Brian Beacom talks to Simple minds frontman Jim Kerr about why they are back on the road again to celebrate 30 years in showbusiness

CONVERSATION with Jim Kerr is easier than a night on the sofa with a classic album on the stereo and a cold beer in your hand.

Not only does he try to hit the honesty mark when asked questions, he asks them too, about favourite travel places, perceptions of the world.

He's naturally inquisitive, curious about other people's worlds. Being able to look outwards is perhaps the key to the longevity of the band.

While other rock stars check into rehab, Jim has stayed focused. And sensible - ish.

He's been too busy adventuring to become trapped in the mire of self-examination, too busy looking forward.

While most other 80s rock bands have long since gone, Simple Minds still tackle the concert arenas of the world.

And it's down to the fact Jim Kerr's eyes to the world remain wide open. Whether it's reflected in opening a hotel in Sicily or seeing the sights of Toronto or Buenos Aires, the common factor is the boy from Toryglen is a born adventurer.

"I think the desire to keep going comes from wanting to enjoy the world," he says. "And I've always felt that."

Glasgow's gloomier side has never been a weight on Jim Kerr's shoulders.

While so many cite the depression of the 80s as a reason for remaining static, the one time apprentice plumber never saw it that way.

"It's not that we were dying to escape from Glasgow, a city that was on its knees," he says.

"It wasn't that at all. It was this idea of going up the top of my high-rise block in Toryglen and looking out at the world.

"And I thought that out there would be a million adventures and some great stories to tell.

"I wanted to embark upon these adventures."

Jim's first real adventure involved hitchhiking through Europe with Charlie Burchill, who would later become Simple Minds guitarist, when they were both teenagers. He reveals it was the start of the music dream.

"The idea was that we'd hitch down to London to see the Sex Pistols perform," he recalls with a grin.

"As it happens we never saw the Pistols. During the trip south, every time we'd stuck out our thumb we got a lift. So we decided to keep on going.

"Before we knew it we were on the ferry to France. We hitched and made friends. And we slept in parks, youth hostels and train stations.

"But what it gave us was this sense that there was a much larger world out there. And we had to see all of it."

How? Well, the time spent with Charlie on the trip galvanised thoughts. They shared a love for music. So why couldn't they form a band?

"It was a mind expanding experience," he says. "It was our version of the Jack Kerouac road trip, the people we met, the adventures we had, and what happened was that it made us hungry to experience more."

Being away from home gave them confidence to believe it was all possible.

"I remember one night we were sleeping outside the Olympic Stadium in Munich on the grassy hills, thinking how wonderful this place was.

"And it's no surprise Simple Minds became a touring band. We had to see it all."

He adds, grinning: "It takes a brass neck to stick your thumb out."

THE pals focused on the music dream and Simple Minds, the original art house rock band, emerged.

They were radical, inventive, anthemic, lyrical and loud. But even when fortunes began to dip, Jim's forward momentum kept the band alive.

And the journey wasn't all about rock star excesses (although they were hardly The Osmonds). Jim saw the tours as a chance to wallow in life's experiences, to squeeze the juice out of every new culture he encountered.

"This may sound pseudo," he says, smiling, "but the last time we played Japan we made sure the tour coincided with the cherry blossoms coming out. Seriously.

"Now, 30 years ago our priorities may have been a little different. But overall, I love to see the sights, to meet people.

"Once, we were in Buenos Aires and I visited one of the local market places, where people tangoed outdoors.

"It was brilliant."

Not all the adventures have been fun. Sao Paulo didn't go too well.

"Yes, that was the first time we heard gunshots. There was a bit of a riot going on. And it made me think. When we go on tour we're protected, of course, we're in a gang and looked after, but it was still a bit of a rammy."

Jim's need to expand his horizons is just one factor in the longevity of the band.

The other is his unique relationship with guitarist Charlie.

"There aren't many mates who live with each other," he says. "When we tour we eat and travel together - we're in each other's pockets.

"Yet, while we're alike, we're different. Charlie likes to keep the Keith Richard hours, while if I'm not playing I've had enough at 9pm and I'm up at the crack of dawn, seeing the sights."

What also keeps Jim Kerr moving forward is an appreciation of his position in the industry.

"To be honest, I've been in two minds about celebrating this 30 year thing. Compared to Lou Reed or Bowie or Jagger we are still wet behind the ears. But at the same time it felt right to celebrate it."

What comes across in speaking to Jim is the fact that he's immensely thankful for the life he loves.

"If someone had asked me as a young guy would it all last I'd have said No'. I was talking to Chrissie (Hynde, his ex-wife and Pretenders singer), recently about this, that there were no old men' in the business back then except for the blues guys.

"But we're still around."

And still wearing the eyeliner?

The singer breaks into a laugh. "My son James came in one day and said My teacher at school is a big fan of yours. And she said you used to wear all this eyeliner on stage'. And I said What do you mean used to?' "Believe me, the eyeliner will return."