Let the kids dig this

Very often in this blog when I speak about very famous and well known bands I feel like I'm giving away my savings to Bill Gates.
It's like adding some sand to the Sahara or put a small rock on the pyramids in Egypt like many stupid tourists do.
This is pointless: Bill Gates has already shitloads of money and doesn't give a flying fuck about your loosy
€ 1654,89, the sahara doesn't give a shit neither, everybody knows there is plenty of sand over there and nobody will notice your silly contribution.
And for the tourists, well, they should apologize to the souls of the thousands slaves that died building the pyramids for imagining one single second that those dumbass easyjets riders can play in the same league.


These metaphores define perfectly the kind of mixed feelings I go through while writing about universaly recognized and loved rockstars.
But when I'm writing about the Brian Jonestown Massacre (get this movie..now!) I feel exactly the opposite way, it's like giving the rest of your lunch money to a lost brilliant alcoholic and junkie bum from your neighbourhood who is so cool you wish he was your grandbrother, even if he stinks.
This guys doesn't care about you neither, but you know he will think about your for a second, counting his money to buy some can of crappy beer.

Sometimes, the bum plays some music, and something like Strung Out in Heaven comes out.
Something he calls "superior greatness", anyway, let's just call it an album.

A rocky ballad takes you directly out on the road, "Going to Hell" is a sweet rocky shaky little tune, gathering all the BJM basics: a skinny guitar, a raging tambourine and a psycheledic key board.
Switch on the engine, let the warm wind blow in your hair, let the dust stick on your shades and just enjoy the desert.
Only listening to the intro, ya can imagine what the Rolling Stones could have sound like if they were born in the 70s and if they were american.
The nest song is totally different, with "Let's Pretend It's Summer" the sun of the american dusty highways has vanished and all you face is the depressing winter grey sky.
The 80's videogames alike orgamon dominates the entire song, funny for a song whose lyrics celebrates pleasures, seasides, laughters and happiness. It's like feeling the wintertime sun on your face, your nose is cold, but it feels alright. Joy and happiness has no season, after all.
"Wasting Away", opening with a shaking harmonica part is one of the only tune featuring some social and society consideration, where Anton is asking himself about how youth is corrupted by school and turned into robots. And what about teachers? Well, according to him, it's not even their fault.

The band's immoderate taste for retro 60's psychedelic music is perfectly illustrated by "Jennifer", a small irreal love song led by some brilliant harmonies and a beautiful doubled voice.
You can easily hear at the end of the sentences where Jack White took his particular "country love" voicetone.
The next tune is much more into the BJM classics in terms of sound, rythm and structure, a bored fan could use the adjective "conventional", but as an hardcore fan I'd go for "classic", because of the women backup singers and the crippled piano. By the way, the title was "Got My Eye On You".
Let's continue with the choral songs starring "Nothing To Lose" and its multi vocal harmonies exposing some very interesting personal statements like "but Jesus wouldn't walk in your shoes,
because you're so fucking stupid got nothing to use".

People are pretty much used of seeing Anton Newcombe going mad on stage, but recorded testimonials of angryness are quite unusual. The fact opposites attract is very true when you listen to the well titled "Love", which is about love that is, after all surrounding you, everywhere you go, a topic reminding you that this band is one of the greatest 60s revivalist bands ever.
"Maybe Tomorrow" and his slow melancholy will come with its sweet lonely and sad guitar pattern, maybe this Anton is just a little punished kid standing in the corner of the room. He just wants to play with the others kids, you, me perhaps ?
The guitar and its special reverbered echo still serves a cajolating and nice song, like if he was trying to give to his little sister a consolating hug: "This boy has shit for brain, you're my sunshine...".
When the backup psychedelic keybords takes the lead helped with some violon and trumpets, nobody can deny the very descent and original Psychedelic garage symphony orchestra approach of the band. Anton Newcombe (him again) being able to play more thant 80 different instruments.
Sometimes the songs can turn into strange irish settler balad tone "I've Been Waiting", a slow raging guitar appearing only at the end of the tune.
"Dawn", a short contemplative song about a girl seen in a dream, will leave you speechless in front the amount of love you can find in this tough heroin cookie.

The great final of the album are, without any doubt plausible "Lantern", a song about freedom and happy achievements that can guide you during your entire life. The soft melody and the smooth voice, the ever carefree guitar with its melancholic tone is a good piece of postmodern American music.
The second masterpiece of the album is also the very last song "Wisdom" and its disrupted weird stoner chords is showing us a total original creative insight, bringing some old new, or some new old on stage.

To be honest my friends, I really don't know what to say apart the fact that this band is my early year crush. That's simple.
No band has ever mixed so well absolute crap and sparks of true genius and spontaneous intelligence. (check when Jeff Davies is Bugging at 4:15, and when he feels really alone at 1:16 in the second video).
Where the hell was I in 1995, oh, hold on, I was 8. I'm 21 now.

Better late than never right? Nobody punched me, so I guess I'm clear.