21 of 22 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Sadly Overlooked, October 25, 2005
This review is from: Bravery Repetition & Noise (Audio CD)
It's too bad that after Dig! came out--the film chronicling the travails of BJM and their pals The Dandy Warhols during the late nineties and beyond--Anton Newcombe's only claim to fame might be that he comes across as perhaps the biggest jerk in rock and roll. Too bad because despite his abrasive stage persona--which continues to this day, by the way--his music is uniformly excellent, and nowhere displays the bizarre, vindictive, practically psychotic behavior he routinely exhibits on stage.
His albums, in fact, display exactly the opposite. They are so thoughtful, so introspective, so beautifully played and arranged, you have to wonder how he can possibly be the same guy. Bravery, Repetition and Noise might be his best, but it's really hard to say. Hard to say because most of the time one's opinion depends entirely on which of his albums happens to be in the CD changer at any given moment. All are excellent and a day doesn't go by that at least one of them doesn't make an appearance on it.
As the great rock bands of the early sixties drew their inspiration from earlier American rock, blues, and folk, Anton draws his from the early sixties' rock bands themselves, particularly those with a heavy psychedelic bent. Think the Byrds, the Velvet Underground, the early San Francisco sound, and of course, the Rolling Stones when Brian Jones was at his most influential; think acoustic rhythm guitars, spacey electric guitars, various keyboards, horns, winds, beautiful vocal harmonies, and, yes, a sitar here and there; mix it all around in your brain with the full understanding that the songwriter is brilliant, and you get BJM.
Here are the partial lyrics to the song, Sailor, song number six on this CD:
Sailing the ship across your sea, the stars are calling me;
Sailing the ship across the sea, it's so lovely;
Sailing the ship across the sea, and I'm so lonely.
What a lovely sentiment this is, a perfect metaphor for the mysterious, compelling, and ultimately solitary journey that is life. Musically, it could be from a Byrd's album; more generally it is reminiscent of the time when folk went electric, with its elegant rhythm guitar and sinuous synthesizer. Also perfect is the female vocal harmony, which adds just the right touch of wistfulness.
All of the songs are like this: deft arrangements, with thoughtful, often remorseful lyrics. Stolen is another excellent example: a short, lilting guitar piece, the lyrics tell a very brief story about a chance encounter with a girl he knows he will never see again, and ends with the refrain, "oh, oh, broken-hearted." If you've seen Dig! you'll recognize Nevertheless, the song which opens the film, and which is a superb rock song with excellent rhythm. Perhaps the best song on the album is, You Have Been Disconnected, which has an absolutely haunting melody and which is as good as anything anybody ever did in the early sixties.
In fact, everything here compares favorably to that era. There is no filler. And although it is maybe clear who Anton's influences are, he is no mimic. Instead, he is an original, a distinct voice with a distinct sound.
Let's face it, rock and roll is a tricky, hugely competitive, dog-eat-dog business. It is a business in which good management, good luck and, well, good manners are often as important than pure talent alone. The brass ring long ago passed by Anton and the BJM, but his albums are out there, and if you haven't heard of them yet, do yourself a favor and become acquainted. They are the real deal and deserve better.
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