The Brian Jonestown Massacre

From the ferry, I get back on 163 to head out of Marblehead. I get onto a large road which I plan on taking to US 6 which will bring me along the northern edge of Ohio to Rocky River, a suburb of Ohio where my grandmother lives. I get off on 6 and begin following it with no problems until I run into a detour. Fine, I will just follow the detour signs and get back on 6 except it turns out not to be that easy. I follow the signs for awhile and I keep going down smaller and smaller roads to the south and east and west and everywhere else, and the signs keep getting smaller and less frequent until I am convince I missed something. I keep going in the direction I am heading in for awhile then decide to just take a road that seems like it heads east towards Cleveland and see where I can get to from there. I know I am south of 2, a large interstate-sized road that leads to Cleveland and runs parallel to 6 to the south. I figure if I cross 2 and continue north, I will get to 6. Of course it is not that simple and I get turned around all sorts of different ways. I drive down a spiraling downhill road into some park somewhere, and turn around and backtrack a bit until I find a more promising road. Eventually I can see 2, the large road I don’t really want to be on, but I know if I take it for a little bit I can get off and head north and hopefully skip all the construction that was causing the detour on 6. I get off and head north and run into 6 just as I had anticipated. From there it’s a ride through all sorts of suburbs along the shore of Lake Erie until it runs into Rocky River. I stop to fill up my tank and ask for directions, and I am happily right near where I want to be. A couple of turns takes me to Detroit Road, and another brings me onto Wooster, and one more to Parkland Drive, and I am at Grandma’s. I drive halfway down the road and I see my aunt’s van in the driveway, and then see my ten-year old cousin Isaac walking down the street towards the park. I pull up to him on my bike, donning fully my road gear, and say hello. He gets an odd look on his face, the why is this stranger talking to me look, and says a cautious hello, until I take my helmet off so he can recognize me. I pull into my grandma’s house and greet my aunt and grandma and my two other younger cousins. It’s around five and soon dinner is on and we eat a good meal except for Isaac and Makela, who have to be prodded to eat their veggies and meatloaf.
I rest up and clean up and get ready for the Brian Jonestown Massacre show at the Grog Shop, which is on the other side of Cleveland. The band has just finished a small west coast tour and Eric in Seattle told me that when he arrived part way into the show, they were jamming out hard, but also the lead singer got into a yelling match with a fan. Jared in Salt Lake told me that when he got to the club early the lead singer was banging on the door and in a generally pissed off mood. Later when the show started the lead singer started yelling at a fan who was antagonizing him after three songs, and when that guy got kicked out, they played two more songs and the lead singer just quit, and that was the end of the show. This is to be anticipated, based on the reputation of the Brian Jonestown Massacre. I have heard that their shows are either laced with fights and bad starts and early quits and such bullshit as that, or else they are incredible and long and perfect. I can only hope the show goes well tonight at the Grog Shop. I take my grandma’s car for a change of transportation. It’s amazing how less stressful it is to drive a car. You are protected from the wind and cold and elements, you can sit comfortably and move around and readjust yourself and listen to the radio, and not have to worry about other cars not seeing you. You don’t have to balance and lean and use your body as a steering mechanism. I make it to the general neighborhood of the club before getting lost. I am getting turned around in circles among a bunch of different hospitals, and the directions I scrawled down quickly in Cincinnati aren’t helping much. Eventually I find the road I am supposed to be on, but it seems like a quiet residential street that doesn’t have a rock club on it. I follow it for a little bit and see it opens up into a square with businesses and restaurants, and there is the club too. Parking is easy and there are a bunch of people milling around outside of the club. I walk up to get my ticket and show the bouncer my ID and since no one asks me for money and I already have a stamp on my hand I just go in. I thought they were charging fifteen bucks, at least that is what the website said, but maybe they aren’t. I’m not complaining. I enjoy a PBR tallboy while I am waiting for the first band to come on, and they eventually start, and they are pretty mediocre. I think they are called Coffinberry. Not really worth listening to. The second band, The Stereo Workers Union, is much better, with a real sixties psychedelic sound. It’s good, but it sort of sounds like they are trying to hard to be The Brian Jonestown Massacre on Their Satanic Majesties Second Request. They rock pretty hard though. All the while, Anton Newcombe, the lead singer and nucleus of The Brian Jonestown Massacre is hanging out in the back in the DJ booth, standing around with some tight mailman pants and beads. Before they start, I buy a limited edition print with the venue and date and bands on it, and a weird picture of a dude on an old timey bike that one of the band members in The Stereo Workers Union made. It’s a pretty rad design, and I feel fortunate to have a unique piece of artwork from the show. Even after both opening bands are finished, and his band is all set up, he is back there with the DJ putting records on for at least a half hour. Everyone is getting restless and looking back at him, thinking when the hell is this guy getting on stage?
Finally he gets on, and they open the set with Whoever You Are, which has probably the best drum, uh, breakdown?/mini solo?/riff? ever. Anton is shaking and bouncing and yells at his band members constantly through the first few songs. They go into Nailing Honey to the Bee from there. They have to stop When Jokers Attack and restart it because he is pissed off it doesn’t sound right. I have tried to push my way to the front, but at this point I am about fifteen feet out. Some dude next to me starts talking to me and it turns out that he is down from Detroit where he has a band that has a similar psychedelic sound and he is into motorcycles so he is pretty impressed when I tell him about my trip. He’s a cool dude, but really Tony, I just want to watch and listen to the show. During the first part of the show, I can’t tell if Anton is going to explode and ruin the show or not. He yells at his band members a few times, and yells at some fans that are harassing him and gets a few booted out, including one who threw a lit cigarette on stage. Smoking isn’t allowed in the bar anyway, but at one point the whole place smells like pot nonetheless. They keep playing all of their most awesome songs and Anton occasionally yells at a fan, but overall he gets into a good mood and even begins joking around with the crowd. At one point a half-assed mosh pit begins which opens up enough space for me to push into the second row right next to the stage, so I can get up close and see the band and have my ears hurt with how loud it is. It’s well past two AM when the bar has to shut down and they have to finish their set. They go out with Swallowtail, and drag it out for a good twenty minutes, laying down their guitars by the amps for the feedback and leaving the stage. Of the six members, only Anton and one other guy stay and manipulate the amps for the finale. Everyone is booted out as soon as they are done since it’s “way past bar hours” according to one of the bouncers. All in all it was nearly three hours that they played, and for The Brian Jonestown Massacre, one of the most calm, face-meltingly awesome sets one could ask for. Especially after hearing about The Brian Jonestown Massacre botching shows at other places, and seeing Dig! (even though by now it is well dated) I feel like I got all I could have hoped for, and I drive home with my ears ringing, thoroughly rocked.