The appropriately vintage Mascotte in Zürich was the ideal venue in which to take part in the era-hopping musical double-bill of a krautrock-inspired LeVent and the psychedelic and style-shifting Anton Newcombe project The Brian Jonestown Massacre.
Flaunting powerful material from their self-titled debut LP, produced by Newcombe himself, the unassuming Berlin-based trio LeVent proved an ideal mood-setting act for the evening to come.
Bass VI player and vocalist Heike Rädeker showed off her powerful vocal range from delicately folkesy, akin to Chelsea Wolfe, to a storming punk rock harpy of growling and textured screams. The combination of two bass guitars and one very energetic drummer (who was only the first to be wearing sunglasses that night in the not-terribly-bright room) fused seamlessly in a krautrock blend of motorik rhythms and clean, funky bass riffs. This was most prominent in their set’s highlight, the hefty “Lighter Thief / Empathy”, adapted from their EP. Rädeker’s hypnotic voice drawing the crowd deeper into that tunnel of dark and stripped-down psychedelia as Maryana Russo’s complementary bass and Frank Neumeier’s ever-building and tight as a screw drumlines tied the sound together. A short but sweet supporting set, LeVent flourished on stage and delivered an energetic punk-fuelled kickstart to the aural time-machine that their follow-up would send into overdrive.
Founded by multi-instrumentalist Anton Newcombe in San Francisco in 1990, The Brian Jonestown Massacre may well be the definition of a cult band. Making their way from shoegaze and noisy dream pop to harder psychedelic and garage rock, the band represent almost two decades of experimentation and creativity driven by the ever-present Newcombe and a rotating line-up of band members.
While it might seem easy to categorise them squarely as a retro-styled psychedelic rock outfit trying to mimic a bygone era (especially given their roadie and extra guitarist who was sporting double-denim and a hairdo to put an Easy Rider-era Peter Fonda to shame), their on-stage attitude and seeming reluctance to care for just about anything demonstrated a post-hippie nihilism and existential frustration that embodies their own name, a blended reference to both 60’s rock and roll and a notorious late 70’s cult-led mass suicide.
Taking to the stage only once countless beer bottles had been strategically placed for the musicians and all but one donning the evening’s choice of light-inhibiting eyewear, the members of The Brian Jonestown Massacre flouted the rules of live performance in an unholy but surprisingly successful marriage of utter apathy and disdain with soulful and lush music; bassist Collin Hegna staring into a mental abyss for most of the performance and eccentric tambourinist Joel Gion explored the myriad ways a simple 1/4 beat per bar rhythm could be played, his hand bursting off the edge of his instrument while looking somewhat dazed or even bored.
Newcombe and co. showed off their latest material from this year’s taught new album Something Else, their later 80’s noise rock and neo-psychedelic influences showing clearly on tracks such as the pared-down “Who Dreams of Cats?” and the Syd Barrett-plays-Psychocandy “Animal Wisdom”. Not to leave the fans of earlier decades hanging, however, they also brought out back-catalogue classics such as the energetic and Beatles-esque “Who?” and a mellower rendition of the fan favourite “Anenome”, the latter sadly missing Mara Keagle’s vocal touch but whose heavier shuffling style more than ever fitting the lyrics “you should be picking me up, instead you’re dragging me down”.
Part way through the concert, the smell of 1967 rose in the air as guitarist Ricky Rene Maymi and keyboardist Rob Campanella shared a suspicious cigarette, the former even putting aside his instrument mid-song to drink from one of the pre-prepared beers by his mic stand. And yet despite, or perhaps because of, the band’s devil-may-care demeanour, the rich and hard-hitting sonic display set aside any doubts as to where their hearts lie: no extra energy spent on caring about stage-antics or a stereotypical “how’s everyone doing tonight?” (save one abstract anecdote about reincarnation and the fine line between spirituality and cult) meant that it was all about the music; the band at their best when delving fully into an improvised ‘freakout’ territory.
As if it wasn’t already clear how unashamedly cult The Brian Jonestown Massacre is, the final notes left hanging for the audience as the band exited the stage formed a vast wall of noise that, rather than coming to switch off an amplifier, Newcombe returned over the course of several minutes to increase the gain and blast the audience away, almost as if to encourage the onlookers to leave him alone or erase their memory of what they had just witnessed.
Undeniably brilliant and utterly individual, Newcombe’s ongoing musical exploration through his band was plain to see, and the many aspects of the word ‘cult’ certainly play a role in The Brian Jonestown Massacre’s journey.