For almost 15 years, Anton Newcombe and his ever-rotating crew of accomplices in Brian Jonestown Massacre have been conducting a prolonged experiment designed to test the validity of the theory that there's no such thing as bad publicity. Over the better part of their career, the band has been more closely associated with outrageous ego trips, prolific drug use, violent feuding, and bountiful sideburns than with their actual musical output.
The focus on the group's extra-curricular activities has been more magnified than ever since the release of Ondi Timoner's Sundance Grand Jury Prize-winning documentary Dig!, which candidly charts the relative career trajectories of the Brian Jonestown Massacre and their glossy nemeses, The Dandy Warhols. Although Newcombe has issued statements on BJM's website and elsewhere denouncing the film's portrayal of him as a tantrum-prone, self-destructive megalomaniac, there can be little doubt that the documentary has also generated an unprecedented level of interest in the band's work. Now, recognizing an opportunity to re-direct the attention of a curious public back onto the band's music, Tee Pee Records strikes with the massive two-disc retrospective, Tepid Peppermint Wonderland.
From a distance, Brian Jonestown Massacre's rivalry with the Dandys has always seemed faintly ridiculous, since choosing between these two wildly erratic, frequently mediocre acts is a little like asking your kid which he'd prefer for dinner: a jar of pimentos or a can of water chestnuts? Though BJM can be an enthralling live act if caught on the right night, on record, their purebred Summer of Love psych-rock often suffers in comparison with their 60s formalist peers. They lack the wit and virtuosic scope of The Bevis Frond or Major Stars; the prodigious melodic instincts of The Green Pajamas or the Elephant 6 hordes; and the pure galaxy-flattening mass of Comets on Fire or Acid Mothers Temple. And needless to say, unlike such psych-inclined groups as Ghost, Sunburned Hand of the Man, or Boredoms, BJM have never betrayed any interest in attempting to transcend their influences in order to actually expand on rock's known territories.
So where does that leave us for Tepid Peppermint Wonderland? With a full 38 tracks of Brian Jonestown Massacre's patented mid-tempo Between the Buttons-meets-The Notorious Byrd Brothers-meets-Loaded attack to plow through, that's where. The most remarkable thing about this career-spanning collection of older, rare, unreleased, and live tracks is to note how little the band's sound has appreciably changed over the course of their creative lifetime, despite all of the intra-band disharmony, wholesale line-up changes, and general turmoil. This fact is accentuated by the set's non-chronological running order, which places newer songs like 2004's "If Love is the Drug" cheek-to-jowl with BJM oldies like "Wisdom" or "Stars", which Newcombe claims is the first song he ever wrote on guitar. But the group's entire oeuvre is so entirely and uncannily of a piece that it's virtually impossible to date these tracks without checking the liner notes. So while you have to give Newcombe credit for keeping to his musical course regardless of outside trends or stimuli, you're also likely to wish that they could've incorporated more variety into their Tepid onslaught.
1996 was a particularly productive year for the band, and not surprisingly many of this collection's highlights are of that vintage. The three albums they released that year (Their Satanic Majesties' Second Request, Thank God For Mental Illness, and Take It From the Man!) essentially mapped out the boundaries of their sound, as evidenced on this collection by such inclusions as the hazy VU drone of "Anemone", the cosmic country jangle of "It Girl", and the loose-limbed R&B; shuffle of "Oh Lord". How much you'll enjoy any given BJM track depends almost entirely on your fondness for its riff (my personal favorite here is a live version of the Cure-like "Swallowtail") because once Newcombe and crew latch onto a couple chords they'll typically ride 'em straight through until sunrise. On epic-length tracks like "She's Gone" or the set-closing "Sue", their steadfast repetition can quickly cross the thin line separating the hypnotically powerful from the merely tedious.
Particularly when you factor in these longer, more monotonous numbers, Tepid Peppermint Wonderland represents a numbingly large dosage (more than two hours worth) of Brian Jonestown Massacre. Significantly more, I daresay, than most listeners are going to require to get the point. Even if you're a newcomer with an appetite this will likely be all the BJM you'll ever need, and if pressed I'd suggest you instead get your hands on a copy of Satanic Majesties' Second and call it a day. Diehards may find joy in some of the previously unreleased nuggets included here, but the rest of us will continue to grow increasingly impatient for the day when the Massacre's musical feats can prove as adventurous as their off-stage exploits.
