The Brian Jonestown Massacre
Thank God For Mental Illness

The history of heretical sects is probably one of the prime examples of where history and hagiography have most intersected and overlapped. Heretical sects refer to all those religious movements that are heterodox compared to Christian Catholic orthodoxy. The most well-known names include the Arians (after Bishop Arius), the Albigensians, and the Waldensians.

Music production houses have over time tried to recreate a certain rock orthodoxy, where those who didn't adhere to certain production rules were cast out like lepers (I believe their god is called Money, but perhaps I might find more information by searching Wikipedia). In 1996, three albums by a band hidden behind a strange name came out: The Brian Jonestown Massacre. In these albums, there is a continuous revival of the good old days, a constant return to the roots, when rock'n'roll was poor and its religious ministers walked barefoot with muddy feet.

But what lay behind such a mysterious acronym? First of all, there's an evident play on words. The name Brian Jones, the deceased and never too lamented guitarist of the Rolling Stones, is visible (in fact, his face is at the center of the band's logo), thus already hinting at a certain homage to the rock'n'roll of its golden era. But above all, what is the Jonestown Massacre? I'm not sure if any of you are familiar with "The People's Temple." Does the date November 18, 1978, ring a bell? Does the name Jim Jones mean anything?

Well, The People's Temple was a Protestant movement with vague socialist ideas founded by Jim Jones, and on November 18, 1978, in the small agricultural colony of Jonestown in Guyana, the sect committed a mass murder-suicide following a legal journalistic attack. There were 910 deaths in total, including 219 children. The Jonestown Massacre, precisely.

This is what lies behind The Brian Jonestown Massacre.

But let's return to 1996. I can't remember what was happening in the world then, but in the States, that year saw the release of three albums by the combo led by Anton Newcombe. We are interested in the last of the three, in my opinion, the best one: "Thank God for Mental Illness," produced by Bomp! Records. An album in which all the roots of Californian rock from the sixties come to light. The best and the most hidden. Think of Skip Spence and the Quicksilver Messenger Service. The most acidic rock possible.

The album is a continuous descent into the hells of the mind, where neurons fail to untangle and process connected thoughts. The vocals are often plaintive, the lyrics synthetic and swooning, as if Morrissey's entire poetic verve were fading away. As if love were just an acid dream.

The best moments are definitely "Those Memories," the opening "Spanish Bee," "It Girl" and, of course, "Ballad of Jim Jones," acoustic ballads worthy of the best Roger McGuinn, and certainly the finale "Sound of Confusion," 32 minutes of toxic delirium, where if for the rest of the album the thanks to God for mental illness were sincere since only from it comes the clarity to write great music, here it becomes a funeral elegy, it becomes what "Sister Ray" was for the Velvet Underground. And this comparison is certainly not far-fetched.

Subsequently, the BJM, though forgotten, were rediscovered largely thanks to the rockumentary "Dig!" where, however, leader Anton Newcombe is depicted as a hopeless loser, and thanks to the inclusion of one of their tracks in the soundtrack of "American Pie" (yes, exactly that one).

I want to conclude by saying that even if this is not their best album, it is certainly the one worth getting to know them by. It's like a falling star that can't quite burn. It's one of those albums that, if we ever need to explain why the nineties are not entirely discardable, we could present as an example.