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The following article, written by Basile FARKAS first appeared in French magazine Rock&Folk.
It has been translated, with the kind permission of Mr Farkas, for the benefit of non french reading fans.
Flomotions is not affiliated with Rock&Folk in any way and does not necessarily shares the views and opinions aired in this article.
After more than ten years of misfortunes, the californian ensemble gets out of its psychedelic underground and sells out venues all over France.
Three nights and two days with the presumed mad Anton Newcombe.
Bus mislaid, lost in space. It's gone 6.30 pm and the PR guy starts to slightly panic. At the beginning of the afternoon the band was here, parked in front of the 'Maison de la Radio' (Radio House), early by many hours for their little evening acoustic show, intended to be broadcasted live on the 'youth' program of the public radio.
However Anton Newcombe and his mates have now gone off radar. The only link with the band is the cell number of an unknown road manager. One of the label's employee is gone on a lead, Jack Bauer style. Long wait. The Brian Jonestown's bus is finally located, on the other side of Paris, subway station Crimee. All deadlines have come and gone for the radio show. Resigned, the PR guy goes announcing the news and proposes a dodgy deal to the people of the show. Instead of the planned session, the lucky listeners can now enter a draw and win 'a pair of Anton Newcombe's socks', forgotten by the artist on his last visit to Paris (clean socks). Anyway, after the band's first visit to the Rennes' Transmusicales 2005, Rock&Folk got stood up for it's second rendezvous with America's sub culture's notorious reject, Newcombe, 39 years old, 8 albums and a damned documentary. under his belt. Only certainty, the man is in town ready to spread his neo-psychedelic venom over many French cities. Our hunt begins.
Two RERs and subway trains later, Anton is finally spotted in an average bar of the 19th arrondissement. Quick hello, nothing fancy. Greying temples, face puffed up, sailor's hat and denim shirt, the 'leader supremo' gives his explanation for cancelling the radio broadcast: "I would have loved to play for the French people, on French radio but...we would have travelled thousands of kilometres to come here and play with just two guitars? All that because your sound engineers are too lazy to plug in our gear? No way...I want a real gig or nothing. But beware, alone with a guitar I can blow the whole thing up if I want, but not here. Not tonight."
At the table with him, two Englishmen, squat and bald, Paul and Dave.
The first one drives the tour bus, the other simultaneously assumes the role of permissive child minder and sound engineer.
Rob Campanella is also here, peacefully sipping his whisky. Since the beginning of this century, he's been playing the organ and sometimes the guitar for the BJM.
A new bottle of wine arrives. With an impeccable seriousness, Newcombe gives a kooky theory on the temperature at which this beverage should be served- we'll see how this man always has a theory, a thought, an hypothesis to share. Whatever the subject. During this time, chat with the amiable Rob, only too happy to talk about his own band, The Quarter After, sounding more psychedelic than psychedelic. A second album is finished and Rob is hoping to release it soon. "You must have seen the documentary, I imagine? 'Dig!'? Well, if you can imagine it, the Australian tour in 2004, was 'Dig!' Times 10...a complete madness. 2 out of the 4 gigs planned had to be cancelled. Never seen such chaos." Anton? Gone to order another vodka orange. Then, he shares with Rob the pairs of socks left with the PR guy.
We learn on the way that every night, backstage, the Brian Jonestown demands six pairs of black socks. Concerned with foot hygiene? Not only. Anton admits: "in fact we ask for six pairs because it looks good. In truth, it's Frankie who likes to play with them, at night, in his bunk. You know what I mean ?"
The conversation gets lost...
Rob inadvertedly spills a glass of wine on the tour manager. "Doesn't matter, it looks psychedelic." The bar is about to close. It's 9 pm, a friday and The BJM haven't anything planned for tonight.
Anton: "I was offered an evening with models and coke, but I don't feel like it, it's gonna be full of wankers and techno music blaring out."
After negotiations and a vodka bill rising to €70 for Newcombe, the Rock&Folk delegation manages to pack this group to the Fanfaron, welcoming 'Bastille' rock bar.
A first cab leaves. Passing by The Bataclan, Anton brands the Australian band playing here tonight, Jet, of "dirty bastards".
In the other car, Dave explains his role on the road with the dangerous Americans: "on top of the difficulty of sound engineering a band with 3 guitars, my job is to prevent Anton from starting bottle number 2 before the gig. If I succeed, all is well.
The gig at La Cigale [June 26th of this year] was an exception. Anton didn't want to play and was in a murderous mood, totally wasted. In that instance, the audience carried the band. It was one of their best shows."
Back at the bar. Dave and Paul have reached a gentle level of hooliganism and noisily burst out laughing.
More poised, Rob grabs another whisky and offers an exhaustive panorama of this whole psychedelic, 'shoegaze' music scene, where The Warlocks, BJM and The Dandy Warhols are the most famous losers. Joyous atmosphere, Garage playing, Anton Newcombe is lucid and chats to whoever wishes to, promising to half the patrons to put their names down on the guest list to the next day's gig [which will be done].
Systematically, he removes the filter on his fags before smoking them. Theory No 1: " When you smoke grass, Coke, Heroine, Opium, Crack, you feel like inhaling real smoke, you see." Anton hesitates to DJ and finally opts for vodka shots." Far too sweet, I would prefer it without syrup."
Worried about the state of intoxication reaching the band, the label's guys suggest a reasonable return to the nest. Anton wants to stay but ends up going with the flow. "I would like, I would like to, but they need me you understand, I need to bring them back."
After buying a bottle, The BJM goes back to its bus. First evening without damage.
Saturday, the bus needed four hours to reach the Elysee- Montmartre. By foot, going from the car park to the venue shouldn't exceed twenty minutes...Backstage, Anton Newcombe distractedly scans various conversations. Sitting straight up on the sofa, wearing yesterday's clothes, he looks focused, worried even. Much more relaxed, the other five happily chat away.
The backstage rider has been plundered and Dave demands that anyone not part of the band leaves the premises before the gig.
A lot is at stake. The Elysee- Montmartre is sold out, which was also the case the last time The Dandy Warhols passed by.
Surprisingly The BJM are on stage on time. Very early at 8 pm because of a party starting after the show.
The group is in an half circle and Anton is on the right, standing back. 'Whoever You Are' and his 'dragging' bass line offers a flamboyant start. Quite slow, the track goes up progressively, with long guitar attacks which very quickly turn into a real wall of sound. Anton Newcombe is certainly not a great singer, but his lamenting voice is totally moving on the most pivotal tracks.
"Please, play by the rules" does he repeat on 'Nevertheless', maybe his absolute classic, superbly interpreted.
Even Rob is on guitar. The first half of the show is a feast for the fans. 'Nailing Honey To The Bee', 'That Girl Suicide' and its 'Velvetish' riff, obsessively played, 'Who?' and its pleasing chorus ("Whoooo? ") screamed by 1200 spectators. The singer addresses the audience, deadpan: "Hey, you are the number ones...for traffic jams! It's unbelievable! " And Anton explains his misfortunes in the traffic, furious. Unlike his close foes The Dandy Warhols, Newcombe doesn't really like to keep up with the takings of a successful gig. Both these bands have got an eight minutes track to hand, just to interrupt the flow. Tonight 'Evergreen' and 'Jennifer' will wonderfully fulfil that part. The band has lost it and the gig escapes them. Anton seems too drunk to be any good, quite simply. By chance, whenever he stutters on a solo - he gets all of them- the other five assume, royally.
Dan Allaire, notably, is a powerful drummer who pulls the band upwards whenever everybody else slows down. The show gets started again with 'When Jokers Attack' from 2003, whose riff is an almost integral rip off of 'Godless', major track for...The Dandy Warhols!
Requested by the public, 'Servo' triggers an unanimous ovation. The song opens "Dig!" and that's probably the reason why people know it a bit better than the other ones, whatever says the boss. The concert finishes with 'Swallowtail' stretched into an endless feedback session. Sonic Youth and Kevin Shields themselves would have found the process trying. Because of it, the end is rather strange, without any warmth. Almost two hours on stage and no encore. Never. Therefore mixed feelings. After the huge evening at La Cigale, there is nothing ground breaking tonight. And notably, no new song has been played.
What to do after such a gig? Sitting on the floor, Anton Newcombe sips his vodka, in a little corridor backstage.
A flock of fans have come to hear him confer. Them, hoping for a sliver of outstanding statement, him inane and downcast, words slow and slurred due to the consumed alcohol. Much more upbeat, the others seem animated by the thought of going partying on a Saturday night. A bit earlier the band was having fun, having their photo taken with a giant banana soft toy, the one from The Velvet Underground seen at various concerts. Already Frankie Teardrop would set himself apart by taking the most idiotic poses.
Frankie Teardrop...In the role of the amusing cretin, "Dig!" already had the perfect character, Joel Gion, the mascot with the tambourin and wacky glasses. Absent from the movie [even though he has been a BJM for seven years], Frankie would also have burst out of the screen. Despite his 'classy' pseudonym, from a Suicide's song, this Frankie is an homage to permanent cretinism, a seven year old child trapped in an adult's body. The road manager constantly keeps an eye on him, more than with the others.
Once the gear is packed away - a roadie and a guitar technician have been employed - Paul gets in his bus and drives it back to its secure car park at La Villette. In the sitting area of their house on wheels, International Anton discusses geopolitics with a fan.
Newcombe is not only a monomaniac devotee of Brian Jones and Charles Manson. He can also talk about economics, literature, cinema, history with a perfect reasoning every time. Presently, the tottering Newcombe wants to be right at any price without having to argument. A slight vodka induced exhaustion is felt. Understandable. The bus is safe for tonight and in theory the band can depart tomorrow without having had their trailer [full of gear] stolen. Dave gathers the troupe. All of them having forgotten to eat today, it's unanimously decided to go to a restaurant. Everything is closed in the area. No cab in sight. Rock&Folk suggests the subway. And miraculously, the holiday camp that is The BJM embarks the last train of the night, towards the centre of Paris.
Pete Doherty was partying recently at The Ritz, The Brian Jonestown Massacre prefers a less select establishment that serves Carpaccio generously. In the restaurant, decorated like a cheap Roman palace, The Brian Jonestown suddenly resemble abominable freaks, watched over by the frightened waiters.
Straight away, Anton orders a triple Bloody Mary and conscientiously empties the bread basket. The atmosphere loosens up once the dishes and the wine arrive. General tiredness, chocolate mousse and the bill, paid separately after an endless discussion between these mentally handicapped, when it comes to maths. What to do now?
A hypothetical party is awaiting the band in a Pigalle pub, where Rick Maymi [guitar 12 strings] already is. Indecision once more.
Frankie stares at a lighted billboard on the boulevards, as if on acid. Drained, Anton goes back to the bus, accompanied by Collin Hegna, cap wearing bassist. With no other option, the rest of the group goes towards the nocturnal bar. On foot, obviously. In the 9th arrondissement, a group of teenagers recognises The Brian Jonestown. Young fans who were at the concert and then went to wait for the sextet at the pub. Frankie sniffs with pleasure from a small vial of poppers presented by one of the kids, and then carries on towards Pigalle, elated. The pub is finally located. Aware of the changing of hours to wintertime, the group intends to make the most of their Parisian night. "Hey, we get an extra drinking hour, right ?" enquires Rob. Right place to party, but a really noisy bar where some fans occupy some tables. A young Scottish waiter decides to systematically take his idols' orders. A bit further another one talks about his own band, Tours' rejects named after a BJM song, Prosac Vs Heroin Loaded Band. Rob repeats this name, daydreaming faced with such toxic devotion.
As a consequence of "Dig!", a large amount of The BJM's adoring fans stay fascinated by the band's life style as depicted in the movie. In a nutshell: getting wasted to the max, permanent chaos and attempts of psychedelic 'coup d'etat' going lamentably wrong. The vision offered ten years after the documentary's first images is a little less romantic: thirty-somethings a tad frayed around the edges, who laugh and down pints in a pub for tourists. No signs of an orgy of narcotics and not really any groupies either. Just a few kisses, gratefully accepted by the witless Frankie. An American, who doesn't know the band at all, decides to treat his compatriots to some drinks. The evening is relaunched. Slumped against the bar, the drummer vegetates. Rob calmly talks about The Byrds and Frankie does whatever he likes. The manager is going back to the bus and asks of Rock&Folk to bring back the last three BJMs safe and sound. 6 am Blanche square. Frankie French kisses Travis, the unpleasant roadie with the one only sentence (" You the press, you are the enemy "). Still no cab in sight, so once more the subway. Frankie decides to get in there sliding against the stairs' ramp, why not. Changing trains at Stalingrad, a guy proposes some hash to Frankie and Dan. Immediately the two are interested, discussion.
Twenty meters further the three are still chatting away, only they don't understand each other. Suddenly Dan realises that his wallet has disappeared from his pocket. Translation for Mr Dealer interrupted. Rob intervenes, chivalrous, and gets the wallet back from the surrounded pick pocket. 7 am, return to the bus. Anton is still awake, stretched on the seats, still in his parka and hat. The wallet anecdote interests him very highly. "Shit, you should have brought this guy back to the bus. I would have terminated him" does he declare before imagining fifteen different scenarios of possible torture. "Dan, please, pretends it's your wallet and pass me the lighter." This will become the recurring joke of the night. The BJMs are now all aboard the bus and that no mean feat. Some have gone to sleep in the shoe boxes considered bunks. The moment has finally arrived to witness the huge drug scene of this article. Not really, in fact. Here again The BJM 2006 offers a small budget show. If earlier on the drummer took an E without much effect, Travis offers the boss what's left of his Ketamine, in other words nothing, a measly line for Anton and Frankie. The bus can now get to its next destination, Rennes. On the ring road, the leader of The BJM confesses his desire to buy an old Citroen DS. " I would cut out the roof and fit out giant speakers that would play this in any key (he sings some old Edith Piaf) full blast." Anton goes to sleep and leaves the Rock&Folk team to rest in the lounge, but not without starting a Z-list Blaxploitation movie in the DVD player, volume to the max.
A few hours later, The BJMmobile is immobilised on a motorway services close to Rennes. Anton is the first one up and has kept on yesterday's clothes. Theory No 2: "There is nothing worst than having a wash and then getting back into your dirty clothes." In any case, nobody has been able to have a wash. Any traces of a hang over are minimal on Newcombe, epic tours regular. " The bus we had on the last tour was awful, without air conditioning in the middle of the summer. I thought that we wouldn't make it. This one is ok. Right, what do we do? How about we put some stuff in the microwave and see what happens. Even better, let's leave the toaster switched on until it blows up." Anton moans, wants a drink and hesitates to get to Rennes on foot (I can do it, you know) and finally goes stretching his legs in the gas station where he'll find a new approach with the local shopkeepers. " I think that I've found the trick, I didn't say a word, so the check out girl thought that I was French. Otherwise they take me for a nutter, I scare them. Nasty bastards, globally. Can't wait to get to Scandinavia."
Rennes an hour later. Arriving at UBU, venue with a Dadaist architecture, supposed to suggest the shape of an ear.
Question mark regarding the venue's setting. Any worries are quickly replaced by the need to go to the bar. Anton assures that he recognises all the streets of the city since his hallucinating visit to the Transmusicales, a year earlier." I'd love to go into that alley way, with all the bars."
Except it's barely 1pm and Rennes is still recovering from its saturday night. The team ends up in a brasserie. New Bloody Mary with Rick, who opts for a lemon juice. The singer is a little under the weather but refuses any medication. Theory No 3: " Aspirin turns my stomach to jelly, I assure you." The afternoon goes by slowly. Sound check is precise and Ubu's staff are fussing over. They've been waiting for the Californians, firmly, frustrated by their 2005 appearance in Brittany. Afterwards many Brian Jonestown.
make the most of the venue's wi-fi connection to go check their myspace page. Delicious diner in the canteen, Frankie jokes, Rick has put on an amazing tunic. Anton has stayed aside with his vodka orange, concentrated on his shiny Mac laptop, getting up to date his giant iPod. The atmosphere is a lot friendlier than yesterday. The audience arrives, DJ Kokosnoot plays suitable music (The Warlocks) and the support act, The People's Revolutionary Choir, starts their set. Excellent performance, intending to be "shoegazing" yet very energetic. The English even get asked for an encore. Compared with the previous night, The Brian Jonestown seem transformed. Almost the same tracks, only everything is a success. The venue is packed to the seams. Excited audience. Even the usual misfortunes are unimportant. Rick Maymi gets a lighted cigarette in his face. Newcombe moans in principle, nothing much. Frankie has decided to start on Rob's Bourbon, the two fight over the bottle between each number. Anton gives up his Vox for a moment and Frankie chooses a twelve-strings, also a Vox. We're therefore counting 34 guitars and bass strings vibrating through the vintage amps. Hypnotising at the very least. From the right of the stage, Anton scrutinises the other five, always ready for a reprimand. It's guaranteed. Anton abruptly stops playing on an intro, looking furious: " Rob, stop that immediately, can't you hear that you are out of tune. " Rob: " Hum, I haven't played a single note yet. " Newcombe mutters something and starts again.
The apocalyptic drone at the end, is this time totally listenable. Rick Maymi knows his stuff when it comes to twisting echoes and the drummer, who's still here, beats some impressive, repetitive drum rolls. However, even in top form, The BJM doesn't really know how to improvise. Apart from that, fantastic gig.
Backstage the promoter has decided to offer Champagne. Anton dips his lips in it to be polite but prefers his aromatised vodka.
Theory No 4: " I only drink vodka, other alcohols are full of sugar, it's bad. And you must be really stupid to think that you could get drunk with, let's say, some beer! Bankers drink that. " Good spirited, he has even put on a clean T-shirt, for the first time this week-end. The BJM troops are together and happy to be here. The concert went well and Anton Newcombe is as sweet as honey.
The sextet still have a month of touring Europe. Night after night, the set list barely varies. Totally frustrating for a back catalogue containing over a hundred tracks. More worrying: The BJM doesn't play a single new song. Sore subject. This summer, The Brian Jonestown Massacre went to a London studio but things didn't go very well. No date has been given so far regarding the release of an album. Worrying for someone who in 1996 released three records of high standard. Is Newcombe's prolifically creative period behind him? Anton shouts to the contrary. At least the half-hobos from California collect a little success - and some money - well deserved after years of struggle. The stall selling T-shirts, badges and vinyls is sold out every night. Joel Gion and his tambourin will join the band in a few days. In the night, The Brian Jonestown Massacre gets back on the road, towards Barcelona. It's said that the incessant activity of the Catalan capital city could unhinge the combo's fragile equilibrium. That's right, The Brian Jonestown Massacre: a band where it can all go pear-shaped, anywhere and anytime. So we leave Newcombe to his alcohol induced soft moroseness. And for now, all is well.
Words: Basile FARKASTranslation from French: Florence ACHERY
rocknfolk.com |
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Rock&Folk 473
january 2007
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Who are you Anton Newcombe?
Born in California during The summer of love, August 29 1967, at the beginning of the 90s, Newcombe founded The BJM of which he is the absolute despot. Since the first album (“Methodrone”, 1995) about forty musicians have been part of the band, which has also released eight albums and two Eps. In 2004 Ondi Timoner’s documentary “Dig!” follows, on the big screen, the interacting adventures of The BJM and The Dandy Warhols. Anton has repeatedly vilified the movie.
It’s true that the somewhat dishonest editing, portrays him as a complete psychopath. Happy outcome, since the release of the movie, the combo has finally accessed its deserved popularity: packed gigs in ‘real’ venues, re-release of their albums, CDs, vinyls... |
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