It isn’t great weather for a gig, even though we’re indoors. There’s a cutting cold breeze from the door and my companion is pulling her zipped-up puffer jacket more tightly around herself. Vodka held in gloved hands has done nothing for my core temperature, which is struggling against some stiff opposition. I had expected some interesting outfits for this show, since we’re here to see two psychedelic bands, but upstairs at Brixton Academy tonight, gorpcore reigns supreme: it’s mostly hiking boots, waterproof sensible jackets and beanies. This is perhaps because everyone else knew it’d be bloody freezing, and I didn’t.
We’re here for an evening of sixties-style sunshine psychedelia with The Brian Jonestown Massacre. The band have been around since the ‘90s and have a lengthy back catalogue of luscious tunes. They were introduced to a lot of us in the film Dig!, a documentary that followed The Brian Jonestown Massacre and the Dandy Warhols and seemed to piss off both bands.
We got here nice and early so that we wouldn’t miss openers Les Big Byrd. They take the stage in zipped-up warm coats apart from the bass player, who leaves his undone. Their intro is reminiscent of Hillage-era Gong, but develops into something less introspective and more punchy. It’s a bit boomy from where we’re sitting, but we still get the full benefit of driving drums and bass with sparkly psychedelic interludes, which would probably be quite a magical experience in a smaller venue. And with heating.
I decide to go to the loo to warm my hands under the dryer while we wait for the Brian Jonestown Massacre and get waylaid by two blokes discussing the best view from the circle. We consider a couple of options, but reach agreement when one says ‘Needs to warm up though. It’s fucking freezing.’
After a drafty interlude, the Brian Jonestown Massacre take the stage to delighted whoops and wails. It’s a bit of damp start (maybe their fingers are cold) and the first two songs feel like a bit like a warm up (which would be understandable given the climate), but by the third song they’re hitting their stride and they’re wonderful. It’s not just that they have great tunes, it’s that those great tunes have delicious harmonies and lush textures, with dense guitars and layered organ. The drummer drives everything along energetically and holds the otherwise fairly laid back ensemble together. Between-song banter is mostly nice ‘thanks for coming’ and ‘thanks for buying tickets’ stuff, but there is a slightly awkward moment when the legendary Anton Newcombe declares ‘Mom, you said I’d never amount to anything but I’m headlining this venue and you’re dead – who’s laughing now?’
The crowd downstairs cheer every time a new song starts up, but their enthusiasm starts to wane ever so slightly as the wait between songs goes up. When a song finishes, some of the band sip drinks and guitars are switched over, which takes a while, and the momentum from the song they’ve just finished ebbs away before the next one gets started. The break is filled with a pedal note, a move that is a bit psychedelic, but brings to mind both an orchestra pausing to retune and the band’s glorious ‘Anemone’, which I keep thinking is going to start – until it finally does, to universal delight. Once I’ve stopped anticipating ‘Anemone’, the breaks between songs that were once a bit ponderous start to stretch towards the interminable, with discussions added to the drink and longer-seeming guitar switches. Their performance sometimes has the air of a hungover band practice, but without the tea and sugary drinks that get a person through the fuzziness. My companion now appears frozen solid and is staring ahead with an expression of agonised forbearance, while I stubbornly continue to enjoy the tunes. The singer from Les Big Byrd pops on stage to sing a song – I think it might be Pish – after a lengthy discussion. There’s another long pause, this time with flashing lights, and I wonder if the lampie is trying to hint that things need to move on a bit, in morse code. People have started trickling out of the seats in front of us and by the final note, the circle is pretty sparsely populated. We hold out until the end, then head quickly to the unnatural warmth of the Victoria line – usually unpleasantly stuffy, but for once completely welcome.
The Brian Jonestown Massacre spring tour continues.
Brian Jonestown Massacre: Website | Facebook | Instagram | Spotify
Les Big Byrd: Facebook | Instagram | Spotify | Bandcamp
Review by Hannah Boothby
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