High tides and green grass
Forget the stories, OK? The Brian Jonestown Massacre is about the music, and if you go online, the music is free!

By J.H. Tompkins

I DECIDED TO scrap the original lead to this interview with Anton Newcombe of the Brian Jonestown Massacre, because I took a cheap shot at an easy target and didn't feel good about it. So, following the advice of my first writing teacher, I "killed my children" and moved on. But because I liked that dead kid, and because I came up with a different lead – about scrapping my lead – I thought it would be OK to tell you what the original was: "Any asshole can kick off a Web site with the words 'keep music evil ...,' but it takes a real ..." You get the idea, right? The fact is, although I've seen Newcombe onstage 10 or 15 times over the years, all I know about him is what I read – and I know what that's worth.

When you go to www.brianjonestownmassacre.com you'll find that singular declaration of purpose – I assume that's what it is. Had almost any other band I can think of used the phrase as a rallying cry, it would have sounded silly; but in this case, there's a faint whiff of menace. The site offers directions to find out more, if you're interested, by featuring this statement: "Anton Newcombe does not support the recently screened documentary film 'DIG!' [about the Brian Jonestown Massacre] in its currently edited form. He feels strongly that the 'Jerry Springer-esque' vilification of his nature is an inappropriate, mis contextualized, and exploitative use of the footage ... read on...."

Newcombe has presided over a fair share of commotion during his tenure with the band, and rightly or wrongly, the curious can further explore by ferreting out the film or by searching the Web. But the bottom line is this: the Brian Jonestown Massacre – formed in the Bay Area more than 10 years ago – has been so good for so long that I don't care what Newcombe or anybody else did.

A right-thinking member of the local music community recently challenged my ambivalence, implying that I'm a leading lamb in a nation of sheep ("Nobody cares about anything!" he shouted. "Where does it stop?! Doesn't the media have a responsibility?"). He went on to accuse me of having a moral blind spot. But fuck it, who has time to worry about that shit?

Do you know that early Wailers song "Trenchtown Rock," on which Bob Marley sings, "One good thing about music / When it hits you feel no pain"? If you're unfamiliar with the song, you should go get familiar because it's that good, although if I were Marley – shut up, OK? – I'd have added a few things to the list, including this: one good thing about music is that it doesn't matter if the concept behind a concept band is pretty strange, because bands don't have to make sense or to explain their raison d'être. Unless it really matters to me, that is.

Which sums up some of my feelings about the Brian Jonestown Massacre, a band singularly concerned with keeping alive the memory and cultural contributions of long-dead Rolling Stone Brian Jones. It's true that without Jones, Mick and Keith's rock and roll adventure would most likely have never gotten off the ground. And there's no denying that Jones was the cute one, that he provided the musical vision that broke the band, and that his former mates did him wrong. Does that warrant a years-long musical tribute? Well, the existence of BJM is its own excuse.

Besides, it's not just that any band exploring issues of the day like "Prozac vs. Heroin," as BJM does on its latest, And This Is Our Music, is speaking my language. The fact is that BJM has a body of work as consistently strong and original as that of any band active during the '90s. But more than that, go to the Web site and you'll find that not only has Newcombe made the band's albums available, but he's also posted live recordings, interview material, and odd bits of BJM graffiti. And it's all there, free of charge.

I could hardly believe it, so I tracked him down last week to discuss the situation.

Bay Guardian: I understand why it makes sense to post some of BJM's catalog as a kind of teaser – as a way of getting new listeners interested in the band. But I went to the Web site yesterday, and it was all up there. What gives?

Anton Newcombe: Well, if you get right down to it, record sales weren't generating a lot of money, and the fact is that what I really want is for people to hear the music. I mean, that's why every musician starts playing in the first place, as a way of communicating. And so I made it available at the Web site.

BG: Is there a way of describing what you've done as part of a business plan?

AN: Well, sure, you just say it's part of a plan. Whether it's a sound plan is another thing entirely. But do you know what? We've had over a million hits at the Web site since the spring. So something is happening.

BG: You've been a strong enough leader of the band over the years so that the sound has been remarkably consistent. And yet it seems like just putting the music out there is the opposite of this.

AN: When you listen to the music, you hear the power of what real art can do. That's what's important. I'm not that impressed with mainstream culture these days. I've got my spot in life, I'm comfortable here, and I can create from here.

BG: Have people advised you to not be quite so generous with the music?

AN: Look, over a million people – a million – have been to the Web site. So when the band goes into a city that isn't a mainstream place, people can find out about the band, about our music. They'll come out and see us. What better way is there us to get out there? The Internet has changed things very fundamentally. I really believe that.