photo by Ali Moran

If one assumes that true art begins in unhappiness, than the Brian Jonestown Massacre is the tragic sovereign of revisionist rock.

Although the award-winning 2004 documentary DiG!, which candidly details the escalating beef between BJM and the Portland-based Dandy Warhols, effectively put BJM on the map as notoriously troubled shoegazers, the band has come to represent something greater than mere  junkies-cum- struggling rock stars.

Championed by Alan McGee, toured with Oasis, BJM’s tumultuous 20 plus year revolving door of 40 or so band mates—including Black Rebel Motorcycle Club’s Peter Hayes and Sune Rose Wagner, the founding member of The Raveonettes—has led to a romanticized self-destruction, solidifying the band’s place as a cult favorite within the “keep music evil” category.

Only when I hear BJM do I believe that this is the Last Great Rock Band alive. Clearly, I am not alone.

It’s the eve of June 17th and the crowd at Portland’s Crystal Ballroom is holding a collective breath as if undertaking the dangerous voyage to the underworld.

“Expect the unexpected,” is the hushed mantra BJM concertgoers must remember as the band has a famed (if not probable) proclivity for hijacking the unpredictable in the name of Chaos, Anarchy and, well, fuck… who knows. (Throwing lit cigarettes into crowds and kicking drunk audience members in the face? Its happened before.)

Like a bat out of hell, Anton Newcombe, the prodigal mastermind and infamous instigator of such shenanigans, is the first to appear.

As the remaining octet—including comic-relief Joel Gion and beloved Matt Hollywood—follow suite and tune their instruments, the loudest, most unswerving sound comes from offstage: “ANTON, ANTON!” adoring fans scream.

A bashful smirk peeks behind his stringy black hair, but after the lights go down and the music comes up, the smile vanishes and Newcombe gets serious— perhaps a cold, self-refrential homage to BJM’s tenth studio album, “And This Is Our music.”

This chemically imbalanced stage behavior alludes to the cross-pollinated loopy fuzz and raw jamboree that distinguishes BJM’s sound as both melodic retro-pop and ethereal space-rock. Any BJM refusenik would have to admit that at tonight’s show, the band’s synchronicity and adrenaline are as fresh and infectious as ever.

Surprisingly, however, the band overlooks its latest studio album “Who Killed Sgt. Pepper?” and instead opts to play its greatest hits—particularly those songs compiled on  “Tepid Peppermint Wonderland: A Retrospective.”

There are words on love (“Anenome”); words on political strife (“Ballad of Jim Jones”); words on self-proclaimed greatness (“Going to Hell”) and words on the unrelenting insecurities that can drive one mad (“Cabin Fever”). The crowd—notably young and riotous—goes bonkers when the Dandy’s Zia McCabe takes stage for a tongue-and-cheek rendition of “Not If You Were The Last Dandy Warhol On Earth.” Who would’ve thought that songs written a decade ago could still generate such fanfare amongst this youthful cohort—a generation generally more inspired by drum machines and digital samplers and than 8-string guitar riffs and effect pedals?

But If I had any significant revelations while holding my breath, filling my lungs with isolated strains of neo-pyschedlia, it is this: Anton Newcombe doesn’t give two shits who’s listening or what people are saying or why people are listening or why they are not saying anything. Because of this, nothing will ever sound as good as BJM’s apathetic prowess. In short, BJM (cue the music) reminds us to “keep it cool” and “break the rules.” Not bad for a bunch of gifted deadbeats.

photo by Carolina Riveria

Phantogram’s haunting, post-electronic dream pop oozes a certain amount of intoxication, and the epic performance by the New York duo at Eugene’s Willamette Valley Music Festival last Saturday was comparable to watching globules in a lava lamp. I pity any one who wasn’t in attendance. It really was a seductive—if not spellbinding—show.

I recently had the chance to interview Josh Carter of the group. Here is what he had to say on the West Coast, the music industry and the future of Phantogram.

Fond memories from your last visit to Eugene?

Indeed! We had a great time playing the Willamette Valley Fest. The crowd was awesome!

Any thoughts on the West Cost vs. your native East?

So far, we have enjoyed playing the West Coast very much. We’ve had awesome response to our music on both coasts – the Midwest is great too! We haven’t really gotten to play a lot of shows in the South yet. We are looking forward to getting down there soon. There are nice people and jerky people everywhere we go… We prefer meeting friendly, sincere people.
We definitely miss home on the East Coast right now, because we’ve been on tour for a month and will continue to tour for a while.

How would you describe your music to someone who hasn’t heard it?

Beat-heavy pop, with spacey synths, swirling guitars, chopped up samples, honest, emotional lyrics, and a lot of texture.

What are major influences to the band, musically and otherwise?

Musically- everything from Debussy to Talking Heads, Curtis Mayfield to Slowdive, The Beatles to J Dilla…. We like all kinds of music. We draw a lot of inspiration from film and movies, too. Some of our favorite directors are David Lynch, Terry Gilliam, Michel Gondry…

And what’s your favorite thing about music and the industry today?

My favorite thing about music is that it is as close as you can get to spirituality or the heart and soul of an individual. Music can touch people in ways that most other things can’t. It gets under your skin.

What’s the meaning behind the word ‘phantogram’?

A phantogram is a two-dimensional optical illusion that appears in three dimensions. We thought that ‘Phantogram’ would be a good name for our band as we are a two-piece that creates a stereophonic sound – a sound much larger than you would expect from two people.

Any acts you would like to collaborate with?

We would’ve liked to collaborate with Sparklehorse. RIP Mark Linkous. It would be cool to do scores for films too.

What are your three must have songs on a dance party mix?

EMF’s “Unbelievable”, Jay-Z’s “Empire State of Mind”, and “I Would Die For You” by Prince.

Besides a wealth of tour dates, what does the future have in store for Phantogram?

Lots of more music and albums!

Doug Martsch, Patron Saint of Rock

On November 15 Doug Martsch, in a brown rain jacket and a thinning mop of hair, climbed the WOW Hall stage with his Built To Spill band mates and dutifully setup shop sans roadies. “Christ,” I thought. “These guys are geezers!”

Initially, I questioned whether going to the concert would be the “right thing” to do. I had a major test the next afternoon and my conscience was saying DO NOT GO NO NO. But BTS is too hard to resist. I’ve been a fan for some time and I had never seen them live. Before I knew it, their familiar maestro guitar attack–that  I had recently forgotten– rocked the living daylights out of me. If the band is an apple of temptation, their genius is baring some badass fruit.

Martsch, who formed BTS in 1992, is surprisingly reserved onstage considering he is revered  as a founding father of indie rock. The Boise musician said little more than a feeble “Thanks” between their lengthy songs (which are that much longer live). It seems that for Martsch, the music comes first.

Guitarist Brett Netson did most of the crowd-schmoozing.

“This is dedicated to men who built WOW Hall..and to the people who throw rocks in the windows of corporations,” Netson exclaimed before the sheer force of BTS’ signature guitar echo, loops and feedback, essetnially  brought down the house.

(The name “Built To Spill” is definitely not a misnomer.)

Yet it was during “Strange” as Martsch’s plaintive voice whimpered, “yeah its strange but what’s so strange about that/ yeah its strange but what isn’t strange/ yeah its strange but oh well” that their anti-establishment vehemence felt most genuine and the results are absolutely mesmerizing.

Martsch so prolifically converts feelings into remarkably assured rock n’ roll, its no wonder he is considered one of the best guitarists in the business  today. He might resent the Rock God ascription, but well, that’s what he is.

Yes, in the midst of popping my “BTS Live” cherry, I became a born-again believer.

Jimmy Carbonetti and Matt Iwanusa met Dave Skeinkopf and Joe Smith in high school. Dave and Joe were Jimmy and Matt’s teachers. The guys bonded over their love of music, a band was formed and so the story goes.

The non-conventional teacher-pupil collaboration has proved successful. Though high school was four years ago, the teachers and their whiz kids possess an endearing teen spirit that would make them one helluva—if not over-qualified—prom band. The aesthetic is easy to intuit, just think 60s British pop rock with tumbledown lyrics, bluesy riffs and soaring harmonies that festoon from mouth to ear. The sound is understated (à la The Kink’s Village Green Preservation Society) yet bulldozes when appropriate for a strummy, dramatic effect. Sure, if you have a guitar and some drums you’re destined to sound like someone else. And though they shy away from ingenuity with their textbook indie rock structure, the music builds upon a pre-“power ballad” era candor that is both minimal and revitalizing. A tribute to their formation, The Subject’s neoclassic pastiche recalls nostalgia for those simpler days of algebra exams and make out sessions under the bleachers.

I first met these dudes when they played at the Doug Fir in Portland last summer while touring with White Rabbits. The Subjects put on such an explosive opening act that I felt compelled to buy their first full-length album, With The Ease and Grace and Precision and Cleverness of Human Beings. I think it’s worth mentioning that I rarely buy full-length albums.

I reunited with the dudes at Sam Bond’s Garage on October 16 and I was pleasantly surprised by their latest tracks on the EP New Soft Shoe, which is reminscent of dance-hall London and a bit more accessible than their past stuff. I sat down with Jimmy and Dave. Like the last time we met, hearing anecdotes about touring the country in a van and what it’s like to party ‘til you puke reminded me The Subjects don’t just make rock n’ roll, they live it—and they won’t let you forget it.

Welcome back to Oregon. How’s the tour going?

J: Amazing.

Have you guys been on tour this entire time since I saw you last July?

J: We had a break. I went to Spain and back to Brooklyn. It’s snowing in New York.

No Way! Do you like snow?

J: Snow is great!

You mentioned early today you were going shopping. Did you get anything?

J: Dave got a stripped shirt. (Points to shirt)

That’s a nice shirt

D: Thanks

Do you remember where you got it?

D: Oak something. Near Willam…e…tay?

Williamette.

D: Ya

I forget that’s a hard word to pronounce. So lemme get this straight. You guys met in high school? But Dave, you were Jimmy’s teacher?

D: Jimmy was in my audiovisual class. We made a video called “Platinum Dreams”. It was about becoming karaoke stars. We had a good time making it and then the band kind of just formed.

I’m interested about group dynamics. What’s the music-making process like?

D: Matt and I write the songs. We rehearse in an old sewing machine warehouse in Manhattan. Matt’s mom played in a funk band. The guy who owns the building produced her album. He also produced The Yardbirds. We’re going to have a huge Halloween party there.

That’s funny. I just listened to “8 Miles High” before I came here. So do you have Halloween costumes?

J: No, not yet.

D: We’re picking up stuff in every city.

Love or hate life on the road?

D: Life on the road is better than working but we don’t get to see as much of the cities as we’d like to. We’re going to bring our bikes next time around. We have this system called “Captain and Co-Captain”. If you’re the Captain you can have one drink because you’re driving. If you’re co-captain, you have to appear relatively sober, but really you can drink a lot. The other two people, well, anything goes.

So what kinda crowds do you draw in places like Nebraska?

D: Nebraska was terrifying.

What did you guys do in Portland?

D: We went to Pita Pit and My Father’s Place

Did you play Big Buck Hunter?

D: Yep.

I’ve always wondered, is it possible to enjoy guitar hero if you’re already an accomplished musician?

J: It’s impossible to play guitar hero if you’re a musician.

So what’s next?

D: We’re heading down to the Treasure Island Music Festival tomorrow. We’re not playing but The Walkmen invited us to hang out.

Sounds like a party.

D: It will be.