Barbed Wire Kisses: The Jesus and Mary Chain Story Read online

  The Jesus and Mary Chain’s idea for ‘Upside Down’ and Syd Barrett’s ‘Vegetable Man’, the planned B-side, was that the recordings would sound as close as possible to their original Portastudio demos. However, McGee, hooked on the band’s gut-wrenching live sound, was keen to bring out the noisier, dirtier side of the Mary Chain. For the band, this, their debut recording, was all-important. Douglas Hart remembers there was ‘a debate about how extreme to make it, not that we were anti that, but we were starting out with making a record’. There was always going to be a healthy amount of distortion on the tracks, however.

  ‘They played guitar through a rack-mount digital delay,’ says Collier. ‘Quite a cheap and cheerful thing. I said, “What are you going to do with that?” And they plugged into it and cranked up the input so it distorted, like a transistorised distortion. Actually sounded pretty cool. That was the guitar sound. I was thinking, This is ridiculous, you can’t do that, you’ve got to have an amplifier! But of course, it worked fine.’

  The session might have felt like a ‘fraught disaster’ as it was happening, to quote Pat Collier, but it was coming together exactly as it should, and by the end they had the proof. The sound was already huge, even before extra feedback was added during the mixing stage, and the octave-apart vocals and stark lyrics, detailing the Reids’ very real and almost claustrophobic sense of isolation and disconnection, were by contrast mumbled quietly by Jim over the Mary Chain’s own Wall of Sound.

  Pat Collier says: ‘By the time we got to the end, it was like, Blimey! It sounds really good. When you added it all up it was more than the sum of the parts.’ Collier engineered and mixed the track, and McGee and Foster were present to encourage, oversee and generally ‘produce’ – or, as Collier remembers it, they ‘sat in the producer’s chair and went, “Yeah, right. Hmm . . . OK.” It was just banging it down as fast as we could and that was it.’ The Jesus and Mary Chain themselves needed no one to tell them what to do. The Reids had already made great demos on their own, after all.

  Jim Reid says: ‘Having other people there was more of a hindrance in some ways. We knew how the Mary Chain were supposed to sound, we didn’t need a producer.’ ‘Alan encouraged us to make it louder,’ Douglas adds. ‘But no one pushed us to record it or to sound that way. William knew his way around the Portastudio, he’s a smart guy and he’s an intuitive musician, he’s no slouch in the studio. If anyone produced it, it was Pat Collier and William, maybe. But even then it was a Mary Chain production.’

  Once the basic tracks had been recorded, the Mary Chain added squeals of feedback using one of Alaska Studios’ rehearsal amps. When Pat Collier finally handed them a copy of the rough mix, which the Mary Chain themselves had been closely involved with (each mainly to turn up his own part when the others weren’t looking), they took it away, fatigued but euphoric. However, when they took it back to Alan’s and listened to it on a ghetto-blaster, it sounded rather different to how they remembered it.

  Jim says: ‘We mixed it on these big Tannoy speakers that were bigger than my first flat. It sounded immense. That’s pretty good, we thought. You can’t do better than that. Then we took the tape home, put it on and it just sounded dreadful. It sounded like FM American rock or something. How did that happen?’

  Alan and William went back to the studio the following day to remix the track and crank up the feedback. As Pat Collier remembers it, it took some time to get the required sound. ‘We had four or five tracks of feedback on the 24-track tape, so I pushed the feedback up and they went, “OK, we need more.” I pushed it up a bit more. “No, we need more.” I pushed it up and we reached the top of the fader. “No, we need more.”

  ‘I pulled all of the faders down, cranked all the input gains in the top and off we went again. We reached the top of the fader again and I said, “Whoa, hang on a minute, you sit in front of the desk.” I went round the back of the desk and they kept pushing the fader up and reaching the top, and we kept going until we basically had that well-known record that, when everyone heard it, thought their radio had gone wrong.’

  It took time to get the mix right, and, as McGee remembers it, the band still weren’t entirely happy with the result, but Alan was seriously excited and called Bobby Gillespie as soon as he could. Bobby: ‘McGee calls me up and says, “This is the best thing I’ve ever released. It’s going to blow the fucking scene wide open. People are waiting for this.” You can never underestimate the enthusiasm this guy had for pushing that band.’

  McGee was so enthusiastic, in fact, that he decided he couldn’t wait to post Bobby a tape of the mixes; he bought a £10 Stagecoach ticket from London to Glasgow and travelled overnight to play it to him in person. Bobby had been printing record sleeves for Creation, as he’d previously worked in a print factory and knew someone who had a printing machine in his garage. Said machine would normally churn out wedding invitations and Christmas cards, but, as Bobby explains, ‘All the early Creation sleeves were printed in this guy’s garage. Alan would give me the artwork, this guy would do a lithograph and we would do 500 of them.’ Had Bobby had any record sleeves ready for Alan to collect, so much the better, but either way, McGee was just bursting to play Bobby the tracks.

  McGee arrived in Glasgow at around 7 a.m. and made his way straight to Bobby’s house, brandishing the tape like a man possessed. As soon as that now well-known screech of feedback kicked in, Bobby was as smitten as McGee. ‘He played me the Joe Foster mix, which had no feedback,’ Bobby says, ‘and then the William Reid/McGee mix. He said, “What do you think?” And I said, “Yours and William’s.”’*

  The Mary Chain themselves still weren’t satisfied, but McGee was confident that once both he and Bobby got behind it, they’d soon persuade them they had an underground hit on their hands. ‘Common sense overruled,’ says McGee. ‘They went with it and it fucking exploded.’

  Another ally of Creation who was given a preview of the release was the writer, musician and then Membranes frontman John Robb, he of the Mohawk haircut and husky, rapid-fire northwest delivery. ‘The single was really fantastic,’ he says. ‘I liked “Vegetable Man” better, actually. It was such a cool idea to cover that track. Stuff like Syd Barrett at that time was very cult, you had to be kind of a student type to be into it, so it was like, Wow, these scruffy kids . . . We thought they were kids, we didn’t realise they were older than we were. Quite funny.’ The Reids in particular were always cagey or downright dishonest about their ages in interviews. For all of their radicalism and punk insouciance, they were keenly aware of the pop world’s love of ‘bright young things’ – William was already pushing twenty-seven at this stage. The Mary Chain were ambitious but, it’s fair to say, were never known for rushing into anything. However, when challenged on this point, Jim airily delivered the following statement: ‘Sometimes I lie about my age, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I lie about what I had for my dinner as well. I’m a bit of a lying bastard.’ Which may also be a lie.

  John Robb was writing for the music magazine ZigZag, a publication started by Rock Family Trees creator Pete Frame. It was hailed as less mainstream than the competition and had strong punk affiliations, thanks to its years under the editorship of Kris Needs. It received a fresh injection of energy when it was relaunched in 1984 with the introduction of new editor and goth aficionado Mick Mercer. The Jesus and Mary Chain, as they have long found themselves having to insist, were never goths (black clothes and big hair do not necessarily a goth make) but they would fit into the new ZigZag neatly.

  McGee swiftly arranged for John Robb to conduct the Mary Chain’s first interview for an established music magazine,* which took place at John’s flat in The Membranes’ band house in Didsbury, Manchester. It isn’t remembered as a particularly comfortable afternoon. ‘Alan used to work for British Rail before he went full-time with his label, so he’d get free passes,’ says John. ‘He brought the band to Manchester on the train, the two brothers and Douglas. McGee had a bag with about eight cans of lager
in it, and the interview was basically McGee ranting and the band just moping in the corner. The Reids were so insular it was like the world hardly existed for them.’

  *

  London 1984/5. Everything is dead, everyone’s waiting for something. Too many false starts have made people cynical, though a beacons [sic] remain. ‘Mad’ Alan McGee, Creation supremo, needs an exciting group: is this another false start? Who needs starts anyway? . . . Jesus and The Mary Chain [sic] huddle together on the bed, protected only by their cynicism . . .

  ‘Any careerists in the room? What’ll you be doing in five years’ time?’ ‘We’re only seventeen, we don’t care what happens next.’

  And what’s more folks, they don’t!

  John Robb/ZigZag

  * The ‘Upside Down’ that was released was William and Alan’s mix, and the mix of ‘Vegetable Man’ credited to Joe Foster was used for the B-side.

  * The band’s first ever interview was conducted by Chris Davidson and featured in his cult fanzine Slow Dazzle.

  7

  Murray Leaves, Bobby Joins, Germany Beckons

  They were real outsider, loner guys. Weirdos. Like I’m a weirdo. Rock’n’roll kids, basically.

  Bobby Gillespie on The Jesus and Mary Chain

  Just weeks after the recording of ‘Upside Down’, McGee had an announcement to make: Creation Records would be going on a tour of Germany, and The Jesus and Mary Chain were on the bill, alongside Alan’s own band Biff Bang Pow! and the Jasmine Minks. For the Mary Chain, it would be the first time they’d ever left Britain. Home was still East Kilbride for the band, but life was accelerating and the Mary Chain’s confidence and power were increasing by the day. However, a temporary disaster was about to strike.

  Murray Dalglish was uncertain of what the future held with The Jesus and Mary Chain, and when he was offered an apprenticeship in East Kilbride he decided to take it. It was 1984, unemployment was high, and there were no guarantees in the music business. Murray, encouraged by his family, wanted to earn a living.

  Murray says: ‘It was decision time for me. I’d been offered a job to build buses. Getting offered an apprenticeship was a massive thing, you couldn’t get them for love nor money. We were on the Tube going somewhere and I just came out with it. I don’t think there was any trying to change my mind.’

  Certainly Murray didn’t think there was any danger of ‘Upside Down’ doing particularly well. ‘I wouldn’t have been thinking it would have done anything near what it did do,’ he says. ‘Even when it did go to number 1, number 2 in the indie charts, by that time I was out of the band. But even that, it wasn’t like that’s a massive thing to have done. If you weren’t on Top of the Pops then you were nobody. A few years later they were on Top of the Pops, of course.’

  While the news sent Alan McGee temporarily into a tailspin, the rest of the band were philosophical. They liked Murray, but for a while they hadn’t been sure whether he fitted in – which, admittedly, would have been a tall order for most people. He was also just sixteen years old, and the rest of the group, despite what they might have told John Robb, were not seventeen.

  ‘We – Jim, William and I – had been around together for ages, so it must have been difficult for Murray,’ says Douglas. ‘But he’s a well-adjusted guy, I don’t think it fucked him up to any degree. When there were arguments about style, musically, then that was upsetting for him. “Other drummers are laughing at me . . .” For us it was like, Uh-uh. I guess when it came to it, the most important thing was the music.’

  Jim Reid’s stand-out memory is that Murray was also concerned about the money – or lack of it – that they were making as a band. ‘We just wanted to make a hell of a racket and grab people by the throat,’ says Jim. ‘But Murray would be saying, “My dad said we should be making more money.” – “Well, Murray, we will, but we have to go through this.” He would say things like, “If I joined a country and western band and toured Canada, I’d make £500 a week.” There’s nothing you can say to that, really. He was just a kid. You kind of knew it wasn’t going to work. He left before he was pushed, if you know what I mean.’

  After returning to East Kilbride, the Reids and Douglas bade Murray farewell and left the teenage drummer to venture forth in his new life. He would still play drums, but the difference was that he would soon join a band with people he knew and fitted in with. Murray explains: ‘I went on to play in a band called Baby’s Got A Gun, named after the Only Ones song. I’d gone to school with some of these guys. I probably had more enjoyment with what I was doing then. I would have still been an outsider even if I’d been in the Mary Chain today, I think.’

  Once again, the Mary Chain needed to find a drummer quickly, and the solution was already under their noses. Alan McGee knew Bobby Gillespie had been drafted in the past to drum for Altered Images, the Scottish pop act of ‘Happy Birthday’ fame, fronted by the elfin Gregory’s Girl starlet Clare Grogan. Gillespie would be the ideal replacement: he was already part of the Mary Chain family anyway.

  Bobby recalls: ‘I used to roadie for Altered Images because we were friends. I was eighteen and they were fifteen, they were at school, they were punks in Glasgow. I used to go up to town on a Saturday and buy records, and these kids were always in the same record stores. Eventually I’m checking them, they’re checking me, I could see they were buying cool records, and they could see I was buying cool records. So it was like, “Are you going to see Siouxsie and the Banshees this week?’ – “Yeah.” Turns out they’ve got a band, and that band became Altered Images.

  ‘One time they were supporting Spizz Energi at the Rock Garden and the drummer, I don’t know what happened, he just disappeared. So I played drums in front of all these crazy skinheads. I mean, it was just filling in. Pretty primitive drumming.’

  ‘I don’t even think we auditioned Bobby,’ Jim Reid admits. ‘We just said, “Can you drum?” “Yeah, a wee bit.” “Right, OK.”’

  The Creation package tour of Germany was just weeks away, but The Jesus and Mary Chain had some pre-tour gigs in the book that could act as a warm up for their new drummer. This called for something that marked a break in Mary Chain tradition: a rehearsal.

  The Mary Chain booked some time in the crypt of a church off Sauchiehall Street in Glasgow, where Fire Engines guitarist Davy Henderson had a studio. It was a hub for bands such as Orange Juice and Strawberry Switchblade, ‘and we all kind of fancied Strawberry Switchblade,’ Bobby admits. Once the band had set up, Bobby walked over to the drums, ignored the drum stool and started to play standing up, simply but powerfully, Moe Tucker-style. Floor tom and snare. No danger of any unnecessary fills here. He’d stripped the drum sound back, perhaps because he wasn’t really a drummer and couldn’t throw in an extravagant drum-fill even if he wanted to, but for the Mary Chain he was ideal.

  Douglas Hart says: ‘I remember when we rehearsed in Glasgow with him. The energy . . . it had been good before, but it was just, “This is it”. The difference was quite marked. Not just in the simplification of the drums, but his personality, the energy that he brought just completed it. We got the bus back to East Kilbride, and we were all thinking, Well, this is going to be great. It had always been great; it wasn’t like Murray was letting it down, but when Bobby joined it was a band.’

  ‘I thought about this a few years later,’ Bobby muses. ‘They had the image sorted out, and when I joined it made it better. Everything about me joining was better for them musically, psychically, image-wise. I can say that without sounding big-headed. It just felt like a unit.’

  This was a thrilling watershed for the Mary Chain – they didn’t just have a new drummer, they had a close friend in the line-up, infusing their live show with an electrifying new vitality, confidence and visual impact. Bobby was on his feet, dressed in black, often wearing dark glasses like his new bandmates, playing with furious energy on just two drums, a look and sound that would be emulated by later groups such as fellow Scots Glasvegas. The Jesus and Ma
ry Chain would also be going abroad for the first time in their lives in just a few weeks’ time.

  Bobby Gillespie says: ‘Me and Douglas went to get our passports on the same day. We went for a coffee or an ice-cream afterwards and Douglas said, “We’re all going to get leather trousers in Germany, it’s going to be like The Beatles in Hamburg. We’re going to be rock’n’roll stars.” I was like, “I’m not getting leather trousers!” And he went, “You are. We’ll be like Generation X!”’

  8

  Peel Session, The Three Johns, NME Falls in Love

  We want success, but we want to do it on our own terms.

  Jim Reid to Picture Disc, 1985

  McGee had secured a session for The Jesus and Mary Chain on John Peel’s Radio 1 show, the only broadcast outlet that was simpatico to what they and others like them were doing. They also had two gigs to play before they boarded their ferry to Germany – one in Glasgow with Primal Scream and the other, the night before they left, at the Three Johns pub in Islington, North London.

  Although Primal Scream and the Mary Chain had wanted to put their own gig on together for months, Bobby had felt his own group weren’t ready. But the time had come, and in a reaction to the Mary Chain being rejected so vehemently by Glasgow so far, they found their own venue and did everything themselves, from the booking of the PA to the publicity. The gig took place on 11 October 1984 at the Venue in Glasgow, and Bobby, of course, would be playing in both groups. He also designed the poster, which took inspiration from the film If...., printed a stack in his friend’s garage and went around town with the Mary Chain, pasting them up on every available wall space.

  Bobby says: ‘It was the poster from the film If.... with the hand-grenade, “Which side are you on?”