Words: Adrian Hextall
Kirk Brandon on 40 Years of Defiance and Defining the Spear of Destiny Legacy
He’s a post-punk icon, a rock survivor, and a man with a forty-year back catalogue of prophetic anthems. As Spear of Destiny head out on tour in support of ‘Janus’, a definitive reimagining of their classic 80s albums, Kirk Brandon talks streaming wars, rock ‘n’ roll camaraderie, and why sometimes, you have to perfect the past to define the future.
Kirk Brandon is unwell. “I’ve got this head cold thing which has gone onto my chest,” he rasps, the voice that has fronted The Pack, Theatre of Hate, and Spear of Destiny for over four decades audibly weathered. “The usual sort of stuff. But, you know, just what you don’t need when you’re going out on tour.” He’s due on stage in Edinburgh in a matter of days. Is there any thought of cancelling? He scoffs at the very notion. “Exactly. We’re rehearsing as of Sunday, so it’s like, yeah, just get on with it.”
“Just get on with it.” It could be the motto for Brandon’s entire career. It’s an ethos forged in the fires of punk and post-punk, a dogged determination that has seen him navigate the treacherous waters of the music industry, major label highs, independent struggles, and everything in between, without ever losing the defiant spark that has defined him as a cult hero.
This autumn, that journey brings him to a string of iconic UK venues, from Edinburgh’s atmospheric Caves to London’s legendary Water Rats. “It’s got so much history, hasn’t it?” he says of the London pub. “Bob Dylan played his first ever UK gig there. The Pogues played their first gig there. In fact, Shane was working behind the bar.” He adds with a wry chuckle, “They put a picture of me on the wall. I’ve got a lot to live up to.”
He’s on the road in support of Janus, the double album released earlier this year to critical acclaim. It’s not a collection of new material, but something arguably more significant: a complete re-recording and definitive reimagining of the band’s two biggest-selling albums, 1987’s Outland and 1988’s The Price You Pay. It’s a project born from both artistic necessity and righteous indignation.
The title itself is a statement. “It was kind of existential,” Brandon explains, referencing the two-faced Roman god of beginnings and endings. The original albums represented the end of his major label era. “They were on CBS, Virgin… that, in a way, was that period of my life. After that, we basically started again. We turned our face away from the big labels.”
The ‘beginning’ part of the Janus equation is the chance to finally present these songs as he always heard them, free from the corporate interference and production fads of the late 80s. “The Outlands album was all done on Fairlight 3,” (Often described as an “orchestra in a box,” the Fairlight CMI was one of the very first commercially available digital samplers. The Series III model represented a massive leap in power and fidelity over its predecessors) he recalls, a hint of disdain in his voice. “Which was the company’s idea and the management’s idea. And so it was all programmed. I didn’t want this Janus album like some kind of programme job. I just want guys, let’s get in a rehearsal room. You know how the songs go… we’re a rock band. Spear is a rock band.”
The result is a revelation. Tracks once constrained by digital synthesisers now breathe with the raw, visceral energy of a live band at the peak of their powers. “Turn it on, just give it a go,” was the instruction. “Three or four takes, we got it. I just want it to sound like rock music, you know, like guys that can really play.”
This mission to create a definitive version was also fuelled by a more modern-day frustration. Like many legacy artists, Brandon found himself unable to license his own master tapes from the corporate behemoths that now owned them. “We tried to license, lease, buy even, all the major albums, but the companies won’t. They’re not interested. They won’t even reply to you.” His solution? He took a leaf out of a global superstar’s book. “Like I keep saying, Taylor Swift, it’s exactly what she did. Right, I’ll go and re-record them. It’s really common practice now.”
This defiant streak extends to his staunch refusal to put Janus on streaming services. His opinion on Spotify is delivered with the unfiltered candour of a punk rocker who never learned to mince his words. “You get paid .00025 of a penny. Well, that’s just not acceptable,” he states flatly. “I mean, that Swedish guy that owns Spotify, I mean, frankly, fuck off. It’s criminal, basically. Where is the Musicians’ Union? The MCPS, PRS? Why don’t they get together and take these people on? Strength in numbers.”
For Brandon, it’s about respect for the art and the artist. If fans want the album, they can buy a physical copy, ensuring the money goes into the right pockets. It’s an old-school approach in a digital world, but it’s one that resonates with a fanbase that has stuck with him through thick and thin. “Luckily, we’ve got a real hardcore audience,” he acknowledges. “As long as people come and see you play, then you’re okay.”
Crucially, Janus also gave Brandon the opportunity to right historical wrongs. Classic, fan-favourite tracks like the furious ‘Soldier Soldier’ and the anthemic ‘Pumpkin Man’, both inexplicably left off the original LPs by label executives, have been restored to their rightful place. “The company didn’t want them on the albums,” he says, the frustration still clear in his voice after all these years. “Some of the best stuff that should have been on the album, you know? What I’ve done is I’ve taken what I thought was the best tracks and put them on the album. This is the version that should have always been.”
The band bringing this vision to life is a formidable unit, a veritable who’s who of post-punk royalty and the longest-serving line-up in Spear’s history. On bass is the legendary Craig Adams, whose unmistakable rumble has anchored The Sisters of Mercy, The Cult, and The Mission. On guitar is Adrian Portas, a veteran of New Model Army and Sex Gang Children. The engine room is powered by Phil Martini, a drummer with the swagger of a 70s rock god, known for his work with The Wayward Sons and Jim Jones and the Righteous Mind.
“He plays like a 1970s rock drummer,” Brandon says with affection. “He even dresses and looks like one. He looks like someone’s jetted him in from ’73, ’74.” He recounts the recording sessions where Martini’s encyclopedic knowledge of the songs held everything together. “Me and Craig would just look at each other, like, what happens now? And Phil stopped it and he goes, ‘Look, if you can’t remember where it goes, don’t worry about it. I do.’ And he’d play all the way to the end, really complicated patterns. He had it all playing in his head. A really great musician.”
Rounding out this stellar line-up are long-time keyboardist Steven Allen-Jones (“35 years he’s been playing for me”) and saxophonist Clive Osborne. “We laugh and say he’s the only real musician in the band,” Brandon jokes. “He’s a brilliant, brilliant player.”
This is more than just a collection of session players; it’s a gang. Their camaraderie is the secret weapon that makes the modern Spear of Destiny such a potent live force. “They’re a really funny bunch of guys,” he laughs. “You’re only on stage for an hour and a half, so the rest of the time, you’ve got to be agreeable. There’s a lot of piss-take. If they weren’t a laugh, I don’t think we’d be doing it.” He adds self-deprecatingly, “The only person that really fucks up a lot of the time is me. I did one gig about eight years ago, and I did everything perfect. Just one. I came off and I said to them, ‘I didn’t fuck up at all!’ They just looked at me like, what’s he talking about? They didn’t even notice.”
Looking back over a career that has been nothing if not prolific, Brandon is reflective. “I write music, I go out, perform it, we release it. And that’s what I do. That’s been my life,” he says. “I realise that I’m incredibly lucky. Yes, there’s been a lot of bad luck, but that comes with the territory. This industry, you’re not designed to win in it. The people that actually make the music, write the music, perform the music, never seem to be the ones that make the big bucks.”
Perhaps the most startling thing about revisiting these 80s anthems is their chilling modern-day relevance. Brandon’s dystopian, politically charged lyrics feel less like historical documents and more like contemporary news reports. “That song, ‘Strangers in Our Town’… was so prophetic. Fucking hell,” he muses. “You watch the video, you’ll get scared. That’s what’s going on now. It’s a statement. Okay, here’s the scenario… people are frightened they’ve been taken over. You make up your own mind about this.” It’s a sad indictment of the times that the themes he explored four decades ago, tribalism, fear, division, are still so prevalent. “You’d have thought we’d have been a little bit more collective by now,” he sighs.
The project is still in its infancy, pending the logistical nightmare of getting everyone in the same room at the same time. “We need an agreement to say, okay, we’ll do it,” he says. With the tour looming, he’ll have a captive audience. The road awaits.
The cold might be biting, but Kirk Brandon is getting on with it. He’s a survivor, a storyteller, a man who has taken ultimate control of his past to continue defining his future. For him, and for the ever-prolific Spear of Destiny, this isn’t an ending. It’s just the definitive next chapter.
Details of the tour and tickets are here:
https://kirkbrandon.com/shows
15th Oct – EDINBURGH, The Caves
16th Oct – GLASGOW, Òran Mór
17th Oct – YORK, Crescent
18th Oct – NEWCASTLE, North East Calling
19th Oct – HUDDERSFIELD, Parish
20th Oct – SHEFFIELD, Greystones
22nd Oct – SOUTHAMPTON, Papillon
23rd Oct – NEWCASTLE, Rigger
24th Oct – LEICESTER, International
26th Oct – BEDFORD, Esquires
27th Oct – LONDON, Water Rats
28th Oct – EXETER, Phoenix
Spear of Destiny are:
Kirk Brandon: Vocals, Guitar
Adrian Portas: (New Model Army, Sex Gang Children) – Guitar
Craig Adams: (Sisters of Mercy, The Cult, The Mission) – Bass
Phil Martini: (Jim Jones and the Righteous Mind) – Drums
Clive Osborne: Saxophone
Steven Allen-Jones: Keyboards
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