The Brian Jonestown Massacre


 You fucking broke my sitar, mother fucker! 

They played last night at the Roundhouse in Camden. After a plate of ribs and what felt like an endless wander through the lock, we drifted down to the venue. Inside, a room filled with new-gen Jimmy Page look-a-likes and vintage versions that looked like they probably knew Jimmy personally. Or at least his life style. From the minute Anton and his disciples started strumming, the room swayed, red lights crawled the walls and it was magic. The rawness you saw in Dig all those years ago is still there. It’s just smarter now. Even better now. The kind of rock & roll charisma and authenticity that Hedi Slimane only wishes he could bottle. But he probably never will. The Brian Jonestown Massacre are the kind of band that needs to run free. Do want they want. And if you happen to see them and hear their soaring guitars, you should just count yourself lucky.

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