Spencer P. Jones: The heart, and soul (and liver), of The Beast.

His own musical history, whether under his own name, in bands such as The Johnnys and Hell To Pay, or as sometime sideman to the likes of Paul Kelly and Chris Bailey all make Spencer P. Jones a name to be respected.

He’s also one of only two – the other being the inimitable Tex Perkins – to make it through the 30 years and three distinct lineups of ragged glory that is The Beasts Of Bourbon. This also means he gets to do the triple shift as the band run through their checkered history and personnel over consecutive nights, but he’s typically laconic and matter-of-fact about making it this far.“Of course you never thought that far ahead. But I don’t see why we can’t keep doing it - as long as we’re all still alive, and sort of well,” Mr Jones deadpans down the line. Thing is, the ‘still alive’ element might only be half joking. The Beasts have always gone in hard, and there’s been some burn outs and lineup implosions through their history.

When presented with the facts, the guitarist lets out a coughing laugh: “Yeah, it is a fucking miracle really, isn’t it?,” before getting a bit of perspective:  “There is a lot of bullshit about this band. Gossip, rumour - and somewhere along the line that becomes fact."

Spencer illustration courtesy Paul Rebec.

“But OK, there’s a bit of notoriety, maybe rightly. And sure, one of our members has spent some time in jail, but that’s his issue. And I reckon we’re not the only band where that’s the case.” There’s a knowing chuckle. “But looking back, The Beasts is probably one of the few things in most of our lives that’s turned out pretty much effortless, and we can just keep coming back to it. It’s the old hot rod thing - it’s in the garage, we take it out for a run every few years. Maybe take some things off or bolt on some new ones, give it a bit of a polish, and off we go. You just turn over the V8 every so often.”

The flipside of the entanglements is that things sometimes just crumble into place for this band. Performances of the various eras of Beasts have come together lately through a mixture of accident and design. The most unlikely revival - that of the original 1983 ensemble featuring Kim Salmon, fellow then-Scientist Boris Sujdovic, and a man of many myths and stories in his own right, James Baker on drums – put back together for The Drones-curated All Tomorrow Parties event.

By coincidence, Jones and Baker were putting together what would become The Nothing Butts record with Gareth Liddiard and Fiona Kitschin, but weren’t the first to know about it. “Gareth never said anything to me or James about that idea. The ATP people went to Kim first before anybody else - and offered him a very princely sum which made him happy,” Jones explains with a smirk. “It was like a focus from a whole different side, and it worked out. Possibly the only person who might have been offended was (later Beast) Charlie (Owen), but he was cool about it – I think he quite liked the idea of seeing that version too.”

“That was meant to be a one-off - and then we got offered the Iggy Pop tour, and Charlie couldn’t do one of the shows – he was off with Jimmy Barnes opening for Bruce Springsteen, as you do. Not the sort of gig you can knock back,” he adds drily. “So we asked Charlie if it was OK to get Kim in for that. He was OK with it – well, relieved he was off the hook.”

 

Jones continues to conclusion: “These shows, we’ve just decided to be a bit more organised. It’s not like Tex and I got together and fiendishly conjured something up. It's all been too complicated to be a plan.” But it does come down to Spencer and Perkins doing triple duty, covering the whole Beasts catalogue of sodden blues with occasional outbreaks of romance, drug smuggling, and blood. “Ah, you gotta pay the troll if you want to rock and roll,” he philosophises. And admits there’s a different dynamic for him in each of the band’s formations. “Oh yeah, each ‘band’ does feel a little different – whether that’s me just playing slide on some songs some nights, or some things in the way Charlie and I work, which is different to the way I play off Kim and the way he does things – and even they’ve changed a bit over the years.”    

He discusses and corrects with himself: “Have I got a favourite child among the lineups? I don’t think so. Wait, maybe – sometimes. I’ve played on a lot of records over the years,” he understates.  “I still think (Beasts’ debut) The Axeman’s Jazz is a great record, The Low Road is a great record. And I think Gone and Little Animals are pretty good records – the last one could have been a bit longer. But I’m just second guessing,” he admits.

Even after 30 years, there’s still something that keeps them coming back: “Absolutely – we can still find something in these songs. Maybe because it’s always been that part-time, ‘other thing’ most of us do, sometimes.”

Mr Jones’ has more in the diary once this Beasts excursion is done. There’s a solo record done where he plays just about everything on it, as well as producing “a real pop record” for Ally Spazzy that “just needs a couple more songs”, and…“I’m doing another Escape Committee record – that’s really my main band now. But some of them are a bit upset that Western Australian couple (Liddiard and Kitschin) horned in and took some the songs they never got the chance to record. I might have to do some peacemaking.”