Brian Jonestown Massacre - My Bloody Underground
It was Morrissey who once sang “We hate it when our friends become successful”, but those of you who have seen 2004’s ‘documentary, if you will rockumentary’ Dig!; might agree that the Mancunian miserablist’s lyrics could have been specifically written with a character reminiscent of Brian Jonestown Massacre’s lead singer Anton Newcombe in mind. For those of you unfamiliar with Dig! or with the Jonestown’s resume (My Bloody Underground is their 13th album release in a career spanning 18 years); the movie chronicles the contrasting career paths forged by the Jonestown and their one-time comrades The Dandy Warhols. It is a tale of two bands seemingly bound together by both friendship and the desire to make great records, yet as the movie develops it increasingly becomes clear that there is a huge disparity between the bands in terms of their willingness to compromise their artistic freedom for the spoils of success. As the Dandy’s career snowballs, Newcombe cuts an increasingly obdurate and disaffected figure whose frighteningly proficient output as a songwriter (BJM released three albums in 1996 alone) is conflicted by inter-band feuds and splits, drug problems and his own (admirable) if somewhat misguided disinclination to “sell-out”. Throughout the film, Anton’s rabid and oft-hilarious self belief remains unmatched by his band’s success; and his contempt for the careerist position occupied by the Dandy’s is clear.
Following Dig!’s release, Anton was far from happy. The Spinal Tap-esque sound bites and the film’s portrayal of himself as an egotist and drug-induced despot in the vein of Lee Mavers, seemingly incapable of fully capturing the sound festering in his head; hardly painted a desirable character profile. Newcombe furiously attacked the film’s skewed depiction of his band’s career and of his own behaviour, savaging director Ondi Timoner for reducing BJM’s career to “at best a series of punch ups and mishaps taken out of context, and at worst bold faced lies and misrepresentation of fact.” It is clear that although he may not approved of the movies release, Dig! has unquestionably brought the band and Anton’s songwriting to the attention to a far greater audience and (loath as Anton himself may be to recognise this fact) this can only be a good thing; as at his best Anton is a neo-classicist songwriter par excellence without many contemporary parallels.
Given both the unprecedented attention the band has received in the wake of Dig! and the equal precedent of an extended hiatus between releases (it is over 4 years since their last long player, 2003’s excellent And This Is Our Music), it is fair to say that My Bloody Underground represents perhaps the most anticipated record that any incarnation of the Brian Jonestown Massacre has ever released. So, I hear you cry is it any good? Well, yes and no; as an album it doesn’t really work, there are far too many divergences into a surfeit of disparate genres and styles for the album to flow continuously and coherently. Anton is renowned for his self-proclaimed ability to turn his hand to almost anything musically and My Bloody Underground represents a mystifying gathering of the somewhat fragmented melting pot of influences which have characterised the Jonestown’s career. 60s infused psychedelia, Eastern mysticism, early 90s British shoegazing, raggedy lo-fi experimentation; they are all present in some form on My Bloody Underground and are accompanied by a host of further oddities. In addition to the musical haberdashery nature of the material involved, the album also suffers at times from shambolic, frayed production which results in several tracks sounding as though they were recorded in a garden shed!
Despite these glaringly evident flaws, My Bloody Underground is by no means a complete disaster. Kicking off with the superbly ragged and hilariously titled ‘Bring Me The Head Of Paul McCartney on Heather Mills’ Wooden Peg (Dropping Bombs on the White House), an angry, foreboding lament accompanied by an incessant, gnawing drone which cackles mischievously yet has a strangely uplifting effect on the listener; the album contains enough rough diamonds to make it worthy of attention. ‘Who Cares Why’ is a hypnotic, white-noise drenched dirge which features former Ride vocalist Mark Gardener. It is relentless, repetitive and ramshackle; yet spell-bindingly festers its way into the listener’s head almost bullying you into submission and is a welcome passing nod to Gardener’s former band. ‘Yeah Yeah’ is a mesmeric three-chord melodrama which evokes memories of the spell-binding ‘Give it Back!’ album. The undoubted high point of the album is the sublime ‘Ljosmyndir’, a blissful, dreamy and introspective slice of electronic meandering featuring seductive, spoken word Icelandic vocals. It is an unexpected and triumphant departure, transporting the listener to a wistful, relaxed state of mind.
My Bloody Underground is an introspective, at times difficult record. The discordant and dishevelled nature of much of the material coupled with gloriously tactless song titles will be enough to provoke derision from many. Whilst, it is clear that the Jonestown have released far better albums in the past and invariably will do so again, this particular instalment merely reiterates the fact that Newcombe stands as one of the few true remaining mavericks within rock music, a man who is a shining embodiment of the psychedelic generation’s mantra to ‘turn on, tune in, drop out’.