Kind of saw you guys changing gear a little bit.

Mick Jones 28:16 --- I think we knew we’d done something when we did it.

Paul Simonon 28:19 --- Yeah, it had a sort of poetic lilt to it. That sort... I know it’s a real—you know, in fact, I think it’s like a girl called Palmolive, who was the drummer with The Slits—she said, “Oh, I like that song because it’s got that sad note in it.” And I don’t know, it does have that sort of emotive quality. Probably it’s a minor chord, which is probably from your camp, could possibly be—

Gary Crowley 28:43 --- Over to you, I mean... But the actual inspiration for the lyrics, though, came from a late-night sort of reggae dance that went on...

Mick Jones 28:54 --- Yeah.

Paul Simonon 28:55 --- Don Letts took Joe to... with Leo Williams, to Hammersmith Palais to check out some sounds. And pretty much it’s sort of—it’s Joe’s experience of that, plus many other angles. But yeah, it’s about his experience of going there.

Gary Crowley 29:15 --- Well, let’s talk about the music and everything that went into the melting pot—the heated melting pot that was The Clash as well. Because, you know, I mean, it was reggae, it was punk... I mean, Joe was sort of bringing his love of R&B as well. I mean, as far as the inspiration for the band—what kind of bands, what kind of records are we talking about that inspired you lot to want to do this?

Mick Jones 29:38 --- Well, I mean, quite diverse—very diverse, really. We brought different things to the table. You could go from as far from Anthony Newley to Billy Fury, to Big Youth, to Lee “Scratch” Perry, to—you know, exactly. One of the people at our soundcheck would play Bo Diddley, Pop Goes the Weasel—that I didn’t know, right? Anthony...

Last night I went to see the Sex Pistols and the Clash (formerly the 101’ers) for the first time. I was very, very disappointed. Both bands were crap. It’s enough to turn you on to Demis Roussos.

There is currently far too much publicity being given to pub bands by the music press. The Clash were just a cacophonous barrage of noise. The bass guitarist had no idea how to play the instrument and even had to get another band member to tune it for him. They attempted to play early ’60s R&B and failed dismally. Dr. Feelgood are not one of my favourite bands, but I know they could have wiped the floor with the Clash.

The Sex Pistols, despite having the weirdest bunch of followers in the audience (and what a set of freaks they were), were even worse. John Rotten really lived up to his name—I’ve heard Mickey Mouse sing better. The rest of the band were average musicians, but all the material sounded exactly the same.

At the end, Rotten stayed on stage and shouted at the audience. One of his comments summed it all up:

“We were great, and you know it. We must have been—we're from London, and any band from London is great.”

Pathetic. Just pathetic.

Yours sincerely, A Real Music Lover, Sheffield

SEX PISTOLS AT THE BLACK SWAN, SHEFFIELD

4th July 1976, Exclusive God Save The Sex Pistols Interview February 2011

Pistols fanatic Mick Anyon interviews television engineer Lindsay Smith, a young punk of 25 years old at the time, regarding his memory of one Sunday evening in the summer of ’76.

Back in 1976 the pub/rock venue was known as the Black Swan (aka The Mucky Duck) and on the 4th July that year it hosted a couple of bands who north of Watford were relatively unknown to the masses, although one of them was beginning to have an impact.

PHOTO: Lindsay Smith (left) and Mick Anyon

Mick: Do you recall what you were doing that day and what possessed you to see this band?

Lindsay: It was just a normal Sunday and I had seen the advert in The Star (local press) that said that the band was appearing at the Black Swan and I decided to check them out. They hadn’t toured and it was nice to see they were up this way. Normally bands like that would be booked by enthusiasts.

What kind of reception did they receive that evening?

A pretty muted reception ‘cos there were very few people there. I would’ve said there were maybe forty people there and that includes the bands entourage, ya’ know, people that came with the band.

I’d read that there were some Teds there.

I can’t recall that there were some Teds. There were mainly just music fans, people that I’d seen around town. There were a few people that’d obviously come up with the band, ya’ know ‘cos we could hear a few London accents around. This guy who was stood next to me admired my t-shirt ‘cos I’d got an Iggy and the Stooges t-shirt. That was Glen Matlock because I asked him who the band was that was playing as I walked in and that was The Clash. That’s a bit murky because I hadn’t heard of The Clash at the time but heard about them later. Apparently the Pistols brought them with them so inadvertently I saw The Clash’s first gig but I’d gone to see the Pistols. I’m not sure whether the first single was out at that point. I wasn’t familiar with all the music but I knew what they sounded like. The album wasn’t out but they played quite a few tunes that later were on the album. They were everything I thought they would be.

What was the dress code of people in the audience?

There were no punks at the time. By that time I’d had my hair cut. A little bit short and chopped up hair. People had jeans and what have you... there were still a few long hairs around. They’d just gone to see what all the fuss was about.

Curious?

Yeah. It wasn’t a very ambient place, the Black Swan. Plastic chairs, carpet, a bit like a room where you’d have a wedding reception. But, you know, the band still played great. Johnny Rotten was in fine voice, berating the audience to get a bit louder.

Can I take you back a bit. Where about were you living at the time?

I would still be living at home in Eckington (near Sheffield). I used to see as much live music as I could.

Was it just you and your girlfriend went down that evening?

Well, I’d got a girlfriend at the time so I could hardly go down on my own as we went out on a Sunday. So I said we’ll go and see a band tonight so we went down, and after we came back to Mosborough (Sheffield village), back to The Vine which was my local at the time. I got a bit of a hard time from my mates ‘cos they’d heard that I’d gone to see the Sex Pistols. As a matter of fact I recall saying to them you probably wouldn’t have liked them but this time next year everybody will be talking about them. I could just tell they were gonna be the next big thing. I’ve had that feeling several times but I wasn’t surprised that they achieved chart success.

Can you remember what songs they played that evening?

No Fun and I think they played Pretty Vacant. Pretty sure they played Anarchy In The UK. You’ve got to remember that the songs that were on the album I wasn’t familiar with. It was a typical punk gig. I think at gigs later than that, they were more raucous and it drew a lot more attention. I’m an electric guitarist and I like Steve Jones’ style of playing.

Were there any mistakes made that evening?

I remember them stopping halfway through and Johnny Rotten having a rant about Patti Smith, I don’t know why. Yeah, there were no great dramas. It went off without a hitch. It ended not too soon after ten o’clock. They must’ve only been on stage less than an hour. Quite an unusual gig because it was just a small back room, but I saw one or two bands there.

Did the band mix with the audience before or after the gig?

There were a couple of them stood around. I did recognise Glen Matlock as I said he’d commented on my t-shirt. John Lydon wasn’t out there and I didn’t see Steve Jones. They had a few people come up them but I didn’t recognise anybody ‘cos I wasn’t familiar with the punk scene.

Was there any particular moment that stood out that evening?

No, I just thought it was great. As I say, they played a few songs that I recognised later on. I would say that really listening to the album later, I think they played most of the songs that were on it.

What was the sound quality like?

Great sound quality, because it’s a small room, carpets. They played well and they looked good. Pretty much a breath of fresh air really.

Can you remember what they wore?

John, I think he’d got a netted jumper on. Paul Cook used to wear a t-shirt didn’t he? Glen Matlock looked pretty much standard. He never looked much of a punk guy did he? I think Steve Jones had white jeans on and I remember admiring his guitar.

Do you still have the original ticket stub?

No I don’t. It was a raffle ticket type and as I recall it was 50 pence.

… interview continues on the Sex Pistols… 

Text © Mick Anyon / www.sex-pistols.net 2011 God Save The Sex Pistols ©Phil Singleton / www.sex-pistols.net 2011

Joe: The line-up for the first gig was Terry Chimes on drums, Paul Simonon, Mick Jones, myself and Keith Levene, so we had a three-guitar set-up at that time.

Mick: I don't think we had been rehearsing that long before the first gig.

Joe: The first gig we ever played was at what we used to call the Mucky Duck (actually called the Black Swan) in Sheffield. We had a song we did called "Listen", which had a bassline that went up in a scale and then down a note to start, and Paul was so nervous that he just kept going up the scale, and we all fell over laughing 'cos we didn't know when to come in.

Paul: The day The Clash started really was when we played the Mucky Duck with the Pistols, which was great. It was the first time that I had ever played on stage. The night before it felt frightening but once we were on the way there then I began larking about.

I tied one of Keith's shoes to a piece of string and hung it out of the back of the van – the door had to be open anyway so we could breathe.

So there we were sitting with all the amps and luggage with a plimsoll bouncing around behind us and all the cars behind us slowing down to avoid it. But the moment that we walked out on stage it was like I was in my own living room. I felt really comfortable. Things went wrong during the evening, and Mick had to come over and tune my guitar, but it didn't bother me. I just wanted to jump around, but Mick wanted it to be in tune.

AUTHENTIC, BRITISH, SUBCULTURE INSPIRED 

THE BLACK SWAN- Legendary Punk Pub 

Posted on 31/08/2018 by PR Intern 

The Black Swan, Snig Hill: This pub can be seen where the people are standing. It was disrespectfully known as "The Mucky Duck" by Sheffielders. It survived in place until recent times, latterly moving to the corner of Bank Street before finally giving up the ghost. Notice on the right the old "Grand" theatre. The date around 1918.

THE BLACK SWAN Legendary Punk Pub 

The Black Swan pub. If you’re familiar with British pubs you know it’s a pretty common name for some pretty standard pubs. If you are familiar to Sheffield you may know it under its nickname, the Mucky Duck. If you are young and familiar to Sheffield, you may not it as one of its more contemporary names: the Boardwalk, Compleat Anger, Fuel and Twist. But if you are familiar with the OG Punk scene, you know that the Black Swan pub in Sheffield is one of the most legendary Punk venues to have existed. 

The Black Swan is most famous for being the venue of The Clash’s first show. On the 4th July 1976 they supported the Sex Pistols, and the gig has since made its way into the history books. That day saw a blistering heat wave, and reports are conflicting, but it’s generally accepted that only a handful of fellow Punks actually turned up to the show- with the majority of the room not being Punks at all. Hard to believe, but that was the reality of Punk in it’s summer premiere. Technical Prog Rock and flower power Hippies were at a mainstream apex. 

Though the performance was stricken with the usual tuning f*** ups you might expect from band hitting the stage for the first time- Paul Simonon had never even performed live before- the members were struck with a sense of familiarity and comfort. In other words, its sounds like they finally discovered who they were and what they were meant to do. Joe and Paul describe the show in a later interview with the Guardian in 2008: 

Joe: The first gig we ever played was at what we used to call the Mucky Duck (actually called the Black Swan) in Sheffield. We had a song we did called “Listen”, which had a bassline that went up in a scale and then down a note to start, and Paul was so nervous that he just kept going up the scale, and we all fell over laughing ‘cos we didn’t know when to come in. 

Paul: The day The Clash started really was when we played the Mucky Duck with the Pistols, which was great. 

It was the first time that I had ever played on stage. The night before it felt frightening but once we were on the way there then I began larking about. I tied one of Keith’s shoes to a piece of string and hung it out of the back of the van – the door had to be open anyway so we could breathe. So there we were sitting with all the amps and luggage with a plimsoll bouncing around behind us and all the cars behind us slowing down to avoid it. But the moment that we walked out on stage it was like I was in my own living room. I felt really comfortable. Things went wrong during the evening, and Mick had to come over and tune my guitar, but it didn’t bother me. I just wanted to jump around, but Mick wanted it to be in tune. 

The following day, it seems they impressed. Sounds magazine described the band: 

...the first band to come along who’ll really frighten the Sex Pistols...what hits first is the gut- curdling power of them. It’s like the gleaming and totally unstoppable bastard son of the Pistols and the Ramones with the firepower of Status Quo. I think a hell of a lot of people are going to be knocked out by them. Exciting isn’t the word for it. 

But it certainly didn’t stop there for the Black Swan/Boardwalk.

A regular barfly in later years was Jarvis Cocker, who went on to found seminal Brit Pop band Pulp. They played the Black Swan a number of times. This was also the spot that Human League was formed, when Phil Oakey recruited Susan and Joanne, which you can read more about HERE in a past post of ours. Then even more recently, an ex-employee of the venue started his own band, and wrote an EP called ‘Beneath the Boardwalk’. They turned out to the Arctic Monkeys, and played a number of their early shows at the same history laden venue on top of Snig Hill. 

To end, rumour has it that the Black Swan might be resurrected from the Punk crypt. The venue has been listed as up for sale since 2016, and locals are more than little pleased at the idea of having this legendary venue re-open its doors once again. 

Published July 4, 2018

Today in History: The Clash play their first live gig

Formed as the first shots of the punk revolution were being fired, The Clash played their first live gig at The Black Swan in Sheffield, as an opening act for The Sex Pistols on this day in 1976.

While America celebrated the bicentennial anniversary of its independence from Britain, the UK was in the midst of another revolution, this one staged on its very own shores. One eyewitness was singer/guitarist Joe Strummer, then the front-man of a popular pub-rock band called the 101ers.

Before a gig at a London club called the Nashville Room in April 1976, he watched as that evening’s opening act took the stage: “Five seconds into their first song, I just knew we were like yesterday’s papers. I mean, we were over.” The group was The Sex Pistols, and their effect on Strummer was life-altering.

Within weeks, he’d accepted an invitation from guitarist Mick Jones and bassist Paul Simonon to leave the 101ers and join their as-yet-unnamed and drummer-less new band. Together, the three of them would form the core of a group their fans would call, with all sincerity, The Only Band That Matters, that would eventually culminate in The Clash.

The first live gig The Clash ever played had its predictable rough patches, but their enthusiasm and commitment were there from the start, as were their unique musical and visual aesthetics. The Clash was instantly distinguishable from the group that inspired them, by virtue of their sincere political bent.

While The Sex Pistols sneered and preached anarchy, there was always a barely disguised element of hucksterism to their social agenda. The Clash, on the other hand, quickly established themselves as the zealous and decidedly unsoft advocates of leftist causes like racial justice.

As U2 guitarist The Edge later wrote of The Clash, “This wasn’t just entertainment. It was a life-and-death thing. They made it possible for us to take our band seriously… It was the call to wake up, get wise, get angry, get political and get noisy about it.”

It took some months following their debut gig for The Clash to work out the kinks and find the drummer, Topper Headon, who would complete their definitive lineup. Even 25 years later, Joe Strummer could still quote nearly verbatim one of their early reviews: “The Clash are one of those garage bands who should be swiftly returned to the garage, with the doors locked and with the motor left running.”

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"4th July: The Clash played their debut gig supporting the Sex Pistols at Sheffield’s Black Swan pub. The Black Swan was a regular venue on the pub rock scene with the likes of Brinsley Schwarz, Ducks Deluxe and the ubiquitous Dr Feelgood playing there. There was probably only a handful of people present, although some eyewitnesses reported a sizeable crowd in the sweltering venue in the middle of the 1976 summer heatwave.

The Clash singer-songwriter-guitarist Mick Jones recalls: "We played our first gig at the Black Swan in Sheffield. We went in the back of a removal truck with the gear piled up next to us. We all sat in the back. It had a gate on the back. It was open like an old army truck. We put someone’s shoes on a string and put them out the back and they bounced along! And the gear was going like this [waves his hand about, laughing] and it was quite hairy! "It was the back room of a pub. There were 50 people there, a couple of punks, It was interesting. Wherever you went you would see a couple of them in the early times. Then you would see them getting more all the time. They would tell their friends. It was a big thing.

"Very often people got it completely wrong. But in a way you couldn’t get it wrong. It wasn’t formed. We were just starting to find out what it could be. You didn’t think about it too much really. When you are young you think about it after in the post-match analysis! By the time everyone had sussed it, it was already over.

"We were dressed in black and white. A couple of us had ties on, black and white shirts with suity bits. It was punky style. Not good suits, a bit ripped. Kind of tight suits, slightly different. We were dressed fairly straight and well-behaved in a way. Maybe a rip here and a little splash of colour there. A couple of pin-type things, not safety pins. The look was still formulating.

After a month full of rehearsals and getting a grip on their sound, The Clash headed up to Sheffield on July 4th, 1976, to make their grand arrival. Fittingly, The Sex Pistols were the headliners that evening at The Black Swan as Joe Strummer, Mick Jones, and Paul Simonon played together for the first time.

We had a song we did called ‘Listen’, Strummer recalled. Which had a bassline that went up in a scale and then down a note to start, and Paul was so nervous that he just kept going up the scale, and we all fell over laughing ‘cos we didn’t know when to come in.

It was the first time that I had ever played on stage, Paul Simonon added. The night before it felt frightening but once we were on the way there then I began larking about. I tied one of Keith’s shoes to a piece of string and hung it out of the back of the van – the door had to be open anyway so we could breathe.

The bassist continued: So there we were sitting with all the amps and luggage with a plimsoll bouncing around behind us and all the cars behind us slowing down to avoid it. But the moment that we walked out on stage it was like I was in my own living room. I felt really comfortable. Things went wrong during the evening, and Mick had to come over and tune my guitar, but it didn’t bother me. I just wanted to jump around, but Mick wanted it to be in tune.

The first show might have been full of glitches, but all the snags across the show only added to the delicious chaos and set a precedent of what to expect over The Clash’s reign of terror across the following decade. Across this time, they would prove that they were the only band that matters.

The Clash’s full setlist from that evening sadly isn’t available. It is known, however, that they did treat the Sheffield crowd to a rendition of ‘Protex Blue’, a track that later appeared on their self-titled debut. The band also exhibited their reggae influences with a cover of The Maytals hit ‘Pressure Drop’. Not only was this inclusion a sign of things to come for the band, but it also showed from the off that they were more than just another punk group.

The night that punk went overground – July 4th 1976 – an oral account

Written by louderthanwar, 4 July 2012

36 years ago on July 4th 1976 there were two key gigs that saw punk move overground. The Ramones supported The Flaming Groovies at the Roundhouse in a gig that saw nearly every band speed up overnight.

Classic bill that changed everything.

Meanwhile the Sex Pistols and The Clash played the Black Swan in Sheffield, which was the debut gig by The Clash.

In this excerpt from John Robb’s Punk Rock – An Oral History the people who were there explain what happened.

4th July: The Clash played their debut gig supporting the Sex Pistols at Sheffield’s Black Swan pub. The Black Swan was a regular venue on the pub rock circuit (and still is a regular venue – now called the Boardwalk on Snig Hill, Sheffield) with the likes of Brinsley Schwarz, Ducks Deluxe and the ubiquitous Dr Feelgood playing there. There was probably only a handful of people present, although some eyewitnesses reported a sizeable crowd in the sweltering venue in the middle of the 1976 summer heatwave.

Mick Jones

We played our first gig at the Black Swan in Sheffield. We went in the back of a removal truck with the gear piled up next to us. We all sat in the back. It had a gate on the back, and it was open like an old army truck, and we put someone’s shoes on a string and put them out the back and they bounced along! And the gear was going like this [waves his hand about, laughing] – it was quite hairy!

It was the back room of a pub. There were fifty people there, a couple of punks – it was interesting, wherever you went you would see a couple of them in the early times. Then you would see them getting more all the time – they would tell their friends. It was a big thing.

Very often people got it completely wrong. But in a way you couldn’t get it wrong, it wasn’t formed. We were just starting to find out what it could be. You didn’t think about it too much really. When you are young you think about it after in the post-match analysis! By the time everyone had sussed it, it was already over.

We were dressed in black and white. A couple of us had ties on, black and white shirts with suity bits. It was punky style – not good suits, a bit ripped. Kind of tight suits, slightly different. We were dressed fairly straight and well-behaved in a way – maybe a rip here and a little splash of colour there. A couple of pin-type things, not safety pins. The look was still formulating.

There was a bit of paint dribbled here and there. It had come off when we had to paint the rehearsal room. We got the paint from the car spray place down the road. Bernie was involved in garages and he used to go down there and get spray. We started painting all the amps pink, and as we were painting everything we were getting covered in paint. I guess that was our first look. Also Glen has a claim to this as well, because he had a pair of trousers that were paint-splattered à la Pollock, so he should take a bit of credit for it. The style thing came naturally through Paul. We were all into the style, especially Paul and I. Joe not so much, but we would always encourage each other.

Keith Levene

At the Black Swan I remember John sitting miles away from the rest of the band members, looking miserable, and there’s me sitting in another corner away from all my band members, looking miserable. So I walk over to Lydon and talk to him. We know each other, but we don’t know each other, because we’re the rival bands. We were both in the same scene but we knew we were the best bands on the scene at the time. I said, “I’m out of here after this gig.” (It turned out I was out a few gigs later, after the Roundhouse show.) “Do you want to get a band together if the Pistols ever end? Though it doesn’t look like it at the moment – looks like you could be the next Beatles. But if it ever changes… And there’s no way I’m going to be in a band with Steve Jones. It’s going to be a different band or it’s going to be the Sex Pistols with me.”

4th July: The same night as The Clash’s debut up in Sheffield, The Ramones played the Roundhouse in Camden, and nearby Dingwalls the following night, supporting the Flamin’ Groovies. Playing to 2000 people at the Roundhouse was their biggest gig yet, the first time they had played outside small clubs. These were also their first shows in the UK, and proved to be pivotal moments in the early punk scene. Instantly nearly every band speeded up. All the faces from the nascent punk scene were there… and it ended up in a brawl outside Dingwalls.

Marco Pirroni

I went to see The Ramones at Dingwalls. I thought they were great. After that, everybody speeded up. Suddenly it’s “1, 2, 3, 4, duh-duh-duh-duh-duh…” Before that, everyone was quite different.

Rob Lloyd

Before seeing the Pistols I had seen The Ramones play. They came over and played at the Roundhouse supporting The Flamin’ Groovies, with The Stranglers third on the bill. Me and Dave Schofield and Graham Blunt, the bass player in The Prefects, hitched down to London to that gig specifically to see The Ramones. When they had finished, The Flamin’ Groovies came on – they were OK but this was the time when they were all wearing Beatles suits and sounding a bit ropey. We thought they looked shit and went into the bar area, which was empty because, believe it or not, easily the majority of the crowd had gone to see The Flamin’ Groovies.

The Ramones and a few hangers-on were in the bar with Danny Fields, who was their legendary manager. He came up to us and started talking, and they couldn’t understand that we had actually travelled to see them. They thought that they meant nothing to nobody in the UK, and when we said that we had hitched a few hundred miles to see them they were made up. They said, “Do you know we are playing Dingwalls tomorrow night?” which was Sunday night. Danny Fields said, “Are you coming?” We said, “We got nowhere to stay, we’ve got to go back to school in Cannock on Monday.” Danny Fields said, “Do you want to stay at our hotel?” We said, “Yeah!” and he booked a room in the same hotel as The Ramones.

The next day we went to dinner with The Ramones and their record company in the UK, and we went to the soundcheck at Dingwalls. Outside Dingwalls was the Pistols and The Clash waiting to meet The Ramones. I remember The Clash had the 101ers’ ‘Keys To Your Heart’ to give to The Ramones – they had nothing else to give them.

There was an air of tension at the gig in general. I don’t know what The Ramones thought of the Pistols and The Clash but both bands had turned up to pay homage to them. I think The Ramones were a bit frightened of them. The British bands were sitting on the bonnets of cars that were parked outside. They looked like they were looking for trouble – when you look back on it that was a big pose. Apart from one person who was looking for trouble – J. J. Burnel. I think there might have been a bit of bother between The Stranglers and The Clash.

J. J. Burnel

There was that incident with Paul Simonon at Dingwalls, which didn’t help with us and the punk elite. The other bands were a bit pissed off that we had been chosen to represent London at the July 4th bicentennial gig. We were the first to play with The Ramones and Patti Smith, and that pissed a few people off. We were out of the inner circle after that. That did us immense favours in the long term. We evolved on our own, as if we had been in Australia for millions of years, like weird animals.

Rat Scabies

You had to go and see The Ramones. There was no choice. We went to see them at Dingwalls the following night and everyone was there. I remember Paul Simonon fighting with J. J. Burnel. I remember a photograph somewhere of all the bands standing outside with Danny Fields. Chrissie Hynde was there as well. We were all given miniature baseball bats. Mine was a black one with “The Ramones” on the side of it. I lost it years ago.

Gaye Advert

I saw The Ramones at the Roundhouse. I’ve still got my toy baseball bat. Joey came down the side at the end of the gig and was handing them out. I’d never heard of The Flamin’ Groovies before. It seemed strange that The Ramones were supporting them. The Ramones were amazing. You wouldn’t have known the lyrics from the gigs! Thirty seconds into the track and you would realise which song it was, and then the song was over.

Marco Pirroni

The Ramones were the biggest influence. Suddenly everything became like The Ramones. That became the standard style, but no one did it as well as The Ramones. They also had that pop sensibility as well. They wrote great tunes. They always looked the same. Their clothes were like a Hanna-Barbera cartoon – they always wore the same clothes, they never changed, and neither did The Ramones. Initially I hated their long hair but I forgave them because they were so good!

Captain Sensible

When The Ramones came over – that was a bit of a revelation. Everyone sped up after that Dingwalls gig. Everyone in the audience – you knew most of them. The funny thing was when you did your first gig in those days, like that Ramones gig at Dingwalls, if there was anyone who walked in there who didn’t know what it was, they would walk out again.

Rob Lloyd

All kinds of things happened. Danny Fields wanted me to start up a Ramones UK fan club. Legs McNeil’s Punk magazine had a photo story of the Ramones’ first trip to the UK. There was a couple of photos of me with the Ramones – the caption underneath said, “Here are the Ramones with Robert Lloyd, Europe’s Number One Ramones fan.” Danny was in touch with me for some time trying to get me to start a Ramones fan club. Apart from managing The Doors, The Stooges and The Nice, Danny also had a hand in the American magazine Sixteen. Danny was an old gay geezer and this Sixteen magazine had pictures of Bay City Rollers and David Cassidy – he loved that kind of pop. He wanted the Ramones to be a cartoon pop band rather than an alternative punk group. He was really keen on the idea of having a fan club because he was into pop bands. By that stage I said, “I love the Ramones, Danny, but the main thing is I want to start my own group now.”

Vic Godard

That was an important gig. I remember Joe Strummer being right down the front. Everyone was there. Talking Heads were the support band and we were there to see them mainly. McLaren came up and said, “You look like you are in a band.” We were wearing Oxfam clothes dyed all dark grey to make it all look really drab – it was our look. We were into films. The big film influence were these Polish films that had a post-war grimy look about them. We were into the East European look. McLaren told us to form a group at that Ramones Roundhouse gig. We were like a group of people who hung about at college. It was this group that ended up in the band. It was similar to people who went to the Pistols. At first when we got the band together it was like a pisstake. It was like we were doing comedy! The drummer was singing, doing impersonations of Johnny Cash, Elvis and Danny La Rue. He was the singer, a real extrovert in the band, and it was unfortunate that he was the only one who could play drums so I ended up being the singer. All I could do was play harmonica, so that was all that I did, and a lot of the songs didn’t have harmonica on them at all. I just wanted to be part of it, but not the singer.

[Footnote 1] The Flamin’ Groovies were perhaps the most unlucky band of all time, making a habit of being the wrong band at the wrong time. Formed in San Francisco in 1963, they were initially a beat group influenced by the British Invasion, making great albums like Supersnazz and getting ignored by the psychedelic-drenched West Coast scene. Moving to England in 1971, they recorded the classic Teenage Head album with Dave Edmunds producing. By 1976 it seemed like fate had conspired in their favour with a more back-to-basics flavour in the air. They released the genius Shake Some Action album and looked set to break through on the back of punk rock, but it wasn’t to be, and the band faded to eternal cult status.

On 4 July 1976, as America celebrated its bi-centennial, and Israeli com- mandos rescued 100 hostages from Ugandan skyjackers, the group made their live debut supporting The Sex Pistols at the Black Swan in Sheffield.

It followed a tradition of new London groups road-testing themselves out of town: it was the same city where The Small Faces had played their first gig eleven years before.

The Clash were so excited they were up at 5 a.m. and on their way by 7 a.m., even though Sheffield was just four hours' drive away, and the gig didn't start till 8 p.m. 'We were so desperate to go out and do it after all those rehearsals,' explains Chimes. Toe and I felt like The Pistols were the opposition. The others, Mick and Paul, were saying, "No, they're our comrades in arms."'

Travelling up in the van, the impish Paul provided the entertainment by wrestling one of Levene's shoes off him and trailing it along the motorway at the end of a rope.

The gig - entrance 90p - had been arranged by McLaren, who'd told the promoter the support was The 101ers. 'We filled in,' recalls Micky Foote. 'We didn't tell the geezer till the last minute that Joe Strummer was coming up with his new band. He was like, "I booked the hacking lOl'ers!" But there were at least half a dozen people there who looked a bit punky. Word had got up there. There were sixty or seventy lOl'ers fans who were a bit disap- pointed ... I was doing the sound and we talked this guy in a music shop in Walthamstow - I think Bernie knew him - into lending us a PA. The group were rattling round with the equipment in the back of this great big van. They had all the gear on, it was pretty exciting. Joe's out of his suit and into a pair of jeans and shoes dripping with paint. There was everything to do, everything to change.'

Onstage, Joe transformed into a spluttering punk madman, his 'electric leg' in overdrive. Simonon wore a stylish two-tone suit and threw great shapes. The first song they ever played was the instrumental 'Listen'. Joe remembered Paul starting the bass intro to the latter and failing to stop climbing the scale at the appropriate point. This elicited guffaws of laughter from the group. The Sex Pistols were relieved that their competition didn't look too threatening.

The only 'review' at the time was an anonymous letter in the following week's Sounds. After trashing The Pistols it read: 'Clash were just a cacophonous barrage of noise. The bass guitarist had no idea how to play the instrument, and even had to get another member of the band to tune it for him. They tried to play 1960s R&B but failed dismally.' Micky Foote, however, remem- bers The Clash being 'well-received' and Bernie enthusiastically telling the promoter 'they were gonna be the next big thing'.

...It was Paul Simonon who noticed how frequently the headlines in the London Evening Standard carried the word "clash"; the Clash was the name decided upon. "I didn't just stumble upon it," he said. "We were so highly attuned to what we needed by then that the word leapt out at me from the pages of the paper." Which was just as well, as—after nagging Bernie Rhodes ceaselessly—the group had their first gig booked, as opening act to the Sex Pistols, at a pub the 101'ers had played, the Black Swan, 180 miles north of London, on July 4, 1976.

"It was pretty good," Joe told Mal Peachy, "because there we were in Sheffield and I think it was on a Sunday afternoon and all these people came out of the woodwork, you know, like punk types: ex—Roxy Music, like leopard-skin period, but searching on for the next thing. Lots of makeup and hair beginning to go berserk. There was a fair audience there, and that gave us a lot of heart. Because we realized that this was a nationwide thing that was just about to explode."

"One thing that didn't change from the beginning, right through to the end of the group," confided Chimes, "was that before each show Mick was always nervous, running around, very uncomfortable and really stressed. But Joe was making jokes and seemed very happy. Then we'd come offstage and Mick would be all happy because it's over, and Joe would be sitting with his head in his hands, saying it was the end of the world—and that never changed at all."

Among the numbers played by the Clash were the 101'ers' "Rabies (from the Dogs of Love)," Mick Jones's "Ooh, Baby, Ooh (It's Not Over)" and "Listen," an instrumental number. Joe's equipment included a micro- phone he had stolen from the English National Opera House when he worked there as a janitor. During the Pistols' set, Joe Strummer and Terry Chimes stood at the side of the stage. "I really rate this lot," confided Joe to the drummer. "They're not very good, are they?" was, in turn, John Lydon's almost predictable assessment of the Clash to Glen Matlock.

The Sheffield date only intensified the level of ambition within the Clash. July 5 saw the Clash at Dingwall's Dancehall in Camden Town, to see the revered Ramones. The following night, the Damned opened for the Pis- tols at one of their Tuesday-night 100 Club dates, which caused anxiety within the Clash. They should have been playing that gig: were they going to miss the boat of this new musical mood?

Joe: The line-up for the first gig was Terry Chimes on drums, Paul Simonon, Mick Jones, myself and Keith Levene, so we had a three-guitar set-up at that time.

Mick: I don't think we had been rehearsing that long before the first gig.

Joe: The first gig we ever played was at what we used to call the Mucky Duck (actually called the Black Swan) in Sheffield. We had a song we did called " Listen" , which had a bassline that went up in a scale and then down a note to start, and Paul was so nervous that he just kept going up the scale, and we all fell over laughing 'cos we didn't know when to come in.

Paul: The day The Clash started really was when we played the Mucky Duck with the Pistols, which was great.

It was the first time that I had ever played on stage. The night before it felt frightening but once we were on the way there then I began larking about. I tied one of Keith's shoes to a piece of string and hung it out of the back of the van ñ the door had to be open anyway so we could breathe. So there we were sitting with all the amps and luggage with a plimsoll bouncing around behind us and all the cars behind us slowing down to avoid it. But the moment that we walked out on stage it was like I was in my own living room. I felt really comfortable. Things went wrong during the evening, and Mick had to come over and tune my guitar, but it didn't bother me. I just wanted to jump around, but Mick wanted it to be in tune.