The Brian Jonestown Massacre - My Bloody Underground (A)
1/5
By: Michael Cragg
If ever there was a band that lived more on reputation then the quality of their musical output, it's The Brian Jonestown Massacre. With each passing album (and there have been a lot of them), lead singer and founder Anton Newcombe's desperation to be remembered as some misunderstood genius that fought against the trappings of the mainstream becomes more and more obvious. And yet as every new release slides aimlessly by, it's clear that The Brian Jonestown Massacre will only ever be remembered as the band that appeared in Dig!, a hilarious documentary that revealed the band's struggle to keep up with former friends The Dandy Warhols as their careers took off. Newcombe, of course, was the star, mainly because of his overwrought musings on his own talent, coupled with the fact that he had an entertaining habit of sacking his own band members or kicking paying audience members in the face.
Their thirteenth studio album, My Bloody Underground, certainly won't make them stars or increase their audience, in fact, if anything, it may frustrate even those that have stood by them down the years. Firstly, that title says it all, a not very clever amalgam of My Bloody Valentine and The Velvet Underground, that tries to place them in a lineage that they resolutely do not belong in. There may be an attempt to match the atmospherics of the former or the minimalism of the latter, but in truth it all just sounds like a hopeless mess.
There's also the sense that Newcombe's already rampant ego has finally left its moorings, given that nearly every song title screams "look at me, I'm so controversial and anti-establishment". So, the opening song is entitled 'Bring Me The Head of Paul McCartney on Heather Mills' Wooden Leg (Dropping Bombs on The White House)', and in the end it's the most interesting part of the song. For six long minutes the listener is left trying to decipher any of the lyrics whilst musically it's just layers and layers of badly recorded dirge. Elsewhere, 'Who Pissed In My Well?' is a synth-led drone, whilst the awfully named 'We Are The Ni**ers of The World' starts off as a palatable piano ballad, before outstaying its welcome by about four minutes.
To be honest, I don't remember much else; such is the sheer struggle of having to endure the album's 78 minutes. As much as the myth of The Brian Jonestown Massacre is fascinating- hence the fact that the film did so well- it's clear that musically things have become very boring indeed. Giving your songs ridiculously immature titles smacks of attention seeking, and perhaps that's all Newcombe wants, but perhaps it's time to find another outlet for all his frustrations.
Artists in this article: The Brian Jonestown Massacre
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