Dusted Reviews
Artist: Brother JT Album: Maybe We Should Take Some More? Label: Birdman Review date: Jun. 10, 2002 |
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“While rank and riches may always reckon upon deferential treatment in society,” writes Arthur Schopenhauer, “that is something which intellectual ability can never expect: To be ignored is the greatest favour shown to it... A man may be as humble as possible in his demeanor, and yet hardly ever get people to overlook his crime in standing intellectually above them.”
Maybe this explains why Johnny “Brother JT” Terleskey isn’t a rock star. JT parachuted into the 80’s garage rock revival as helmsman for the heavily Question Mark And The Mysterians-indebted Original Sins, playing breezy, organ-anchored proto-psych throwbacks as tight as anything in the Bomp! / Voxx catalog. But guitar rock buffs are easily confused folk, and JT’s personal mythology - a colorful mix of witty self-mockery, drug-fried paranoia, leering sexuality and old time religion - was perhaps more than they were willing to stomach. His most self-aware gesture was posing for the cover of the 1990 subterranean classic Self Destruct with a pistol to his head. Thus, the Sins never got their propers, and JT launched an unpredictable solo career, juxtaposing melodious bedroom-fidelity affairs like Rainy Day Fun and Come On Down with unhinged skullfucks like the live Dosed And Confused. Most recently, he threw us off the trail again with a souped-up campfire songbook called Spirituals.
Maybe We Should Take Some More?, while hardly as user-friendly as its immediate (we’re talking months) predecessor (he’s a prolific bastard), provides a fitting introductory snort of all things JT. (Some of these songs are older than the last Original Sins record, so it’s fruitless to consider the disc’s place in JT’s chronology.) It’s got haunting stoner-meets-Yaweh balladry (“S. O. S.”), creepy-crawly mantras (“Juice”) and carefree cleverness (“Muff, VA”), all soaked in feedback to make it seep more easily into the subconscious.
He lowballs the production again, so it’s still doubtful that this’ll put him in league with Holly-come-latelies like The White Stripes. But it’s still absolutely certain that’s where he belongs, too smart or not. Get in on the secret.
By Emerson Dameron
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