The Brian Warhols not-so-Dandy Massacre

I used to think the Dandy Warhols were a tad on the pretentious side, but then I saw this film. Courtney Taylor-Taylor and Co. are majorly and properly down to earth compared to Anton Newcombe, the tortured soul behind the Brian Jonestown Massacre, who is so damaged by his twisted childhood that he can't have a single thought that isn't ego-driven, onstage or off.

The film is just as tortured, from beginning to end, as we are subjected to one sabotaged opportunity after the other, serving as a blueprint for any potential rock star who sees the movie for what NOT to do.

There is a fine line between genius and self-indulgence, and that line is crossed to the max in this movie, over and over and over again. Professionalism be damned is basically the message here, and it is not a good one. As a musician myself, I feel obligated to state the obvious - not every band is like this, you actually can combine discipline with rock music without sacrificing your 'vision', and that's where TRUE genius comes into play.