Peering over the O2 Ritz’ impressive balcony this evening I couldn’t help but notice the many faces of Manchester’s DIY music scene, their attendance testament to The Brian Jonestown Massacre’s indelible influence on contemporary guitar music. Joining them are a congregation consisting of folk who own at least one piece of clothing made from leather, Lee Hazlewood enthusiasts, and people who get lost in the Terrence Mckenna YouTube rabbit hole from time to time. I’m not suggesting that you need all three attributes to be an honorary member of the Jonestone tribe, but a cross-sectional analysis of their fan’s habits would surely yield some illuminating statistics eerily similar to the aforementioned.
Taking cues from library music, jazz, and the shadowy pop end of psychedelia, Nottingham-based The Soundcarriers have more in common with the spectral mystique of Broadcast than The Brian Jonestown Massacre’s hedonistic swagger. The band’s hybrid of exotica-tinged futurism and propulsive pop elicits a more sophisticated take on ‘60s psychedelia, but it sets the tone perfectly for the night’s proceedings.
For anyone who hasn’t been watching the news for the last three years, we’re a country at pressure point, culminating in a collective fatigue via endless bad news. A population can only sustain such uncertainty for so long – can the same be said for a fan base? The Brian Jonestown Massacre are an extremely dedicated cult, rooted in a tenacity to continuously evolve. Founder and lead guitarist Anton Newcombe is at the helm, his dogged perfectionism often interpreted as difficult and volatile. Anyone armed with a slight contextual knowledge of the mythic DIG documentary will be aware that Newcombe is no stranger to provocation and on-stage dramatics, and probably wouldn’t be surprised to hear that the gig was abruptly halted a number of times due to an issue with the sound.
Without attempting to reduce the band to the usual tropes from repeated criticisms of Brian Jonestown gigs, it’s difficult as a casual observer to condone Anton’s behaviour. There’s an element to The Brian Jonestown Massacre’s ‘60s idealism, but specifically Anton Newcombe’s contemptuous rock-star persona, that feels outdated and at odds with both contemporary culture and the city’s current musical landscape. One thing is certain: when the band drift into sonic hypnosis – the kind of intoxicating, meandering groove that they’re known for – it’s almost enough to negate any associated egotism within the band. Tambourine player (or vibe instigator) Joel Gion and Anton Newcombe channel that better than anyone. For all their faults, The Brian Jonestown Massacre are always attempting to get it just right for their audience – it’s a specific kind of magic that’s trying to be achieved and sustained every night. Glimmers of this were present through the set, with staples such as ‘Anemone’ and ‘When Jokers Attack’ being particularly mesmeric, serving as a reminder of why they’ve accumulated such a devoted following.
The band’s most recent material sits comfortably among established classics, but there is the occasional lull in momentum, in part due to persistent issues with the sound. Despite the internal politics of a band bubbling to the surface and the odd uncomfortable moment, these were short lived, and The Brian Jonestown Massacre’s transcendental musicality redresses any misgivings. Turns out that uncertainty comes with the territory at BJM gigs, and we’re ok with that.
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Words: Hayley Scott
Photo Credit: Marie Monteiro