One of the most perplexing things about The Brian Jonestown Massacre is how good they can be despite their rotating cast of characters, spats, freakouts, and other drug-induced theatrics. Their latest, My Bloody Underground, is unfortunately not one of those things.
The new release is a challenging listen—largely unfocused, psychedelic garble. But nevertheless, with some patient listening (or at least a few bong hits), you can almost see where Anton Newcombe was going with this whole mess. In the end, there are few bright spots, but you can’t help feeling a little let down. So the best one from the new BJM, and the rest the kind of stuff you were hoping for.
Bring Me The Head Of Paul McCartney On Heather Mill's Wooden Peg (Dropping Bombs On The White House)
That Girl Suicide