Brian Jonestown Massacre
The Parish, Austin, Texas
August 12, 2005

Bless Anton Newcombe for his ability to snatch defeat from the jaws of what most would deem to be victory.

The club was sold out. The crowd amped up to see the Brian Jonestown Massacre in Austin's best small concert venue. Shouts of "Anton, you're a genius…" could be heard above the anticipatory din, and more than a few BJM devotees wandered through the crowd talking with an almost religious zeal about how they were following the band on its current tour. The guy yelling in my friend's ear apparently didn't hear me when I started singing "I am the cult of/I am the cult of/Personality" at him while he ranted on about how the critics in Houston who had given them mixed reviews just didn't understand BJM.

Then amidst a flurry of backstage chaos and rumors of whether or not the show would even happen because Anton had lost his voice and maybe the road manager quit, the band took the stage to squeals of anticipation. For the first two songs, it was a reminder of why we should give proper deference to Newcombe and his assorted musical collaborators for BJM's deep trailblazing influence on the still emerging flock of neo-psychedelic revival bands. Newcombe has guided BJM through a tumultuous decade since the band's first records appeared and has left behind an extensive and fascinating bunch of records, and it is really hard to come up with the name of a comparably prolific and consistently great artist who has had such an impact on the current state of underground rock. Live, it is even more apparent that the secret to his success has been his band's mastering of the ringing drone, which fuses the Velvet Underground influence with the west coast paisley pop sound. This is the sound that has characterized the sound of BJM and its disciples, but nobody does it better than Newcombe and friends.

But it was pretty clear early on that this night's show was going to also deliver for the people who expected nothing less than the onstage psychodrama depicted in Dig! From the start, Newcombe repeatedly apologized to the crowd between songs about the state of his voice, and how he had cancelled other shows just to be able to perform this one becuase he loved Austin so much. At first, the crowd responded to this with tremendous support, but by the time Newcombe had pissed off guitarist Frankie Teardrop by yelling instructions into his ear, the band was going off the edge, and Newcombe pleas for understanding started sounding like excuses.

By about the midway point of the fourth song's 40 minute-long jam (or maybe it was two songs combined- sorry if I was too bored and distracted to care), the room had all but emptied. Then Newcombe brought up the fine Canadian band, the High Dials, who played a couple of spacey, formless jam songs that did nothing to stem the exiting tide. When BJM came back out to do one last song, those that remained were ready to heckle, and Newcombe was ready for them, deftly meeting a "fuck you" with "You're not gonna receive the golden crown in heaven by giving me shit." But even the final song came off as an obligation and quickly fell into listlessness.

With a growing new fan base that has come along on the heels of the Dig! documentary, public interest in Brian Jonestown Massacre has been at an all-time high, and the stage has been set for Newcombe's brilliant but mercurial band to finally get the commercial attention it has deserved for so long. But if the reaction of many concert goers is any indication, the public has low tolerance for Newcombe's thin-line between undeniable musical brilliance and onstage sociopathy. Obviously, the two are inseparable and give an organic edge to the music, but it makes you wonder whether or not someone with some vision can concoct a better way for Newcombe to conduct his career than an endless series of stressful, grueling tours. In retrospect, despite the respect you have to give a performer for their "show must go on" mentality, maybe BJM should have cancelled and returned when Newcombe was in better health.

Part of what attracts people to this band may be that palpable sense of tension and danger that comes with a Brian Jonestown Massacre show, but it is a shame to see this voyeur act where fans pay to see if the band will have an onstage breakdown usurp the music as the focal point. It reminds me of the Tom Petty song "Dogs On the Run" with its line "Ain't it funny how a crowd gathers around anyone living life without a net." And when the crowd gathers to either gawk and heckle BJM or follow them around like the spiritual gurus they are not, the music is in danger of becoming the casualty, and that is a shame. (Andy Smith)