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Spencer P. Jones and the Last Gasp 'The Last Gasp'
spooky001
"Australian Album of 2000" Patrick Donovan "The Age" EG - Melbourne
A cohesive set of songs, The Last Gasp has all the marks of a classic album. ****1/2 - Time Off - Brisbane
"Spencer and his arse-kicking 10-piece big band sneer, snarl, leer, growl and canoodle through a dozen swaggering songs that live up to the great mans legend, and are guaranteed to put grit in the gut and light a flame under even the sorriest of arses." **** 1/2 - Rip It Up - Adelaide
The Last Gasp is a fine record. Brimming with spite, scorn, hatred, the outlaw mentality and a thank you to Melbournes Hottest Strippers. In fact there is enough slime and sleaze to put Harpic out of business Bronius Zumeris - BEAT MAGAZINE Album of The Week. - Melbourne
Reviews and Articles THE RAWK - Nashville THE LAST GASP - Spencer P. Jones
"They just don't make 'em like that any more." I'll PUKE if
I ever hear another greybeard (and I got more than a few, uh, silver threads up
top my DAMN self) declaiming about how the Age of the Great Rawwwk Album is
over, done, finished. "Astral Weeks," "Pet Sounds,"
"Exile On Main St.," [insert your GRA of choice here] - who's making
albums today with that kind of unity of sound, uh, concept, and, uh, execution?
While I'd argue that Wilco's "Being There" fits the bill, I've got an
even more recent (and better still, MORE OBSCURE) example for ya - this KILLER
twelve-tracker by a journeyman muso known to few outside his native Australia.
Spencer P. Jones is definitely one of the unsung (on these shores,
anyway) heroes of the post-punk rawwwk Renaissance that swept Oz in the
eighties, while here Stateside we were enduring the era of MTV, big hair 'n'
power ballads. The Johnnys, the Beasts of Bourbon (an Aussie supergroup that
also included ex-Scientists Kim Salmon and Boris Sudjovic, then-current Hoodoo
Guru James Baker - no relation to the Reagan-era handgun victim - and future
Cruel Sea front guy Tex Perkins), and the Stones-y Hell to Pay are all part of
Mr. Jones' CV. More recently, he's toured Europe with Noo Yawk rocker Sonny
Vincent in a band that also included ex-Stooge Scott Asheton, and recorded a
solo album ("Rumour of Death") that I haven't heard.
How to begin to describe the sound of this record? It's a dense,
claustrophobic wall of sound, an atmosphere rife with, uh, chemically-enhanced
desperation. When Spencer sings "We gotta get outta this place" toward
the end of "Stolen Car Serenade," you 1) know what he's talkin' 'bout
has NOTHING whatsoever to do with the Animals, and 2) believe that he means what
he's saying, 'cos you've been LIVING it as the song's relentless guitar riff
builds and builds and BUILDS the tension just like the one in the Stones'
"Last Time" did. This ain't no pristine "state-o'-the-art"
STEELY DAN record or anything like that. Instead, the sound is clotted,
sprawling, instruments swallowing each other up in an amorphous mass, one or
another periodically fighting its way out of the mix - a wash of Booker
T./"Blonde On Blonde" organ here, a slice of greasy guitar there. The
blaring horn section punctuates and highlights the music, but the maelstrom of
sound underneath is what gives "The Last Gasp" its VIBE.
"Awright. Say WHAT?" Things kick off with "Terrorize
Your Friends," an intriguing mlange of Bowie's "Heroes,"
"96 Tears," circus calliope music, "Exile on Main St."
horns, and that eighties poptoon "Don't You Want Me Baby" by I forget
who, that sounds like a fuckin' mess on paper but just JELLS perfectly on disc,
the perfect setting for a tale of junkie woe: "The drugs in your apartment
made an awful mess, it wasn't good for you when...Face down in the driveway when
your lips turned blue, the locals take your wallet." "Trick My Boat
Wrong" is a dramatic minor key blues of titanic intensity with screaming
banshee/trainwhistle slide guitar and a raw-throated Jones vocal that sounds
like late-period Dylan filtered through Joe Strummer. "You've Peaked
Baby" is a swirling morass of sound with a hypnotically monotonous guitar
riff broken up by Memphis Horns-style hits. "What's Got Into Him?"
starts out with a "White Light/White Heat" Velvets-like wall of
amphetamine guitar noise, then settles into a groove straight out of mid-period
(say around "New Values" time) Iggy, featuring a slippery slide break
and delirious Little Richard-cum-Cecil Taylor piano tinklage. "Remember
back in Amsterdam?" indeed. Jones even pulls the neat trick of transforming
Richard Hell's "Time" into a horn-driven rawwwk anthem.
"Albino Faye" is a crunchingly heavy, clangorously metallic
slice of blooze, the guitars bearing down hard on every beat, with a lowdown and
dirty baritone sax solo thrown into the bargain. "Your Pretty Face (Is Goin'
to Waukegan)" is a garage-punk stomper that uses horns in place of Farfisa
and sports an OUT blues guitar solo worthy of Robert Quine at his most twisted.
"You bein' so slow it hurts my eyes," growls mad S.P. before
consigning his woman to Illinois exile. Andre Williams' fervently feelthy
"Let Me Put It In" (the punchline: "...let me put in a BID for
your love," HAHAHAHAHAHA) is next, and the band does it up fine, in the
manner of the Mar-Keys playing at a Dixieland funeral. Then it's time for my
personal pick hit, "These Days," an oddly lyrical postcard from the
trough of despond that finds the sly ass-man of "Let Me Put It In"
remorsefully declaring, "I made a pitch for you...and I fucked up."
Things start winding down with "Negative" (a nifty garage-surf
instrumental penned by another Aussie guitar legend, Charlie Owen, ex-New
Christ/Divinyl and frequent collaborator with both Tex Perkins and moody
singer/ivory-tinkler Louis Tillett), then gallop to the finish with "Pretty
Neck" and the eminently un-PC sentiment, "Sure have a pretty neck - be
a shame if it got broke," sung against a groove that could be the final
lost outtake from "Funhouse."
In a just world, this record would establish Spencer P. Jones a
household name on three continents. At the very least, it should make
discriminating U.S. listeners (which must include YOU, if you've read this far)
realize that there's a lot more to Antipodean rock'n'roll than the post-Radio
Birdman Detroit-punk racket for which Oz is justifiably recognized (and if you
haven't investigated bands like the New Christs, the Celibate Rifles, Brother
Brick, the Powder Monkeys, and Asteroid B-612...well, ya NEED to, mate). Ken
Rawk Cargo Records - Germany
**Demnchst
erhltlich!** [eng] yep! Spencers Second Solo-album With The Creme De La Creme
Of Australias Music Scene. The Ex-beasts Of Bourbon Guitarist Mixes Whiskey-bar
Coolness With Garage blues. So You Know This Is As Cool As Mudhoney Could Get!!!
[ger] auf Seinem Zweiten Solo-album Versammelt Der Gitarrist Der Legendren
Beast Of Bourbon Wieder Die Creme De La Creme Der Australischen Musikszene Um
Sich Und Bannt 12 Grandiose Tracks Auf Cd. Die ''whiskey Bar''-coolness Der
Beasts Trifft Auf Die Garage-attitde Der Dirtbombs Und Den Blues Eines Andrew
Williams (nicht Verwunderlich, Waren Spencer Und Seine Truppe William's
Backing-band Auf Dessen Australien Tour!!).
IN-SITE
SPENCER
P JONES (The Last Gasp): While his Beasts Of Bourbon buddy Tex has gone all cool
and laidback on us guitarist Spencer P Jones has gone straight for the rock and
roll jugular that made his name in both the Beasts and the Johnnies. Spence
released his own cool laidback solo album 'Rumour Of Death' six years ago on Red
Eye (a fabulous record I still play regularly). He's been fronting his own band
The Last Gasp, and playing with the Beasts, Paul Kelly and Renee Geyer in
between. This album takes Spence back to his rock roots, turns up the aggression
meter, fills a studio with guitars, brass and keyboards and forces Spence the
vocalist to try to make himself heard in the mayhem, like a drowning man in a
storm. It's a position he's put himself in deliberately and willingly, knowing
the impact it makes.
ALBUM
OF THE WEEK Beat Magazine Spencer
P.Jones and his cast of thousands, well fifteen actually, have come up with a
bombastic sonic assault unlike what has been heard since the Laughing Clowns
went through their Big Band phase. And
what a cast it is. Just look at the
photo on the sleeve and there he is. The
King Pin surrounded by his henchmen. Most of the faces are recognisable. Admirers will pass knowledgeable comments and salute the
Melbourne Mafia record of 2000. Likewise,
critics will pass it off with distain as another record by the usual low-life
wannabees and C list indie chancers. Be that as it may "The Last Gasp" is a fine record.
Brimming with spite, scorn, hatred, the outlaw mentality and a thankyou
to Melbourne's Hottest Strippers. In
fact there is enough slime and sleaze to put Harpic out of business. All
lovingly produced by "the filthy" Tony Cohen and Mr Jones himself.
From the opening Terrorise Your Friends to the closing Pretty Neck, Spencer and Co. hastily trawl through the mire with
quickfire succession with only the Andre Williams cover, Let Me Put It In, slinking along at a more lugubrious pace. Another
excellent cover, the Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Time and the Charlie Owen penned Negative are the other non-Spencer penned tracks. Ever with a sense
of fun, Spencer even uses a snippet of The Human League's Don't You Want Me on Terrorize
Your Friends and elsewhere remind us of The Angels with the exultation
"We got to get out of this place". You've Peaked Baby could be applied to any situation with its
vicious diatribe as could What's Got Into
Him? In fact almost every track is quite black. What saves it from falling into a pit of self-importance and
self-aggrandisement is the warts and all wall of sound that has been achieved
and the never take a backward step attitude.
If the word was a kinder place Spencer would be telling his bank manager
to "let me put it in" in terms of monies accrued from sales.
But the world isn't like that so Spencer will have to make do playing to
a bunch of rabid fans and hopefully continue releasing quality music undaunted. BRONIUS ZUMERIS
In the world scheme of things Australia is known for its passionate rock and rolling, and this is one of the great Australian rock albums. Somewhere in the mid Seventies Australian rock forged an invisible bond with adrenalin pumping New York rock - bands like the New York Dolls, the Cramps and the Fleshtones - fuelling music like Radio Birdman, Birthday Party and the Beasts Of Bourbon. This record is part of that. Spencer P Jones himself arrived in Australia from New Zealand, and distinguished himself in the early Eighties with the Johnnies and as one of founding Beasts of Bourbon. Today, with another of the Beast alumni Charlie Owens, he's one of Australian rock's most prominent and in-demand guitarists, currently a regular Paul Kelly Band member. Back in '94 Spence released a growling, introspective country rock album, 'Rumour Of Death', a little unsure about the sound of his own voice but backing his vocals with strong songwriting, sparce arrangements, and a great performance. Six years on he's comfortable with the sound of his voice. He's kept up his own band, in between playing guitar for others. Six years on 'The Last Gasp' songs found him in an angry, aggressive mood. Things were happening in his personal life which he needed to expel. When the chance came to put them on record he was ready. The CD sounds like what it is, a studio full of musicians, two blaring guitars, bass, drums, brass section, organ and piano, all at it around Spence's characteristic voice. You can feel the smoky bar rooms this music was born in. The atmosphere is thick with music and attitude. Most of the songs are Spencer's own. The exceptions are as important as the rest. Spencer's attitude to cover versions is that you play other people's songs either out of respect, or because you want to turn people on to great music you've discovered. The respect song on 'The Last Gasp' is 'Time', by 70s New York legend Richard Hell. Two other songs are by Mick Collins, a modern day New York musician Spence is a huge fan of. Collins' 'Let Me Put It In' is an absolute rock gem, kinda-dirty kinda-funny . His championship of two New York rocks from decades apart inside his own music tells you that Spencer P Jones is no fashion statement. When you hear real rock you know it. And this is it. Ed.Nimmervoll Rip It Up - Adelaide
Right
from the open gambit of the strikingly Heroes-ish intro to Dont
Terrorise Your Friends augmented by a cheesy carnival descending organ
run from Kieran Box, peppered by sassy, full-bollock horn-section flourishes and
charmingly coda-d by a snippet of Human Leagues Dont You Want Me Baby?
- its clear Spencer P Jones is back to take care of rocknroll business.
It may only be his second solo album but when you consider this highly
influential roots-rockers career spans more years than even hed
care to mention and a list of releases that reads like the whos who of
great Australian music.
Spencer and his arse-kicking 10-piece big band sneer, snarl, leer, growl
and canoodle through a dozen swaggering songs that live up to the great mans
legend, and are guaranteed to put grit in the gut and light a flame under even
the sorriest of arses. Theres smatterings of
Spencers previous glories (including the odd tip of the big white Stetson to
his previous work with the Johnnys, Beasts Of Bourbon, Paul Kelly and Andre
Williams) but his newest sound is both a fresh blast of air and a significant
resurrection of the dying artform once known as the king of all it surveyed:
rocknroll. Well guess what kids? Spencers dragging it back into vogue,
kicking and screaming. And youre going to love it. Lyrically Spencer seems to be
having a ball, shooting holes into fakers, spinning stories luring the ladies to
the back room and making and singing it all with either ciggie-blasted cool
menace or a big ol ragged heart (that distinctive melodious drawl coming on
like an outlaw Paul Kelly). Under the careful ears of Tony Cohen, his lead
guitars constantly reach out for intangible magic against from-the-hip
gunslinger rhythm guitars, covered by a no-muss, no-fuss, four on the floor rockin bass and drum team (Brian Hooper and Des Hefner)
and taken to new shot-full-of-soul heights by the big band. The highlights include: the searing
instrumental Negative (written by Charlie Owen), the bruising
bunch-of-fives rockers Trick My Boat Wrong, Youve Peaked Baby
and Pretty Neck, lurching, thunderous beast Albino Faye, classic
right-on-the-money, world-weary Spencer opening right up on These Days
(think Execution Day), and using his divine skill for breathing pure
Spence into any song he covers (stomping through Black Tops Ill Make
You Happy-ish sleaze rocker Your Pretty Face; the salacious,
lascivious mischief of Andre Williams Let Me Put It In, and his
loving, wistful treatment of Richard Hells Time, which perfectly
captures the musical climate he exemplified circa The Johnnys hey day).
Hes
returned as the Steve McQueen of Australian rocknroll; dangerous, charming
and loaded with gen-yoo-ine, 100-proof talent. Any fan of real-deal,
Cuban-heeled, danger-man rnr had better make sure this doesnt pass them
by. This is one of two releases this week that are guaranteed a place on my
yearly top 10 with a bullet or two. Nazz (youve peaked baby)
Album Review
The Age -
'EG'
Rock
steals from everywhere, so the most honest rock takes most brazenly, flaunts its
acquisitions and makes them its own. Therefore,
Spencer P. Jones is honesty personified. There's
loads of big guitars and drums, with several songs fattened up with gleeful use
of a soul-funk horn section. Jones
growls his way through the dozen tracks; there are some inspired covers, but
ultimately it's all his own. There's
a wiff of Bowie, circa Heroes, in the
opener, Terrorise your friends, and
lashes of Iggy in Trick my boat wrong
and Stolen car serenade.. Albino Faye is
a brutal stomp that could've come from the Beasts songbook, and the cover of
Andre Williams' Let me put it in is
possibly the most lascivious number ever recorded. For absolute highlights, skip to tracks 10 and 11, Jones'
superb These days and a Charlie Owen
gem, Negative.
Great
stuff
Jeff Glorfeld
The Weekend Australian 'Spin'
In
an era where the horn section is either forgotten or comes from a box, it's
heartening to know there are still a few practitioners in Australia who know the
meaning of rock 'n' roll. Melbourne
guitar journeyman Spencer P. Jones (Beasts of Bourbon, Paul Kelly and many more)
knows his way around a rock tune and quite possibly has listened to the Stooges
on more than one occasion. Marry
that uncompromising agenda to a 10-piece band, including four horn players, and
you have a formidable recipe for big noise and driving, feel-good mayhem.
Jones stylishly pummels his way through Stolen Car Serenade, Terrorise Your Friends and Trick My Boat Wrong, but substitutes melody for macho on These
Days and Richard Hell's Time. Sadly, Jones excellent last album Rumour of Death had trouble even making it to the remainder bins.
"The word's got everything in it," he sang then.
Now it has something more. Hopefully
it will take notice.
Iain Shedden
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