REVIEW: The Brian Jonestown Massacre, Metro Theatre 17.05.12

I went to another gig with my mother. There. I said it. I like that my family- mother, father, brothers, possible future in-law can all go watch acts like Deerhunter and THE BRIAN JONESTOWN MASSACRE. It's fucking great. 

Yes. Last Thursday, the boyfriend and I ventured into the Sydney CBD to taste the tantalising shoegaze goodness that is The Brian Jonestown Massacre. We were there, like so many others, to revel in the light that radiates from Anton Newcombe's face. And it was good.

In what was almost a double-bill, The Brian Jonestown Massacre started out their Australian tour with The Raveonettes with spunk. And pizzazz. Loads of pizzazz. Excited psych fans young and old crammed into the dark room and peered up at the latter. It's about 8:30 in the evening at this point. Pretty early. But some people are pretty boozed already. And the scent of marijuana hangs in the air. Now The Raveonettes don't get enough cred for being absolutely brilliant. It's my role as 'that annoying yuppie writer' to tell you so. They're The Jesus and Mary Chain of our generation, but with better harmonies. Their garage sound got hearts a-pumping. It got me randy even. The silhouette of guitarist, Sune Rose Wagner beamed from the right wall. Fuck those lights were rad. He looked almost like an early '80s Robert Smith. His sullen nonchalant manner and vocals perfectly complimented their expansive and distorted tunes- the twang and quiver of lingering chords was carried through the eager crowd. We let the sounds drip down the back of our throats.

The Brian Jonestown Massacre played for two hours. Two hours of shoegaze/psychedelic/garage/alternative awesome. It droned on and on and on. They played all the hits (complied on Tepid Peppermint Wonderland: A Retrospective) that have always been well-appreciated my fans, but not by the mainstream media machine. The crowd pulsed and swayed, jerking awkwardly with each rattle of Joel Gion's tambourine. Middled-aged men craned their necks over a newly-installed security fence. Young people shook, roared, hooted and hollered behind. The air was rife with anticipation. Would Newcombe go off? Was it nasty to sort of hope so? This is my Brian Jonestown first gig! I want the whole experience! I'm going to stand close to the front! And bring my big friendly giant boyfriend with me! The closest to going off was Newcombe harassing two guitarists when neither played rhythm on 'Servo.' Matt Hollywood's charm was a welcome re-addition to the line-up- eight people in all littered the stage. Hollywood told us "this song is about friendship" before letting loose on their ode to friends/rivals The Dandy Warhols, 'Not if You Were the Last Dandy on Earth.' A member of the crowd urged Newcombe to play a particular song, the response: "I'm 44 years old. I don't do requests.'

He may be 44 years old, but he still loves to play, and he still can. His songs are still blissfully layered, often falling towards the romantic- as is the case with my personal top track, 'Open Heart Surgery'. He writes songs to take your sadness away! Yup, he's got just the right words. And chords. And guitar solos too.

I love The Brian Jonestown Massacre.

Words by Hannah Story.