Spencer P. Jones            'Fait Accompli'

spooky010

"Australian Album of 2003"  Patrick Donovan "The Age" EG - Melbourne

 

Reviews and Articles

Noize - Italy

La Spooky Records è un’etichetta autraliana che sta cercando di portare alla ribalta internazionale i migliori prodotti del proprio mercato interno. Se in passato è già stata prodiga di uscite, questo 2004 si rivela molto felice considerate le releases dei lavori di Spencer P. Jones e Digger & The Pussycats.
Spencer P. Jones è un personaggio di culto della scena australiana. Ha fatto parte di svariate band quali The Emotional Retards, Cuban Heels, The North 2 Alaskans, The Johnnys e Beasts Of Bourbon. Giunta la volta dell’album solista, non ha certo rinunciato a radunare un cast di musicisti di tutto rispetto. In “Fait accompli” troviamo infatti (tra gli altri) personaggi come Billy Ficca (storico drummer dei Television), Brian Ritchie dei Violent Femme, Helen Cattanach e Steve Boyle dei Moler e Matt Heydon dei Sailor. Un insieme niente male dunque.
Se ci aggiungete il mix di stili molto particolare operato da Spencer (country, blues da bar di infimo ordine, una spruzzatina di punk rock, lap steel a iosa, un tocco di folk psichedelico che fa tanto Bevis Frond e melodie notturne da perfetto crooner) il gioco è fatto. Ciò che ne viene fuori è un disco spumeggiante ed ombroso al tempo stesso, dove Jones sembra divertirsi nel gigioneggiare come un vecchio saggio, un po’ ubriacone un po’ perdente. E’ evidente in questo senso quanto sia importante l’influenza che hanno esercitato sul suo bagaglio personale autentiche istituzioni del calibro di Steve Wynn, Tom Waits, Bob Dylan e Neil Young. A tutto questo patrimonio l’artista australiano aggiunge un piglio marcatamente rock e tanta carica sgraziata.
Ne sono perfetti esempi “Wherever whatever” e “I’ll be gone”, potenziali singoli di successo se solo il mercato discografico fosse meno stupido. O la sfuriata dal gusto amaro di “I wanna hold your hand when I go to hell” e la ballata sghemba “I wrote my book”. La stessa “Enmore Blues Hotel” potrebbe essere perfetta come colonna sonora in un film di Tarantino, mentre “Up for it” ha lo stesso approccio aggressivo di Lou Reed, ma con una puzza d’alcool che aleggia nell’aria. E se “Mean Arnold” ha i tratti scanzonati del country, “Wasn’t born yesterday” è pura estasi dylaniana.
Insomma, canzoni semplici ma riflessive quelle di Spencer P. Jones. Ideali per prendersi una pausa e abbandonare la caoticità fasulla dei rapporti quotidiani.

 

Noisemaker – Germany

 - Ein kleiner Blick ins Fremdwörterbuch verrät, dass Spencer P. Jones, wohl bestens bekannt als Gitarrist und Gründungsmitglied der legendären Beasts Of Bourbon, den geneigten Zuhörer mit diesem, seinem bereits vierten Soloalbum vor vollendete Tatsachen stellt. Dagegen ist nicht das Geringste einzuwenden, ist "Fait Accompli" doch so unglaublich gut gelungen, dass es locker als kleines Meisterwerk in die australische Musikgeschichte eingehen sollte. Und auch der Rest der Welt nimmt hoffentlich Kenntnis von dieser Perle, die sich zusammensetzt aus erdigem Rock'n'Roll, bestem Dylan'schen Songwriting und dem Country-befleckten Gitarrenspiel eines Neil Young und am Ende doch einfach Spencer P. Jones pur ist. Jeder der zwölf Songs ist mindestens sehr gut, und die meisten sind noch um einiges besser. Meine Favoriten sind wenigstens im Augenblick die wunderbaren, todtraurigen Balladen "Wasn't Born Yesterday" und "When I Write My Book" und das vor Cajun/Zydeco-Sound triefende, durch und durch ironische "Mean Arnold". Aber wie gesagt, schlechte Songs sucht man hier vergebens. Dabei überrascht vor allem, dass die Scheibe wie aus einem Guss daherkommt, obwohl nicht weniger als drei Backing Bands (u.a. ehemalige Violent Femmes) bei den Aufnahmen mitwirkten. Bleibt nur zu hoffen, dass die hiesige Journaille ein wenig hilft, dieses wunderbare Werk in unseren Gefilden bekannt zu machen, anstatt irgendwelchen, von 20-jährigen Pickelfressen verbrochenen Möchtegern-Rock'n'Roll zu hypen. Ich will gerne meinen Teil dazu beitragen, indem ich jedem, dessen Horizont über von Visions und East-Pak gesponsorter Retortenscheisse hinausgeht, "Fait Accompli" wärmstens empfehle. Bestes Album in 2004 bis jetzt, keine Frage.

Mack

 

Music Australia Guide . Com

Does anyone make better rock records than Spencer P Jones? Never mind that he was part of a legendary alcohol-filled session which helped define Australian rock and roll, the Beasts of Burbon’s ‘The Axeman’s Jazz’. Singer Tex Perkins and others have been firing their souls to the incendiary inspiration of that record ever since. Never mind that Spencer has cut his own illustrious career path, through the fun punk of the 80s Johnnys to his guitar for hire roles for Paul Kelly and Renee Geyer. It’s all part of the ways and means towards Spencer’s own performances and records, filled with the growling impatient restless menace real rock and roll is made of. Recently records have mirrored or been the end product of Spencer’s latest live adventures. A man with too much music going on for his own good, this record finds Spence in front of three different line-ups, two local one in New York. But it’s Spencer who’s in the spotlight, hat on head, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, guitar in hand, telling you how life is or how he wants to imagine it. It don’t matter. It ain’t pretty. Whether he’s the predatory lover in ‘Whole Way Down, or ‘Mean Arnold’ the mean motherfuker on his way to the radio station to get his music played, you sense that Spencer and his imagination, hover between life’s real hell and one of his creation. But he’s making do. Through music. Life’s a bitch, and if you make music about it, it has to have bite. On top of everything Spencer P Jones is a songwriter to reckon with. Try to get some of these songs out of your head.

Ed.Nimmervoll

 

Mondongo Canibale – Madrid, Spain

Bueno nos encontramos con la cuarta entrega de este personaje tan peculiar llamado Spencer P. Jones, sinceramente no tenía ni la más ligera idea de que existiera, perdonar por mi ignorancia, pero por lo que se ve es toda una leyenda allá en Australia. No se como serán sus anteriores discos, pero como sean la mitad de buenos que este, joder. Esto es un pedazo de disco, cógete un paquete de cigarrillos, una botella de buen whysky y relájate sentado en un sillón, o si prefieres póntelo en el coche cuando vayas ha hacer un largo viaje, jejeje, tipo Johnny Cash. Personalmente me suena un poquito a Dylan, pero con un rollo bastante personal. Canciones tranquilas con suaves melodías, guitarras acústicas, mandolinas, teclados… solos llenos de ternura, seducción y ganas de hacer las cosas muy bien. Cada vez que lo escucho me gusta más, ya sabes, si eres amante de Dylan, Wallflowers, Iggy Pop, Neil Young… no dejes pasar ni un solo minuto e ir corriendo a por este disco.

Linoleum

 

High Bias - Austin Texas, USA

Australia's Spencer P. Jones is best known in the States (if at all) as one of the pickers in dirt rock titans the Beasts of Bourbon. But he's had a parallel solo career going for years, and Fait Accompli is his latest offering. Though it doesn't boast the often frightening intensity of the Beasts, the music here isn't all that far removed from that of Jones' day job. Country, blues and bar band rock & roll get filtered through a nicotine-and-Jack Daniels haze, like Tom Waits fronting the Rolling Stones. With Jones' snarling guitar and no-bullshit rasp leading the way, Jones writes songs about beautiful losers, except that he forgot to put in the "beautiful" part. The barfly of "Clementine" bitches about the closing of his favorite joint—"This town has turned to shit/Since Clementine's close down," he spits crossly. The dealers and down-and-outers of "Enmore Hotel Blues" include Jimmy, who "looked like Abe Vigoda at the age of 21," while the title character in "Mean Arnold," juxtaposing its spite against a George Harrisonesque slide guitar, "just got outta prison and I want to get my record heard." The hard rocking "I Wanna Hand to Hold When I Go to Hell" is self-explanatory. Jones holds no romantic affection for these folks, though ("I am not your fucking muse" he declares angrily in "Muse")—he's just telling their tales. Whether you want to take them as cautionary tales or not is up to you. About his own lot in life, the middle aged Jones hasn't a shred of regret, as the musician-on-the-road anthems "Up For It" and "Wherever & Whatever" make clear. Even when he admits "I'll be just as guilty as all the other crooks" in the shockingly tender "When I Write My Book," he's not looking for judgment, just stating the facts. Fait Accompli represents the uglier side of rock & roll, but Jones isn't about defiance or self-pity; he's simply a reporter, and these are his stories.

 Michael Toland

 

The First Church of Holy Rock and Roll - USA

Spencer, formerly of the long-departed and now-reformed Beasts of Bourbon (keep your eyes peeled for The Axeman's Jazz, the best Cramps record the Cramps never made, in the used bins), is Oz's version of Steve Wynn, and if that sounds good to you, buy this record now. He writes about being a bar-hopping fuck-up extremely eloquently; this record's lead cut, "Clementine," about a great bar that got shut down, would have improved any Green on Red album you can name. Also, his writing is as literary as Wynn's without the pretensions, which is a major bonus. Featuring Television's drummer Billy Ficca and the Violent Femme's Brian Ritchie on 2 cuts.

The Reverend

 

Heaven - Belgium

Zanger/gitarist Spencer P. Jones is al zo´n twintig jaar muzikaal actief. De Australiër was een van de oprichters van The Beasts Of Bourbon en heeft inmiddels ook een aantal solo-cd’s op zijn naam staan. Op Fait Accompli, zijn vierde, is opgenomen in New York en Melbourne, laat Jones zich begeleiden door een keur van muzikanten, van wie Brian Ritchie (Violent Femmes) en Billy Ficca (Television) de bekendsten zijn. Op zijn meest ingetogen momenten doet hij soms denken aan Paul K. Maar er is vooral veel rock en al met al zou je hem kunnen typeren als de Australische tegenhanger van Steve Wynn. Diens niveau haalt hij niet helemaal. Leuk, maar niet bijster spectaculair. Na een paar keer draaien blijkt echter dat je de plaat steeds meer gaat waarderen en uiteindelijk is er maar één conclusie: prima cd.

Kees van Wee

 

Kindamusic – the Netherlands

Een door de wol geverfde gast die Spencer P. Jones. Bijdrages op albums van Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, lid van Beasts Of Bourbon en de Johnny's. Deze laatsten werden onlangs nog geprezen door niemand minder dan Neil Young. Staat niet slecht op je cv, zelfs al ben je zelf al een middle-aged cowboy. Want dat is Spencer P. Jones, een cowboy, maar wel een met gevoel. Fait Accompli staat vol met persoonlijke strubbelingen en uitingen van de emoties des levens. Spencer is de man die je, als je toevallig met een pick-up door de stoffige Australische binnenlanden rijdt, met de gitaar onder zijn arm ziet zitten in the middle of nowhere onder een oude eenzame boom, met een gitaar in zijn hand, op een verweerde fruitkist. De wijdse omgeving fungeert dan als zijn klankkast, zijn vocalen zweven zwaarmoedig door de hete lucht. Met al de gevoelige kanten die aan zijn werk zitten vergeet ik haast te vertellen dat de muziek ook zeker zwaar rockt. Alleen op 'When I Write My Book' komt Fait Accompli in rustiger vaarwater. Even gas terug, bijkomen, om vervolgens weer hevig los te gaan. Spencer delivers, countryrock op zijn best.

Joris Heemskerk

 

8 Weekly – The Netherlands

Spencer P. Jones is al meer dan twintig jaar een bekend gezicht in de Australische muziekwereld. Hij vergaarde roem met bands als The Beast of Bourbon en The Johnnys. Over die laatste was Neil Young onlangs in een interview nog zeer lovend. De band heeft volgens hem 'a guitar sound good enough to bottle'. Altijd prettig, zo'n compliment van de Godfather of grunge.

Dat Spencer P. Jones van goede gitaren houdt, blijkt ook op zijn alweer vierde soloplaat. Alle twaalf nummers klinken anders, roepen steeds weer nieuwe associaties op, maar passen door het eigen gitaargeluid prima bij elkaar. Het nummer Wherever/Whatever doet bijvoorbeeld sterk denken aan de oude up tempo Bob Dylan. Rappend als in Subterranean Homesick Blues vergast Jones de luisteraar op een verhaal over zijn leven als muzikant: nooit rust of tijd, maar altijd over de aardkloot trekken: 'I've been around the world and back / like Cassidy and Kerouac'. Het nummer geeft een opwindend gevoel; het tempo ligt hoog en hoewel de tekst weinig positief is over het leven van een popster, besef je als luisteraar wel dat je op de bank voor de televisie toch maar erg weinig meemaakt. Na de opwinding van Wherever/Whatever volgen een aantal rustiger nummers. De trage en lome ritmes doen je dan weer terugzakken in de bank en voor je het weet ben je weer tevreden met je relaxte leventje. Waarom zou je eigenlijk reizen als hier in Nederland alles zo goed geregeld is?

Lief en gevoelig
Dat Jones en band ook lekker kunnen rocken, bewijzen ze op het pittige I Wanna Hand To Hold When I Go To Hell. De boodschap van het nummer is dat Spencer P. Jones geen liedjes wil schrijven over de mooie en lieflijke zaken in het leven, maar dat hij er wel behoefte aan heeft dat er een geliefde bij hem is als hij naar de hel gaat. Yeah! Rock 'n roll! Toegegeven, de tekst is weinig spannend, maar de muziek van het nummer is erg goed. En dat meneer Jones diep in zijn hart ook gewoon een lieve en gevoelige man is, toont hij even later in het melancholische Whole Way Down:

It don't matter what I do today
It don't matter anyway
Doesn't matter what I feel today
I've been missing all your kissing
The whole way down

En zo ontpopt de stoere rock 'n roll-held zich ineens tot een romantische troubadour. Het is symptomatisch voor Fait Accompli: zowel muzikaal als tekstueel tapt Spencer P. Jones uit vele vaatjes, maar de eenheid van het album komt nergens in het gedrang. De liedjes van Spencer P. Jones zijn geworteld in de donkere zelfkant van het bestaan in zijn geheel en van de rock 'n roll-wereld in het bijzonder. Hoezeer het hem ook gegund is, hij moet maar niet doorbreken bij het grote publiek. Romantiek als dit laat zich niet veinzen, daar moet voor worden gevoeld en geleden.

door Jan Auke Brink

 

Faster Louder

Spencer P. Jones has some stories to tell, so you better pull up a chair and give the man some goddamn respect. Fait Accompli, his fourth solo album, is a collection of sodden, overdriven songs that detail the more dank parts of life, but with an intelligence and self-awareness that makes this stand above any other "I was done wrong" album you'll hear.

This sentiment - the acknowledgement of the vicarious nature of blues/hard-time music listeners and the rejection of same - is most forcefully conveyed on Muse, towards the album's end:

I am not your fucking muse
So please don't get me confused
With what you think I am

It's true: Jones switches hats so often over the course of twelve songs that it's often hard to tell if he's taking the piss or being genuine - but either way, it only adds to the personal mythologising that's carried out through the songs. Unlike others, however, he's got the balls and the seriousness to carry it off in earnest.

On the back of the Fait Accompli booklet is a grainy, saturated picture of a hatchet, stuck in a stump. Around its base, pieces of wood - and on the left, something that could either be a burnt block or a head - lie, halved. It's a potent image that's easily applicable to the sonic stew cooked up through the forty-odd minutes of songs the image decorates. Through the album's length, the idea of being discarded or of discarding recurs with some force. Phone calls to travel agents, shoot-outs, dumpings and arse-kickings abound, over a soundtrack that veers from punk to cowpoke to grind blues. And, somehow, it all just works.

Wherever/Whatever finds Jones coming on like an overamped Dylan, namechecking Kerouac and Cassidy in a tale of journeying that's only diverted by a switchback guitar solo. It sets the scene for the rest of the album, too - the shadow of Dylan crops up here and there, but the writing never feels like forelock-tugging. It's too good for that. There's an honesty that's undiluted through this album, whether Jones is embuing characters with life or merely telling his own story. When I Write My Book, the album's most mellow song (at least until the prickly solo!) is a personal acceptance of truth. It's a rejection of lies and rejection, and a statement of fearlessness that's grounded in honesty that's not overwrought or crass. It's breathtakingly simple, but devastating, all the more so because you get a sense that it's Jones at his most naked. Similarly, The Whole Way Down - a widescreen tale of loss and forgotten days - hits home with the force of a slide-lined haymaker. These are songs you'll be playing in a couple of years.

I Wanna Hand To Hold When I Go To Hell is Fait Accompli's hidden gem. It begins with a chiming guitar overture before mutating into a more pissed-off AC/DC tune, replete with Bon Scott sneer. And then, the chorus kicks in - no more slashing chords, but tight, melodic guitar work and surf party "ooh-eee-ooh"s. It's fabulous, and possesses a grunty playfulness that's matched only by Mean Arnold, a well-delivered arse-kicking of a certain national broadcaster's former programmer that blends steel-caps, musical dedication and the tastiest slide soloing this side of a George Harrison record.

There's three sets of musos backing Jones's steel-wool guitar on Fait Accompli; Cow Penalty, The Beeks and The Escape Committee. Despite The Beeks' claiming a Television bod and a Violent Femmes player amongst their number, it's The Escape Committee - the newest band - who feature most prominently through the disc. And rightly so - it's this ensemble that seems to provide the most powerful channel for his muse. There's a sense of overamping, of cowpoke swagger that sits well with the louche, tripping lyricism of songs like Wasn't Born Yesterday. At once laid-back and knuckle-crackingly tense, there's a great, breathing feel on show here that just works.

Fait Accompli is, simply, a great album. It could only be improved if it came with a pack of cigarettes and some whiskey. That way, you'd have a complete evening in one hit.

Luke Martin

 

Triggerfish – Germany

Ein kleiner Blick ins Fremdwörterbuch verrät, dass Spencer P. Jones, wohl bestens bekannt als Gitarrist und Gründungsmitglied der legendären Beasts Of Bourbon, den geneigten Zuhörer mit diesem, seinem bereits vierten Soloalbum vor vollendete Tatsachen stellt.

Dagegen ist nicht das Geringste einzuwenden, ist "Fait Accompli" doch so unglaublich gut gelungen, dass es locker als kleines Meisterwerk in die zugegeben nicht überall bedeutende australische Musikgeschichte eingehen sollte. Und auch der Rest der Welt nimmt hoffentlich Kenntnis von dieser Perle, die sich zusammensetzt aus erdigem Rock'n'Roll, bestem Dylan'schen Songwriting und dem Country-befleckten Gitarrenspiel eines Neil Young und am Ende doch einfach Spencer P. Jones pur ist. Jeder der zwölf Songs ist mindestens sehr gut, und die meisten sind noch um einiges besser. Meine Favoriten sind wenigstens im Augenblick die wunderbaren, todtraurigen Balladen "Wasn't Born Yesterday" und "When I Write My Book" und das vor Cajun/Zydeco-Sound triefende, durch und durch ironische "Mean Arnold". Aber wie gesagt, schlechte Songs sucht man hier vergebens. Dabei überrascht vor allem, dass die Scheibe wie aus einem Guss daherkommt, obwohl nicht weniger als drei Backing Bands (u.a. ehemalige Violent Femmes) mit von der Partie sind.

Bleibt nur zu hoffen, dass die hiesige Journaille ein wenig hilft, dieses wunderbare Werk in unseren Gefilden bekannt zu machen, anstatt irgendwelchen, von 20-jährigen Pickelfressen verbrochenen Möchtegern-Rock'n'Roll zu hypen. Ich will gerne meinen Teil dazu beitragen, indem ich jedem, dessen Horizont über von Visions und East-Pak gesponsorter Retortenscheisse hinausgeht, "Fait Accompli" wärmstens empfehle. Bestes Album in 2004 bis jetzt, keine Frage.

 Heiner Eden

 

Rip It Up - Adelaide

If the phrase, Spencer P Jones, one of Australia¹s greatest songwriters and guitar players, is back with another class-act album packed with memorable tunes, sounds familiar, it bloody should. The record ain’t broken, but Spencer sure fixes to deliver every time, right out of the box. And yes, he’s gone and done it again with Fait Accompli.
Featuring not one but three backing bands (old stalwarts Cow Penalty, The Beeks, his New York connection featuring Violent Femme Brian Ritchie on bass and Billy Ficca on drums, and new, superior backing band, The Escape Committee), Spencer takes on aggressive, punkish rock (Waiting For The Man-ish belter Up For It, vitriolic Muse ["I am not your fucking muse,"] and balls-out anti-sentimental fire of I Wanna Hand To Hold When I Go To Hell), catchy-as-fuck and unexpected potential singles (such as the shuffling I’ll Be Gone and the hard-to-resist knee-slapper Wherever & Whatever, and what a solo), wry social observation (the reflective rocker, Clementine, which suggests things just ain’t been the same, "since Clementine’s [an intimate Melbourne coffee shop] closed down," the menacing and cold ode to modern Mafia, Enmore Hotel Blues (a cousin of the Beasts’ Bad Revisited), the killer, zydeco-inflected Mean Arnold, aimed point blank at ex-Triple J programmer Arnold Frollows and written before the bastard moved on), and a great handful of thought-provoking, rootsy laments (the effectively unapologetic confessional, White Album meets lap steel-led When I Write My Book, The Whole Way Down (also featuring tasty lap steel, ­ whaddya expect from the man who carved a solo in stone for Paul Kelly’s How To Make Gravy?), the groovy Destiny Minus You and down-mouthed Wasn’t Born Yesterday).
If there’s anything consistently striking about Spencers’ work it’s the sheer quality of his tunes. Several over-rated, would-be songwriting legends could take a whole chapter out of this man’s book. Everything’s loaded with hooks, his double-edged lyrics are lined with gold, ring true and give him a critical reason to sing (Wherever & Whatever, just to pick one), the vocals are honest, and the guitar accompaniment is always first class. What can I say, I’ve been a fan of this guy’s work for 20-years (since The Johnnys), whether he’s been in vogue or not ­ and every record gives me a dozen new reasons to stay that way. Honestly, how many people can you say that about? He’s one of the very best this country has to offer ­ and this neither rehashes nor reheats previous glories to grab the golden ring. Bless this man, he’s a national treasure ­ and, if you want a record you’ll love even more with every listen, get yourself a copy of Fait Accompli.

Nazz (gga)

 

Time Off – Brisbane, Australia

Of all the legendary Australian guitarist’s solo albums, this one sounds most like 1994’s Rumour Of Death. The hard luck, tough love stories on Fait Accompli are as good as that high water mark and it has that same on-the-road feel.

It’s remarkably consistent considering three different bands played the songs. Two of the Cow Penalty ones are absolute killers – slide-fuelled ‘Whole Way Down’ and sharp-tongued ‘Muse’. The Beeks (Jones with Violent Femmes’ Brian Ritchie, Television’s Billy Ficca and Moler’s Steve Boyle) deliver the guitar-heavy ‘Up For It’ and countryesque ‘I’ll Be Gone’.

Latest incarnation The Escape Committee back up Jones’s searing leads well (‘Clementine’, ‘Destiny Minus You’) and leave plenty of space when required (‘When I Write My Book’ and ‘Mean Arnold’).

Sonic Sally

 

The Age ‘EG’ Melbourne, Australia

Today’s rockers could learn a thing or two from the (New Zealand-born) Aussie godfather. While the kids try to play as loud and fast as possible, and many in their 40s go through the motions and live off former glories, Spencer P. Jones is making the best music of his career. After honing his sound in bands such as the Johnnys and the Beasts of Bourbon, Jones’s sound is characterised by insightful lyrics and economical, dense and foreboding rock. He jumps out of the gates with renewed vigour, courtesy of his new band the Escape Committee, on the menacing Clementine, using the closing of his local coffee shop as a metaphor for hard times. From there he pulls on the reins and broadens the textures and moods with honest, reflective songs Wherever/Whatever, Muse, Wasn’t born Yesterday and When I Write My Book, which includes what could be the epitaph on his grave: “There’ll be no regrets/ I’m gonna tell the truth whoever it upsets.” Not just the best Australian rock record of the year, but one of the best rock releases worldwide.

Patrick Donovan

 

Inpress – Melbourne, Australia

Largely regarded as a living legend, Spencer P. Jones has served time in bands such as The Johnny’s (recently praised by Neil Young), and the mighty pub-rockers Beasts of Bourbon.But arguably Jones’ best work has been done solo and Fait Accompli is proof of that. This grungey, dirty, story-telling rock is infused with dust from the road, smoke from the cigarettes and a gravely voice that is as taunting and playful as Dylan’s. Two years on from his last release, The Lost Anxiety Tapes, Jones again uses back-up band Cow Penalty, along with The Beeks (Brian Ritchie from the Violent Femmes and Billy Ficca of Television) and the Escape Committee to create his bluesy tales of cheap motels, prison breaks, the Enmore Hotel, and wanting a hand to hold when he goes to hell.

The ironic Mean Arnold is a gloriously comic swipe at ex-Triple J programmer Arnold Frolows, who once upon a time refused to play Jones on the radio, yet now his tune I Want A Hand To Hold When I Go To Hell (complete with Beach Boys-sounding background harmonies) is being heard broadcast from that very frequency. Clementine is young and fun and catchy with echoey vocals and scuzzy guitars and Muse is so deliberate in intent (“I am not your fucking muse / I am not your lame excuse”) it is reminiscent of Dylan’s own hot and cold emotions in the similarly themed 4^th Time Around.

Fait Accompli glows with huge measures of both style and substance illuminated by the garish neon lights of old fashioned country fun.

Kate Geyer

 

The Advertiser – Adelaide, Australia

 

IN the late '80s when Spencer P. Jones paused amid the Johnnys' wrenching guitar solos to wave at the crowd, you just knew this was a cowboy waiting to trigger his own foray.

Never mind the white heat he created for Beasts of Bourbon, or the finesse of his tours with Paul Kelly – on his fourth album, Jones looks back to the heady, wide guitar soundscapes which put the Johnnys so tall in the saddle.

In Wherever/Whatever, he details informalities of time and place on the road, never thinking ahead. It is timely this album comes the month after Slim Dusty's passing, for this is the state of Australian country music from the view of one of its fringe dwellers; almost always acknowledged as a rocker.

But Jones plays country like Neil Young plays folk or like Iggy delivers pop, all grit and guitar. Just look to I Wanna Hand to Hold When I go to Hell.

 

Mike Gribble

 

Howzat – Inpress, Australia

You Gotta Have Fait

Spencer P. Jones is another rock 'n' roll survivor. His debut solo album, back in 1994, was called Rumour Of Death, but I'm pleased to report that he outlasted former JJJ programmer Arnold Frollows. Spencer takes a swipe at Frollows on his new album, Fait Accompli (on Spooky Records), with a track called Mean Arnold. Spencer is just one of the acts deserving of more play on the national broadcaster. Fait Accompli finds him in fine form, calling on the services of three of his bands - The Beeks (including Violent Femme Brian Richie), Cow Penalty (featuring long-time collaborator Matt Heydon) and Escape Committee (featuring Moler's Helen Cattanach). Spencer is like a dirtier Dylan, a fine storyteller, with a voice that's got plenty of miles on the clock. On Wasn't Born Yesterday, he declares: "I was press-ganged into this thankless career/Hey now, don't you be so dour, don't you be so sour/Just gimme back my power/Don't say this is my final hour." Up For It is the story of his life, packed into one big night. "My name is Spencer/My parents called me that in the Te Awamutu hospital a long time back/Feel so awake, I can't get to bed/Maybe a drink would hit the nail on the head … here comes Michelle with a Gitane in her hand/From Minnesota to see her favorite band/She's only 20, she can't get in the door/What a way to meet a guy who's 44/She's up for it, she's up for it …" There's some rock 'n' roll bravado, but Spencer also shows some signs of his own mortality on I Wanna Hand To Hold When I Go To Hell. If ever there was any doubt, after his work with The Johnnys and Beasts Of Bourbon, the strength of Fait Accompli will ensure that Spencer P. Jones goes straight to rock 'n' roll heaven.

 

Jeff Jenkins

 

I-94 Bar

Quick explanation for the uninitiated: Spencer P. Jones has attained the sort of iconic indie status of Australasian National Living Treasure that might not keep him in the lap of luxury, but will always provide an audience and a special place in its collective musical heart. And while there's a sympathetic label like Spooky (home to his last three releases), there'll always be an outlet for albums as good as this.

The former Johnnys member (they more or less appropriated cowpunk in Australia in the early '80s - and spawned dozens of impersonators) is now back in the saddle with a reconstituted Beasts of Bourbon. And while we all live in hope of that nasty little aggregation coming up with another long player and something more sustainable than a few warm-up pub dates and festival shows, Spence's own solo efforts with various backing bands shouldn't be disregarded.

The man seems to casually spit out the sort of albums every year or two that most of his contemporaries wish they had in them. This is another of them. "Fait Accompli" finds Jones in characteristic dark, dirty and down mode. Sparse, bluesy tales of too much abuse and too many nights spent in the gutter, looking up at the stars. Three bands provide the backing - Cow Penalty (from the last album, "The Lost Anxiety Tapes"), the US-based Beeks (Brian Ritchie from the Violent Femmes and Billy Ficca of Television) and Escape Committee (whose ranks include Helen Cattanach from Moler).

The common thread is a greasy appropriation of the blues and the band leader's distinctive drawl and scuzzy lead guitar. "Fait Accompli" is a disc of character and characters. "Mean Arnold" is the psychotic ex-con with a steel plate in his head who's making a beeline for the local radio station, using all means available to secure airplay for his song. It drips in irony with its jaunty backing and black lyrics. You could almost hear Charlie Manson whistling along if he ever makes it out. "Enmore Hotel Blues" is the sordid tale of Jimmy, a dealer and loser who ends up entrapped by the law, delivered in a disembodied tone against a wall of buzzy guitars.

"Muse" is up there with Dylan's "I Don't Believe You" for vindictive lyrical sentiment, albeit to a more dangerous sounding blues beat that the Zimm ever summoned up. Anyone lucky enough to grab a copy of the "Spooky Bootleg Tapes Volume One" (a collection of unheard cuts from Melbourne's musical underbelly) would have already had a taste of "Up For It", the "Waiting For My Man" cop that was put to tape in New York City, naturally enough. It sounds re-mixed here, but still kills.

"I Wanna Hand to Hold When I Go To Hell" is the Raw Power Stooges meeting the Beach Boys with no-one getting out in a well enough state to compare notes. "Wherever/Whatever" is a sleazy fast country shuffle, while the lyrically brilliant "When I Write My Book" is clean sounding and surely meritorious of significant radio airtime. The irony within makes this a centrepiece of the album for mine, in an album of highs.

Spencer P. Jones wraps his narratives in smokey, rocking clothes. Nothing fancy about the mode of dress, but its simplicity makes "Fait Accompli" a very effective effort. –

The Barman

 

 

 

The Johnnys and Jones - The Age ‘Sticky Carpet’, Melbourne

Neil Young would have met thousands of musicians on his travels, but there was only one he wanted to know about in his phone interview with EG last week. "Those Johnnys still kickin' 'round?" he asked. "They shoulda bottled their sound right there." The Johnnys' Spencer P. Jones's new album, Fait Accompli, is one of his finest works. Its catchiest song is Mean Arnold, about a jailbird who goes after former Triple J program director Arnold Frollows because he wouldn't play his album. And yes, Jones is one of many great musicians Frollows refused to play on the national broadcaster because they sounded "too gritty".

Jones admits that after years of playing, he knows how to make a great rock album. "I watch those 'greatest albums ever made' shows and think, 'Damn, don't give away that information.' "

Also, although the song Whatever/Whenever was written with his recently born son Alvin in mind, Jones says he avoids writing gushy kids' songs. "Whenever I hear a song like that, it just makes me want to gag - like, keep it to yourself. We wanna rock and we wanna know about the facts of rock." He says the message in that song is a universal warning to "be good". Jones is also playing again with the Beasts of Bourbon, but he doesn't know if there'll be a new studio album. He launches Fait Accompli tomorrow night at Ding Dong, city

Patrick Donovan
 

Beat magazine - Australia

“I don’t wanna sing no song that makes everybody squirm,” barks Spencer P Jones halfway through his new album. And what a blessing he sticks fast to this decree of resisting cornball love songs; the closest he’s getting this time around is “I’ve been missing all your kissing/The whole way down.”

Having used a horn section that seemingly stretched for miles with the Last Gasp, and a standard sized band for Cow Penalty’s relatively sombre The Lost Anxiety Tapes, this time Jones refreshes the ranks with no less than three three pieces as his backing bands to execute this latest enjoyable romp. Cow Penalty are joined by The Beeks and The Escape Committee, but all in all it’s Jones’ creed of reverb fueled honk and frictitious guitar breaks that let you know this is his album. Even during the restrained moments your stereo speakers are pumped with the buzz of what could be a row of guitar pedals cooling off, or Jones’ tongue foxing to spit his next caustic lyric. There’s a sense of superstition, of doom, of Jones being the man who knows too much and understands even more, and he’s telling tales of friends in low places, of enemies he’s gonna rat on. But it’s his trip, his raves, his self-mythologisingy, and though at one point he likens his subterranean troubadour ways to Kerouac, if anybody’s going to tell Jones’ story, it’ll be Jones. In When I Write My Book, he waxes that “When I write my script there’d be no revenge/Just the facts in print whoever it offends.” Further, in Muse, he rants against others mining his experiences for art or entertainment. In what could be a riot grrrl manifesto (strange but true) , he sneers, “I am not your cherry bomb/I am not your Peyton Place/I am not your long lost love/I am not your bag of waste/I am not your good old days/I am not your fucking muse”, before cranking out a killer guitar outro. Elsewhere, there’s odes to long lost pubs and long gone losers. Wherever & Whatever is a speedy shuffle about a nearly missed gig, and Mean Arnold is a lovely country tinged tale about an ex-con with a head full of steel plate who demands to have his songs played on the airwaves. There’s extra players roped in for keyboard, harmony and piano accordion parts, ensuring that big band feel has your hips shaking and partner grabbing, even when Jones hits kick back mode. Fait Accompli is another quality Jones album,  and what further makes you crave it like salt and grease on a bloodshot Sunday morning, is that no-one else on the local scene is making rock n roll records that sound and feel like this.