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(Bomp/Tangible, 1993)Unlike the early-’90s Britishisms of the band’s first single, the snaky guitars and rhythms of “Convertible” hint at an Eastern influence, something that was to become far more prominent on later records as Newcombe refined his technique and expanded his arsenal of instruments. Here, however, we have mid-’90s Brian Jonestown Massacre in embryonic form, releasing what sounds like a rough run-through for a demo, its fine vocal unfortunately buried. The song is similar in feel to the Acid 45 that was included in the same 6x7” set (“The Tangible Box”), and, as with that single, “Convertible” opens with a silent lockgroove cut into the vinyl. On the other side, “Their Satanic Majesties 2nd Request (Enrique’s Dream)” is a druggy guitar-effects collage with samples of a hellfire preacher laid atop it. Entertaining to hear once, but it’s mostly of interest for lending its title to a BJM album three years down the road.Bomp used to sell “Convertible” both individually and as part of the complete set, and around 2002 or 2003, as stock dwindled, they were hawking copies signed by Anton Newcombe.
(Bomp/Tangible, 1992)The debut single from a very young Brian Jonestown Massacre. Like Ride and early Blur, this record sees the BJM working at the intersection of shoegaze and pop, particularly on “She Made Me” (which is also titled “She Moves Me” on the label): the shimmering waves of guitar are present, but there’s a standard verse-chorus-verse structure and a definite emphasis on the beat, as the borderline-baggy drums are right up front in the mix – the slower, less percussive recording heard on the Methodrone album is comparatively lifeless. “Evergreen,” which also shows up on Methodrone in more polished, finished-sounding form, is looser, spaced-out psychedelia that gets lost in its own echo-laden dreaminess and simply doesn’t have the A-side’s kick... stick with the LP version of this one. It’s interesting – and a little surprising – to hear these early Brian Jonestown songs, where the music is driven by atmosphere rather than attitude, and the lyrics and frontman are of little or no importance. Interesting, yes, but not necessarily better, as this style doesn’t seem as well suited to Newcombe’s songwriting strengths or his undeniable talent for loudmouthed rabble-rousing. Still, it’s a pleasant genre exercise, and a successful enough imitation of then-current British styles.
(Homestead, 1992)As far as punk primitivism, it doesn’t get much primitive-er than this. It’s disjointed, tentative, and skeletal, with an energy level a notch above comatose. The gal on vox sounds bored outta her very skull, and the rest of the band – drums + guitar – generally sounds like it’d rather be somewhere else. Anywhere. Watching TV or sumpin, dunno. Strange… the brain can easily hear what these songs would sound like in the hands of a zillion other groups, but Bratmobile makes them distinctive by stripping the music down to the most basic elements – just the notes themselves, really – and ignoring frills like dynamics and overdubs and anything even resembling rock/punk posturing. The disc is aggressive in its amateurishness, and, while nothing spectacular, is still oddly appealing for it.
(Touch & Go, 1995)Time for bitterness! Piece of shit trust-fund junkie named Jeff who I used to know in New Haven considered these guys his all-time faves. I’ll be fair here, even though that should be three strikes right there (hope those trackmarks are gangrenous by now, Jeff!). “Go Freaks Go” is mathy electro screech, flirts with being dancetastic but never gets there… dudes are paving the way stylistically for !!!, I suppose, just with less funk (in the drums for sure) and less instrumental finesse. It’s all about tension rather than release with Brainiac, and it’s hard to buy the action they’re selling; never BLOWS UP like it oughta, and there’s the nagging sense that you could give any group of bored hardcore kids a synth and eventually hear them churn out something of equal/greater merit. The B is a wavery, watery, percussion-less piece called “Silver Iodine” that simply floats past without distinguishing itself beyond its effects-pedal navelgaze. Much like spinoff group Enon, Brainiac has measure-long flashes of genius but never delivers on its own promise in the long run. Shrug shrug shrug and a-rooty-toot-toot.
(Impresario, 2001)Brain Donor is, of all things, Julian Cope and two members of Spiritualized fusing the whole of their hard-rock and heavy metal influences into a single beast. Double-necked guitars, full makeup, platform boots, picture discs… nothing halfway about it. It’s a curveball coming from these guys, but still, when the musical game plan is laid out on paper, it all sounds like it should be so, so right – Cope is a smart feller with notoriously good taste, the band members know their stuff, and I too love the early heroes of guitar trash (although, and this isn’t going to win me any friends, I am in fact a Creatures of the Night man when it comes to Kiss). The bigger shock might be that the whole thing actually comes together so well on record. This is fun, dirty r’n’r, no fucking around. “She Saw Me Coming” is an amphetamine kick, a convincing approximation of late-period Stooges, totally mean and streamlined, with Cope doing his best Iggy. The dual-channel solos show more technical precision than any Stooge, but the flash adds excitement rather than flab. On the other side, there’s a stoner feel to the rolling “Shaman U.F.O.,” and here the strained vocals are a minor nuisance in what would otherwise be a fine acid-stomp instrumental. Any small complaints aside, though, none of this record feels forced or faked; it’s just rough and raw sleaze rawk done the way it should be. Brain Donor could have – should have? – been an embarrassing bellyflop, but on this first single, at least, they have it down cold.
(Slumberland, 1993)Interesting dynamic at play on this Boyracer single. Even if the vocals are pure indieboy (swinging from twee to punky snottiness), there’s some real crunch in the guitars and drums. All in all not terribly dissimilar to labelmates Black Tambourine, but these five short songs are tighter and more pissed than those happy noisepopsters… call it shoegaze as played by a misanthropic hard-rock garage band, perhaps??
(A&M, 1969)Oh, this is rich. A song arguing for what would be, in 1971, the Twenty-sixth Amendment, “L.U.V.” demands that the United States LET US VOTE. “Us” being, of course, those under 21… presumably the bulk of Boyce & Hart’s audience. Increasingly “with-it,” the duo was trying to tap into the times by recording a would-be musical rallying cry for all those folks who were young enough to be drafted and who were also quite reasonably asking for the right to vote. The single stiffed at the time, and, almost 40 years later, this clunker is hopelessly campy, from the sleeve’s clearly staged “L.U.V. rally” photos, to its starry-eyed lyrics (“A way to change things peacefully / And live together in harmony”), to its patriotic drums-n-fife intro. The thematically-fitting sapfest “I Wanna Be Free” – a hit in 1966 for the Monkees – even gets resurrected for the B-side. Overall, an amusing time capsule, little more. And hey: You guys supposedly “won” in 1971, so why did you promptly screw it all up and let Nixon get installed for a second term in ’72? Nice work, youth of America. Gimme McGovern!
(Bomp/Tangible, 1993)
