Brian Jonestown Massacre visited Perth at long last, on a 42 degree Thursday. As boring as it is to begin a story with a description of the weather, in this case you need to understand the intensity of the humid, stewed-humanity discomfort every person in the venue was willing to undergo to be in that audience. It was still in the high thirties at half past eight and while it was slightly cooler inside the Capitol, about halfway through the support act, people just stopped moving and stood as still as possible, not because of the music, but because touching the person next to them resulted in an unpleasant mingling of sweat and someone else’s body heat. Eew. Woe to you if you needed to pee, or drink or smoke.

Coincidentally, at the other end of town, there was a musical tribute to Andy Warhol going on, the first in a series of references to that other band that would appear before the night was over. The support act seemed to be heading in the same vein, for Demon Parade had a distinct Dandy Warhols flavour to both their music and their stage presence. They played their instruments well, but with little acknowledgement of the crowd, and with so many of their songs sounding similar, for just a bit too long. The band members appeared on stage one by one and began what sounded like tuning up, but by the time all five were onstage, they had built an impressive wall of sound, which they maintained throughout the set. As if to make up for the fact that one of the guitarists spent the whole time facing the drummer, the Bassist didn’t stop smiling into the crowd. This was about the only interaction we got.

It was good music, really good. And on any other night, more than four people would have been dancing, clapping and giving the band what they needed to feel welcome on the stage, but not this night. This one belonged only to BJM. Demon Parade should come back and play Perth again, maybe in winter, and let us give them the welcome on stage that they deserve.

So it was that Anton Newcombe and the current Jonestown line-up faced what must have seemed like a strange and unmoving crowd. Being a Thursday, a good proportion of them were as sober as Newcombe himself, and as aware of their inhibitions as the man they had come to see. The near-capacity crowd appeared subdued, but contrary to the genre, not shoegazing at all, Each face remained turned towards the band, mouths slightly open, intent on drinking in every second of the performance. The majority of the crowd had been successfully drawn in by Demon Parade and had been standing to attention in anticipation ever since.

With BJM’s predilection for splicing together disparate concepts and sounds, the suggestion by one punter that they were beginning all of their songs with the opening bars from a Dandy Warhols song mightn’t have been too far fetched. But why would they do that? Is it a capitalisation on the doco link between the bands that was responsible for much of BJM’s publicity, or did the bands actually influence each other that much? Was it a piss-take or something else? Whatever, the music was fantastic, and quickly morphed from the first few Dandyesque bars into songs of substance such as Anemone, Who, Nevertheless or Servo and further evidence that the link’s not dead; Not if you were the last Dandy, When Jokers Attack and A Message to the Dandy Warhols. Re-listening to the recordings of these songs later, they are not Dandy flavoured at all, so the samples must have been intended, but for what reason remains a mystery.

The band was tight and on their game, no one got stabbed or angry, Joel Gion looked good and engaged front and centre with his tambourine, Newcombe and Matt Hollywood stood off to the side in the shadows leaving the limelight for the rest of the band, as if to prove to the audience that the most important thing is the music. And it worked. Unless you’re in the first couple of rows at Capitol, you can’t see much anyway, and in this case that was fine, not being able to see just removed one more distraction leaving fans free to let the sound wash into them. (If only it was just sound washing them and not the sweat of their fellow man.) There was a tiny bit of discussion between members as they tuned or swapped guitars, and as the set reached into its second hour, the spaces between songs were a little longer and included toilet or ciggie breaks for band members. The encore was a little confusing for the crowd who stood there at midnight (the normal closing time for the venue on a weeknight) with the house lights off and fleeting glimpses of the band running around backstage, but too worn out after the two hour set to even raise much of a ruckus, but not wanting to leave because who knew when the band would be back?

It was such a generously long set full of the best work the band has done, flawlessly performed. Hopefully the sluggish and half melted crowd’s response (or lack of it) won’t deter BJM from another visit soon.