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Rating: "It’s shocking that there’s still no review of this album on DeBaser!"
How many times have you heard that phrase? As many times as you've heard about the first, original request of Their Satanic Majesties. Because I certainly don’t need to tell you that it’s a 1967 Rolling Stones album that deviates from the usual style of Jagger and friends to embrace more psychedelic sounds, right? I hope my preamble was unnecessary and pedantic, then. In June 1996, the Brian Jonestown Massacre, with their name explicitly inspired by the late Jones of the Rolling Stones, released their fourth album, which explicitly pays homage to the album Their Satanic Majesties Request. But I’d like to think each of you heard these things many times already.
"Forget about this nonsense. What about the album itself? And how come you, who have been here for years playing the fool, never noticed it was missing?"
Probably the fault is precisely this album. It's an album that stuns. An album in which songs, album title, and band name are explicit calls to the past, but in which Anton Newcombe's infinite class emerges. But what is Their Satanic Majesties' Second Request, and why would it be a disservice to categorize it in some revival-something wave? The answer is simple and complex at the same time. This album is a successful mix of '60s psychedelia, vintage pop/folk/raga rock, oriental drones, and lots and lots of drugs. This album is losing yourself in listening while lying on a lawn, falling asleep, and dreaming of George Harrison and Jerry Garcia joining Spacemen 3. It's when you smoke your first cigarette of the day and for some reason, your blood pressure suddenly rises, stunning you as if you had hash for breakfast. It’s when a friend offers you a glass of wine at a bar in the early afternoon and you haven’t eaten anything since seven in the morning and you start to feel dizzy after just one glass. It's when you fall asleep on the couch late at night with people around you smoking weed and you don’t remember if you smoked too or if you’re just incredibly sleepy. It’s when you buy a pizza slice at the bakery for a snack and you think nothing in the world could be better. It's the sambuca-corrected coffee that clears your head after a heavy meal. It’s an all-American giant hot dog with British Worcestershire sauce inside and a decisive touch of Indian curry. This album is when you walk down the street in the morning and the sun blinds you and instead of shooting at Arabs, you just stand there blissfully with a goofy expression looking at the light. It’s when Their Satanic Majesties want to listen to music again and remain satisfied and smiling.
Maybe it seems redundant like this review, maybe it feels déjà vu, like the awful opening paragraph of this page; but Anton Newcombe doesn't need to apologize at all. Because "Their Satanic Majesties' Second Request" is a beautiful, beautiful album; and ultimately that is the only essential thing to say.
"Come and play folks, you are welcome here. Sure you can smoke!"
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