The Brian Jonestown Massacre

Mar 31
3 min read

The Brian Jonestown Massacre and Michael Savage live at Magnet House, Perth | 31 March 2026

Pure, unadulterated psychedelic chaos was Brian Jonestown Massacre (BJM) at Magnet House on Tuesday night in Perth (one of the strangest Tuesday nights spent in living memory). Punters were chaotic and confused and angsty middle aged man pushed past punters to urinate several times within a 20-minute set. Upstairs featured other punters staring listlessly from their vertical positions on the couches.

The show felt like a very, very long car ride. It was easy to get lost in the music. Which induced drug-free psychotropic effects to the point that every song blended into the next one. Something interesting occurs when you provide boomers and Gen X with live psychedelic music and alcohol. An age regression occurs where the scene becomes a something akin to a day at a jellybeans childcare center.

With punters unable to decide whether they wanted to be upstairs and downstairs of Magnet House. And others failing to drink a cup of beer (by completely spilling the contents onto the floor). It was a strange scene of depravity to witness. Apparently notorious for Brian Jonestown Massacre shows.

Michael Savage played supports for the night. Sounding loungey and chill, and sporting a

moustache and curly boof. Savage resembled Weird Yankovic’s photogenic brother (this is endearing, not an insult). One song smoothly rolled onto the next, not unlike the same smoothness found spreading peanut butter over a morning slice of toast. Saying hi to his mother in Bunbury whilst on stage. Savage was the perfect support act to ease the crowd into the later hot-tub of chaos.

Between sets, it got noticeably quite crowded. To the point that it was hard to move to get a water or to the bar. It was wonder how punters got intoxicated when movement was so difficult (maybe they siphoned the alcohol from their sweat). The overcrowding on the lower floor caused quite a degree of tension between punters.

Adding to the chaos, with BJM on stage. There was this confusing sense of aggressive banter between the band and the crowd. It seemed that neither gave a fuck at what they were saying. So it was this weird back and forth between punters heckling Anton Newcombe, and bandmembers at times telling the crowd to ‘shut the f**K up’. But because the psychedelic music drowned out most of the exchange, it led to this weird dysphoric vibe between of trying to relaxing to the music, and snapping back to the unhinged reality of the crowd and band barking at each other. Trippy, man.

Thankfully band members and Newcombe guided the show into a textured soundscape of psychedelic guitars and vocals which screamed ego-death and mushroom trips. It was an incredibly weird night for a Tuesday. Filled with 50-somethings acting like children, punters lacking basic manners and being unable to use a cup to drink liquids. Perhaps this is what BJMs music does to you live. It completely dysregulates your nervous system, fogs up your social faculties to the point where you just stumble around the venue spouting any kind of nonsense.

Such is the pull of psychedelic music and BJM. A maelstrom of music, chaos and psychological impossibility (and confusion).

Review by Joe Wilson