San Francisco shoegaze-pyschedelic act Brian Jonestown Massacre isn’t for everyone–few have the patience to endure BJM’s current incarnation of endlessly droning jam sessions and repetitive waves of distortion. Nevertheless, for those who do have that patience, BJM makes for an intense, spacey trip, and those fans will easily sink into the band’s latest release, “Who Killed Sgt. Pepper?”, which sees the band merging its usual “far-out” experimental aesthetic with fuzzy dance beats, holding tight to sounds long associated with drugs, space and the dance floor. Frontman Anton Newcombe’s supposed proficiency with more than eighty instruments–including the hurdy-gurdy, the samisen and the bagpipes–has naturally sent BJM into several interconnected genres, mostly successfully three Stones-esque garage rock albums in 1996, since recently sliding back into the neo-psychedelic racket. For fans with the time to delve into Newcombe’s deep, complex world, it’s surely rewarding; for everyone else, it’s best to just read the band’s killer song titles, like “Bring Me The Head of Paul McCartney on Heather Mill’s Wooden Peg (Dropping Bombs on the White House).” (Andy Seifert)
May 30 at Metro, 3730 North Clark, (773)549-0203, at 7pm. $21.
Cooling It: A Preview of Colleen Green at Cole’s Bar When Green strums power chords or chiming notes on top of her backing track, you might think you’re at Ramones karaoke night and Madonna is taking her turn.
Brutal Finesse: A Preview of King Crimson at Ravinia There have been few new compositions from King Crimson these past two decades, but the live arrangements of songs from its catalog are often strikingly different than the recorded versions.
San Francisco shoegaze-pyschedelic act Brian Jonestown Massacre isn’t for everyone–few have the patience to endure BJM’s current incarnation of endlessly droning jam sessions and repetitive waves of distortion. Nevertheless, for those who do have that patience, BJM makes for an intense, spacey trip, and those fans will easily sink into the band’s latest release, “Who Killed Sgt. Pepper?”, which sees the band merging its usual “far-out” experimental aesthetic with fuzzy dance beats, holding tight to sounds long associated with drugs, space and the dance floor. Frontman Anton Newcombe’s supposed proficiency with more than eighty instruments–including the hurdy-gurdy, the samisen and the bagpipes–has naturally sent BJM into several interconnected genres, mostly successfully three Stones-esque garage rock albums in 1996, since recently sliding back into the neo-psychedelic racket. For fans with the time to delve into Newcombe’s deep, complex world, it’s surely rewarding; for everyone else, it’s best to just read the band’s killer song titles, like “Bring Me The Head of Paul McCartney on Heather Mill’s Wooden Peg (Dropping Bombs on the White House).” (Andy Seifert)
