The Brian Jonestown Massacre Rule, Okay?

In the pantheon of great indie rock beefs, The Brian Jonestown Massacre versus The Dandy Warhols looms large, mostly due to its thorough documentation in the highly acclaimed 2004 rock doc Dig! If you know, you know, and you probably have already picked a team. I have been and remain Team Dandys, and have seen them live many times, most recently this past March. 

While both bands sport clever 1960s portmanteau names and lean heavily into druggy psych, I've always connected more closely to The Dandy Warhols' studied glammy pop and roots country sensibilities. I just wasn't ready for BJM's raw, pared-back introspection.

It seems silly in retrospect. If you listen to both bands, you can hear the similarities in each, one brighter and the other more moody, one with a sharper swagger, the other with a bit more creeping chaos. Like dawn and dusk, their sounds are defined in contrast, but also in coalition, during a very specific moment in the history of music born in the mid-90s Pacific Northwest. 

I've come to appreciate The Brian Jonestown Massacre aesthetic more in recent years, with newer psych acts inspiring me to dig back in time and rediscover the sounds to which I wasn't previously drawn. Team Dandys or not, I hadn't ever seen Brian Jonestown Massacre, and I knew it was time to right that wrong. That's how I found myself at the Beanfield Theatre on a Saturday night, surrounded by a more surprisingly diverse audience than I anticipated. 

I used to think that the best job in music belonged to Slipknot's touring percussionists (wear outfits and occasionally hit things, what a gig), but I now know that job belongs to Joel Gion. For over 30 (more or less continuous) years, Gion has been playing tambourine (and occasionally maracas!) for BJM, elevating looking bored standing in the middle of the stage to an art form. He is the embodiment of that very specific musical aesthetic of the mid-90s I allude to earlier: elegantly detached, art school cool, just a little bit above it all. 

Likely that detachment comes from a bit of necessity. Despite his placement center stage, everyone knows who the real star of BJM really is, the wild, mercurial id to Gion's rhythmic, unbothered chk-chk-chk superego. The Brian Jonestown Massacre is Anton Newcombe, the band's singularly most enduring, if not most stable, member. Working alongside him for 30 years can't possibly be easy, and Gion, along with many past and current members, has quit the band multiple times.

Famously volatile, Newcomb was on his best, if still unpredictable, behaviour. Well into his 50s, Newcomb isn't above an onstage brawl if he deems it necessary, and the uncertainty of what might happen at a BJM show has added to their mythology. You wouldn't necessarily know it to look at him. Newcomb channelled Neil Young via hippie music teacher on stage last night, laminated sheet music laid out on a stand in front of him. Yes, the between-song banter got a little rambly and inscrutable, and yes, he did restart "Fudge", a song from their twentieth and most recent album, The Future is Your Past, about 30 seconds in, but these are par for the course. Anyone hoping for an onstage meltdown was likely disappointed.

If anything, the show may have been more reserved than some anticipated. Changeovers between songs were long, and the crowd's impatience was palpable at times. In the end, the low-energy crowd struggled to bring back the band for an encore, but it stands somewhat to reason: The last song was an ultra-extended version of "Super-Sonic" featuring Rishi Dhir from Montreal's own Elephant Stone on the sitar, which, while wonderfully captivating, got louder and louder, leaving the audience sated, if not exhausted. It was an excellent closer, and I agree with the band that there was no encore needed.

In the end, am I still Team Dandys? Of course, I can't help myself. But The Brian Jonestown Massacre have managed to capture a little piece of my heart, so many years along, and that's not too bad at all.

Angelica hosts BVST, Wednesdays 7-9 PM EST on CJLO.