An Audience With The Clash’s Paul Simonon: “I’m the Clint Eastwood of bass playing!”

This article was originally published in Uncut Take 261 (February 2019)

It’s strange to be meeting Paul Simonon within a few steps of the Westway, the London flyover that looms so large in Clash lore. Coincidence – or maybe serendipity – has brought him back here, to Damon Albarn’s studio, where much of The Good, The Bad & The Queen’s new album was recorded. “In some ways it’s very familiar because I used to go to school round here, but the area’s changed quite a lot,” muses Simonon. “A lot of people have been priced out. This part [Latimer Road] is alright because it hasn’t really changed, but Ladbroke Grove, Portobello Road, I don’t recognise it, other than shapes of buildings and stuff. The personality has shifted and I don’t like it.”

These days, Simonon is usually to be found at his painting studio in Paddington, which he describes as “a bit like Steptoe & Son – an old mews house, a bit run-down, wooden floorboards, gas lamps, pretty old-school.” He’s currently working on a number of satirical “breakfast paintings” in which newspaper headlines have been altered to give an alternative slant on current events, as well as a series of night paintings: “They’re as moody as this album, come to think of it!”

Despite his parallel art career, Simonon is happy to be back in the fold of a touring band. “When you’re working on your own it’s difficult, because I’m quite a hard taskmaster. Most of the art I’ve done, I think: could do better. Music is a different thing because it’s a shared experience. But I get the same satisfaction when I feel I’ve offloaded something, whether that’s on to a piece of paper or canvas or into my bass-playing.”

Before The Good, The Bad & The Queen you hadn’t made music for years. How did Damon persuade you to come back?
Rhys Williamson, via email

I’d met Damon once before, at Joe Strummer’s wedding reception. Chrissie Hynde instigated a group hug between me, Strummer, her and Damon. Then maybe a year later I got this message from Damon asking if I’d like to meet up and maybe chat about doing some music. It did impress me that when Tony Blair got into power, Damon was invited to the opening party at Number 10 but turned it down, saying he wished the comrades to have a lovely party. That would have been my outlook. Anyway, that encouraged me to meet Damon. He played me a few things and we chatted – we had a lot of interests in common, we both were fascinated by English history and music hall – and within months we were recording an album.

What’s it like being part of a rhythm section with the great Tony Allen?
Graham Stephens, Kettering

It’s very difficult! It’s like somebody giving me rollerskates – and I can’t rollerskate at all. When I first started working with Tony, he said, ‘Whatever you do, don’t follow me’, because he does so many things on the drums, he’s almost like an octopus. My style is quite simple insofar as I see it like dance steps when I’m playing the bass, it’s where you can put your feet. I’m almost like the Clint Eastwood of bass playing! Richard Burton said that when he did Where Eagles Dare he was really shocked because Clint Eastwood was taking lines out of the film. Most actors are trying to get as many words in as possible and suddenly there’s this guy taking words out. So that’s my approach, to not overdo it.

How did you get Tony Visconti on board with the new album?
Russell Gilhooly, Charlton, London

Originally we had this idea of doing a London theatrical project. Instead of Flanagan and Allen it would be Simonon and Albarn. Eventually Damon said to me, ‘We need to get a producer, otherwise this record will never come out.’ Tony was quite hard to get hold of, it took me about a year to track him down. It’s interesting because I didn’t realise he was a bass player and I didn’t realise he’d worked with African drummers before, so it worked out quite well. He chucked magic dust everywhere and it all came to life.

Is working with Damon at all similar to working with Joe Strummer, or is it a completely different thing altogether?
David Durling, via Facebook

It’s a difficult one that, because working with Joe also meant working with Mick and working with Topper. There’s an open-mindedness in both situations – whoever’s got the best idea, let’s use it. The main thing is to make great music. Nobody’s taking orders from anybody. I think that would have been near impossible with The Clash, for anyone to receive orders and act on them. We were pretty feisty individuals.

There’s a picture of you hanging out with David Bowie backstage at Shea Stadium in 1982. Do you remember what you talked about?
Marcus Fry, Taunton

We spoke about Brixton, because we both grew up there. It was only a brief moment. But then five years ago, I was putting this radio show together with other members of The Clash. I wrote a letter to David Bowie to ask if he’d record something for our show and he did a Christmas message for us in the voice of Elvis!

In the past you’ve mentioned that reggae records were the main way for you to tame the bass. Which were the first reggae songs you learned to play along to and which ones remain your favourites?
Juan Pérez, via email

I guess the first was probably “MPLA” by Tapper Zukie. The Heptones’ basslines are really good – Leroy Sibbles is my favourite bass player. I listen to all types of music, but before going into the studio I like to listen to The Heptones because those basslines just skip and dance, they’re amazing.

I’ve spotted the name Sam scratched into your bass. Could you tell us who that is, and if there’s a story behind it?
Sam Goddard, via email

What I think they might be referring to is an attempt to scratch in ‘3am’ [as in Simonon’s post-Clash band, Havana 3am]. I was probably halfway through carving it into the bass when we had to go on stage or something. I’m still playing that guitar, I’ve kept that one safe. I probably got it about a year after the [Fender] Precision that I smashed. I couldn’t really tell you what year it was made or anything, it’s a tool to me. We got a few reviews in the beginning where I was singled out for having to go over to Mick to tune up the bass for me. But I didn’t care – listen mate, I’m up on stage! I had all the notes painted on to the neck of my guitar. Which actually I painted, just to set that straight, ‘cos some people thought that Mick did that. It’s what Mick calls the Paul Simonon School Of Music. I think some people think I still can’t play very well! Maybe they’re right, I dunno. But it seems to have worked so far!

What was it like to play with Bob Dylan?
Francisco Serafina, Grenada, Spain

Bob Dylan used to come to a lot of Clash shows. He used to bring his family. Recording with him was… interesting. We all turned up and Bob said, ‘I’ve got these ideas’ and he played the guitar for this one song, and we’re like, ‘OK – D, E, G, F’, going round it, and then he went, ‘Now there’s this other song’, and after that there’s another song, and after about six or seven songs he says, ‘Right, let’s do the first one again’. At that point, I can hardly remember the one we’ve just done, let alone the first one. It’s a disaster. I don’t know what the point was. Maybe there was a certain energy or outlook he wanted, I’m not really sure. Maybe he hadn’t given it too much thought. Nothing was explained.

I read that you once spent a week painting the Thames from Jeffrey Archer’s balcony. Weren’t you tempted to splatter his lounge at the same time?
Kevin Ashdown, Somerset

Well, the funny thing is, I did! I was chucking paint around and some went a bit further than I expected. I looked around and there was a Monet there, and I think maybe a few drops went on that. I did think, ‘Oh shit, what do I do now? Do I rub it out and risk making it worse?’ So I just left it. I didn’t run into him by the way, but I was very grateful that he let me use his premises as a painting studio. One could misread this if I say that I really enjoy his views. What I mean is the views outside his window, not his political views, which I don’t adhere to whatsoever.

What do you think whenever you see a stencilled slogan shirt in Top Man or somewhere like that?
John Devereux, Lewes

It doesn’t really bother me. If you want to pay whatever it costs for that, then that’s down to you. But it would probably be a lot more interesting and creative if you did one yourself. You can express yourself personally for a lot less money.

If Joe Strummer was still alive, do you think you’d be tempted to reform The Clash?
Peter Dolman, Columbus, Ohio

No. I’ve got no interest, even at the time when Joe was alive and around. Everybody seemed quite interested in the idea, but I gotta say, I wasn’t. I’d rather me and Joe worked together again in another project, rather than go the easy route and reform something that was quite special and unique to that time. I’m not really interested in getting back together in that context. It never really works, I don’t think.

It’s the 40th anniversary of London Calling next year. Do you have any plans to commemorate it?
Mike P, via email

No. I’m not interested in any of that. We did do a box set that me and Mick worked on [2013’s Sound System] and as far as I was concerned that was the be all and end all, that’s done. I don’t think you could get any better than that. But of course the record company has this thing, ‘Oh, it’s the anniversary of this…’ It’s like, so what? I’m not really interested in celebrating yesterday. I’ve got other things to do. I’m more interested in what you’re doing tomorrow rather than what you did yesterday. That’s what keeps me going, anyway.