The Brian Jonestown Massacre, a band whose legacy is deeply embedded in rock history, has always been a paradox. Their rise to fame—fueled by a tumultuous mix of artistic brilliance and inner turmoil—became public knowledge through the 2004 documentary Dig!, which exposed the band’s struggles with addiction, volatile record label relationships, and a bitter feud with fellow rockers The Dandy Warhols. Their history, often chaotic and marked by personal demons, is the kind of narrative that would’ve doomed most bands, but not The Brian Jonestown Massacre. Against all odds, they’ve managed to weather the storm, not just surviving, but still touring and captivating audiences with their unmistakable sound.
The energy inside the venue before the band took the stage was palpable, thick with excitement and curiosity. It was one of those rare shows where the atmosphere felt like a quiet anticipation of something unpredictable. After all, this was a band with a reputation for unpredictability. Would it be a wild ride or a subdued evening? Nobody knew. That was part of the allure.
As the band walked onto the stage, they exuded a cool, almost aloof vibe—there was no grand spectacle, no pretentious fanfare. This wasn’t a performance designed to dazzle; it was simply a group of musicians ready to share their music. Frontman Anton Newcombe, who has long been both the creative force and the polarizing figure of the band, wasted no time in diving into the set. His voice, clearly affected by a cold, struggled to reach its usual depth, but this didn’t detract from the experience. Instead, it added a raw, vulnerable quality to the performance. Newcombe’s occasional sips of honey between songs were a brief, unspoken reminder of the personal toll this music can take. Yet, despite this struggle, he remained as captivating as ever. The connection between him and his bandmates was undeniable, and slowly, the initial hiccups of the night fell away as they effortlessly navigated their sonic landscape.
The band’s set was an intoxicating mix of psychedelic rock, its ethereal sound taking listeners on a journey back to the ’60s. Tracks like Anemone, Straight Up and Straight Down, and Open Heart Surgery were met with raucous applause and cheers, the crowd responding to the instantly recognizable opening riffs. These weren’t just songs—they were anthems that had stood the test of time, and seeing them performed live evoked a sense of nostalgia and reverence. The setlist was a blend of past and present, with newer tracks fitting seamlessly alongside the band’s beloved classics, proving their musical evolution while keeping that signature Brian Jonestown Massacre sound intact.
The audience itself was a fascinating tapestry of generations. The front rows were filled with young indie fans—attendees who perhaps hadn’t been alive during the band’s early years but were drawn to the legendary status of the group and the raw energy they bring to the stage. Their attire, reminiscent of ’70s rock groupies, contrasted sharply with the older fans who had likely been there through thick and thin, following the band from its early, uncertain days. It was a beautiful sight, a reminder that some bands transcend the boundaries of age and time, their music continuing to resonate across generations.
The show culminated in a truly quintessential Brian Jonestown Massacre moment. As the final notes of the night reverberated, the band slowly faded into the ether. Joel Gion, the enigmatic percussionist, casually tossed his tambourine aside and sauntered offstage, setting the tone for what was to come. The rest of the band followed suit, exiting one by one, each member disappearing into the shadows, leaving only the lingering hum of a droning guitar and organ feedback. The audience stood frozen, unsure if the show was over or if an encore was on the horizon. Ten minutes passed in eerie silence before the realization set in: there would be no encore.
And yet, this ending, with its deliberate lack of closure, was the perfect encapsulation of who The Brian Jonestown Massacre is. Theirs is a band that exists beyond the confines of convention, free from the expectations of what a live performance should be. They are, at their core, the embodiment of indie rock—wild, untamed, and unafraid to leave a trail of ambiguity in their wake. This was my first experience seeing them live, and it was a revelation. The band’s unapologetic, no-frills approach to music and performance left a lasting impression. It wasn’t just the songs that resonated; it was the entire attitude, a rawness that permeates everything they do. And in the end, that’s what makes The Brian Jonestown Massacre so compelling—the music, yes, but more than that, it’s the unmistakable feeling that this is a band that simply doesn’t give a damn about playing by anyone else’s rules.
Bio: Professional photographer since 2016, specialising in nightlife and live music photography. I’m passionate about supporting grassroots music venues, with notable experience at venues like Thekla, where I’ve had the privilege of capturing both bands and club nights for over 6 years.
Available for: Gigs & Headshots
First Gig Shot: All Saints at the O2 Academy Brixton, 2016
Dream Gig: Paul McCartney, AC/DC, The Rolling Stones
www.davidjeffery-hughesphotography.uk
Instagram: @david_jh_photography
