So, I took my pal TC to see the Brian Jonestown Massacre show last night (and yes, this does make three concerts in four nights, which is totally anomalous for me–see what happens when I stop blogging?). The bass player is the boyfriend of my pal Amanda from Columbia Publishing Course, so she got us on the guest list. Andreas was coming up from Oly at midnight, so I wasn’t going to be able to stay for the whole show…I said hi to Amanda’s boyfriend Dave, and he gave me the insider information, explaining that one guitarist was drunk, one was on a lot of mushrooms, and one had just medicated himself with some heroin. TC and I at least had to stay for a few numbers to figure out who was on what. We planned to head out before 1am.

…BUT WE COULD NOT LEAVE. It was clear from the beginning who was the drunk (the lead singer had a little row of shot glasses in front of his wah-wah pedal), and it was also clear who was junked out (Hmm, the guy barely able to keep his eyes open? ya think?), but if there were any questions, the little 12-string guitarist shouted into the microphone “THANK YOU FOR THE MUSHROOMS!” and proceeded to curl into the fetal position while playing.

Oh, and that was just the beginning. Wacky antics included:

The two guitarists making out, then one standing behind the other looking like he was doing dirty things to him with his guitar.

Lead singer talking to Osama bin Laden like a chola (”bin Laden, essay, homes I’m gonna fuck you up, eh bato?”) with a drunken slur, naturally.

Mushroom guitarist playing while laying on the floor clutching onto Dave’s left leg for support.

An audience member jumping on stage and taking off all his clothes, then hopping around with his pants around his ankles and his dick waggling around. What was really great was that the band just made room for him, and no-one from the bar pulled him off stage. He just got up there, stripped, jumped around, then slowly tried to get his clothes back on.

Someone shouting at the lead singer “You look hot in that sweater,” the singer lifting up the sweater saying “Yeah, I’m sweaty,” and then a band member shouting into a mike “SHAVE THAT BELLY, MAN!!”

The audience member who HAD to be as high as the band members, who tossed beer on the stage, and then during the last crazy reverb insanity jam, grabbed the microphone and started chanting “FACE, FACE, FACE, FACE!”

It was one of those shows where every two minutes TC and I were looking at each other going “That did NOT just happen.” But it did. We tried to leave around 1am, but that was when the tambourine player started rambling about how cool the lights looks when the mushrooms made them twinkly like that, and we simply could not get out the door when such craziness was ensuing on stage. And the weirdest thing was that despite clearly being pretty fucked up, the band was tight and sounded great.

They played until the bar turned the lights on. We left at 2am. Poor Andreas was just stuck at home waiting for me for two hours — but that show was worth it.