Brian Jonestown Massacre to play Sydney
Brian Jonestown Massacre (left to right: Jeffrey Davies, Matt Hollywood, Joel Gion, Peter Hayes, Dean Taylor, Anton Newcombe).
The BJM are set to play Sydney in a couple of weeks, at the Metro and the Factory. Both shows have sold-out, but I’ll be there.
For anyone who hasn’t seen the documentary ‘Dig’, the gist of Jonestown is an outfit self-described as ‘electric folk music’ and dubbed the ‘velvet underground of the 90s’ by their friends-come-rivals, The Dandy Warhols. In brief, whilst the Dandy’s followed the path of corporatized commerical rock, the BJM hijacked every presented opportunity to make it to ze big time. This included inflictions of heroin, inter-band violence and resistance to subservient positions on major label rosters.
Nevertheless, the BJM made a habit of recording multiple full-length albums per year, several of them quite brilliant; I suggest ‘Bravery, Repetition and Noise’, ‘Take It From The Man’, ‘Thank God For Mental Illness’ and ‘Give It Back’.
The band centres around Anton Newcombe, the songwriter and singular surviving member of the original line-up.
When happily heading off to a Jonestown gig, there’s something you should know. Anton is known to rant. Onstage. For long periods without playing many songs. Some friends of mine saw Jonestown’s show at the Gaelic Club a couple of years ago; their experience sums it up.
So they’re hanging around the Gaelic before the show, as their friend was opening the show. They’d never heard of the BJM.
Anton approaches John, my friend, as he waits to order a beer, and reaches across the bar for a bottle of vodka.
“Do you want a drink?” he asks, cracking the bottle open. John says no, I’m waiting on a beer. “You are a fool,” he cries, seizing John’s hands. He rubs John’s hands between his own and empties the vodka onto them, ‘cleansing’ him in some manner, whilst ranting on about the meaning and worth of things.
Strange enough, perhaps. But there’s a little more. Over a two-hour set, the BJM only played four or five songs, as Anton ranted about his life, struggles with the music industry, and qualms about other bands etc.
My friends left when he ‘turned racist’, rounding on a Pacific Islander in the audience. Something about him ‘getting back into his canoe’.
This all sounds pretty horrible. Still, however long afterward, my friends realized they’d seen a brilliant band, albeit a strangely afflicted one.
