(Celebrities I Love You) Since I Was Six: The Brian Jonestown Massacre and Parasocial Relationships

The Brian Jonestown Massacre presents an ambitious sound that blends multiple subgenres of rock music. The band’s innovation spans beyond their broad musical palette and serves as a cultural auteur to the parasocial relationship phenomenon in “(David Bowie I Love You) Since I Was Six.”

Written by Zachary Bolash 

Photo courtesy of Aurelien Guichard

“Maladaptive daydreamers” may serve as the universal diagnosis for Gen Z, a generation that often views the world as overwhelming and dreary. Born into the economy of bad news with advancing technology that makes information disseminate instantaneously, this mindset is more than understandable. As a result, Generation Z has taken refuge in the comforting and oftentimes phony world of celebritydom. A fixation on a particular celebrity or band links the 2010s teenage years of many Zoomers. Many people from this generation descend from various fanbases: Directioners, Crybabies, or even Little Monsters. These fanbases, usually extant online, connected many a lost tween to a shared artistic core while also distracting them from the seemingly disastrous conditions of the outside world. 

The Brian Jonestown Massacre assembled two decades before this fan culture explosion. More akin to a pirate ship of miscreant musicians than a traditional rock band, the group exists as an experimental outfit that genre-bends punk, lo-fi, and space rock. In 1990, Anton Newcombe founded the San Francisco-based collective, which has shuffled around new members since. The 1990s rockers took its name from Brian Jones, the Rolling Stones guitarist, and the Jonestown Massacre, in which cult leader Jim Jones massacred his following in a secluded jungle settlement. The band’s mystique extends beyond its unique name; it also has featured infamous infighting, with some members inexplicably leaving and rejoining again. Despite the roughness on the outside, the band's sonically dreamy nature shines — especially in the track "(David Bowie I Love You Since) I Was Six." 

From the song's opening, listeners are immersed in the blending of lead singer Anton Newcombe’s world with David Bowie's. The track's overture begins with an interpolation of David Bowie's "Space Oddity" undercut by brooding, bass-heavy horns, almost as if a mortician remastered the track for a funeral procession. Right away, Newcombe uses Bowie's art to contextualize his sadness, much like many Lana Del Rey stans do when listening to the songstress’ “How to disappear" or Swifities living vicariously through Taylor Swift’s heartbreak on “All Too Well.” 

The beginning verse sounds incredibly somber, with Newcombe drearily remarking: "Does she love you, you suppose / With somebody who would know." Here, Newcombe appears to talk to himself, caught in the crossfires of a lover's quarrel. The melodramatic doubt appears apropos with many fights that long-time couples often have. The topic twists mid-verse, however: "Who believes in what you are / You're my favorite thing by far." A major contradiction comes undone in this line — the narrator's favorite person is someone who doesn’t even love them. At this moment, Newcombe shifts the subject, and now speaks to the image of David Bowie. 

The first chorus of the track reinforces this idea. Newcombe wails, "There's a fire in your eyes / I see it all sometimes." Again, these lyrics seem in opposition to one another as Newcombe admiringly compliments someone's passion yet admits that he only sees it intermittently. A logical explanation for this lyrical dilemma lies in understanding that Newcombe is referring to the passions exhibited by David Bowie. By his legendary status, David Bowie remains isolated from the gamut of people, including Newcombe, and therefore it remains conceivable for the narrator to only see "the fire" in his eyes “sometimes." The ties to loneliness also seem conceivable, as Bowie famously struggled with isolation. Harkening back to the art rock legend’s “Space Oddity,” he long had a fascination with space, an extraterrestrial appreciation that formed his alter ego, Ziggy Stardust. While the citrus-haired rock star served as a liberatory channel for Bowie, it also represented his discontent and isolation with the 20th century’s conservatism and social backwardness.  

At this point, the parallels to modern-day parasocial relationships formulate and become unmistakable. Oftentimes, people use music to process sadness or trauma, letting sad songs or ballads soundtrack the aftermath of a breakup or other emotionally wrenching events. In "(David Bowie I Love You) Since I Was Six," Newcombe has developed a similar relationship with the titular rock icon. The contrasting reality and mythos of David Bowie serve as the backdrop to this song, which ranges from addressing David Bowie indirectly to directly interpolating "Space Oddity." In the interludes between verses — balancing brooding, funeral horns with the sparkliness of “Space Oddity” — viewers have a chance to reflect, confront their traumas, and contextualize them within the sonic tension between Newcombe and Bowie.

In the latter half of the song, the second verse and chorus climax Newcombe's appreciation of Bowie to a full-throttle parasocial relationship. Newcombe takes on a sadder tone as the song's tempo similarly follows. He belts: "There's no place left to go / When I'm feeling slow (Slow down, sir) / Do you like the way you are? / Yes, it is, 'cause you're the star." An interpretive fusing of Newcombe and Bowie begins to form, with Newcombe seemingly tousling between self-deprecation and reverence, projecting his own feelings of inadequacy onto his admiration for Bowie. In this verse, Newcombe actively develops a parasocial relationship with Bowie to cope with his situation. 

The song takes an unprecedented upturn in the final chorus, and a strange levity takes over the song. The horns and other brooding instruments relax, and Newcombe's wailing vocals fully take over. He sings, "There's a brightness in your eyes, / I see it all tonight, / In the darkness of my light, / Shining on the chosen few." This crescendo, with Newcombe's whiny timbre gradually increasing until the song's final line, represent the hope that Bowie bestows upon Newcombe. To The Brian Jonestown Massacre vocalist, he now sees Bowie as a radiant source of optimism rather than merely an artistic inspiration, a beacon of inspiration that "[shines] on the chosen few." He places Bowie on a pedestal, positioning him as a prophet whose light is reserved for an exclusive group of followers. These lines expose the track’s disturbing underbelly: Newcombe's possessiveness over Bowie.

This one-sided relationship that Newcombe implies seems delusional, if not flagrantly incorrect. Though seemingly abnormal, the relationship manifests incessantly today in many modern-day fans. This generation’s new forms of idol worship lies most commonly in the influencer or indie musician. Consider the tantrums young fans threw when Charli D'Amelio hit a vape pen, or the public backlash when Jenny Ortega was photographed smoked a cigarette. While these reactions may seem childish and trivial, they speak to an ongoing cultural phenomenon in which Generation Z projects themselves onto celebrities — a trend that the Brian Jonestown Massacre happened to arrive early on in "(David Bowie I Love You) Since I Was Six." The alternative rock band also foresaw the emotional disconsolation that parasocial relationships can beget. The passings of Liam Payne and Christina Grimmie paralyzed many fans and reminded them of their mortality. Like Newcombe and Bowie’s relationship, the emotional ties to artists can entail disaster for many young fans, especially when they believe their idols, as Anton Newcombe puts it, “believe in what you are.”