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New vocalist Sven Gross debuts on Bloodred Massacre, fitting seamlessly into Fleshcrawl's brutal aural assault. ~ Steve Huey, All Music Guide
MP3.com Live: Brian Jonestown Massacre
Anton Newcombe and company return to San Francisco and pass out a healthy dose of psychedelic rock.
The Brian Jonestown Massacre
The 2004 documentary Dig! has cast a new light on every live performance by the band Brian Jonestown Massacre since the film's release.
The film, which focused on BJM's tumultuous relationship with fellow '60s revivalists The Dandy Warhols, ended up being an examination of BJM frontman Anton Newcombe's psyche--particularly his on and offstage temper tantrums that resulted in a revolving door of band members, drug addiction, and fistfights.
As a result, BJM's two sold-out shows this week at The Independent in San Francisco came with an air of curious anticipation: Would the band members survive the show? Would blood be shed? Would there be a show at all?
Thankfully for all involved, none of those concerns proved true. Instead, the seven-member band delivered a pair of rousing, two-and-a-half-hour performances that showed off a more mature Newcombe, who focused more on music than mayhem.
The "tune in, drop out" psychedelic sound of BJM has definitely been heard before, most notably in the '60s from the likes of Quicksilver Messenger Service, the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, and The 13th Floor Elevators, and more recently from droning space rockers Spacemen 3 in the 80s, and the shoegazing British bands of the early 1990s.
But when Newcombe is on his game, and on these nights he most certainly was, it's as if the student has surpassed the teachers. Newcombe's songwriting skills rival those of yesteryear's legends--at heart his songs are so simple and obvious, yet they're unlike anything that's out there now. And of course there is the otherworldly ringing of three (and sometimes four) guitars layered on top of each other.
Though lacking the support of any major-label backing, Newcombe has proven to be very prolific on his own, releasing nine full-lengths (including three in 1996 alone) and a handful of EPs over the last decade. Little, if any, new material was played--not that the glazed-over crowd would have noticed. Over the course of the two nights, BJM played songs from all over their catalog, feeding their loyal fans "Servo," "When Jokers Attack," fantastic renditions of "Hide and Seek" and "That Girl Suicide," and several others.
That's not to say there weren't any dustups. BJM's reputation brings out the worst in those who know that pushing the frontman's buttons is simple as calling an elevator. During Monday night's show, some audience members threw ice on stage to provoke a gnashed-teeth response from the bristly Newcombe.
It succeeded, of course, and he went on a short expletive-riddled tirade about the mental deficiencies of said ice-hurlers and called for their bodies to be dragged through the streets.
But the band appeared to have moved beyond its infantile retaliation, limiting backlashes to verbal sparring accompanied with a wry grin.
Critics have called Newcombe both a madman and a genius. Both monikers are correct, but at least for two nights in San Francisco this week, the latter description was more appropriate.
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