Sure, Lillian Roxon deserves credit for promoting the first wave of feminism in the late-60s and for helping to usher in the age of serious rock criticism. As a journalist, initially in Australia then in sixties Manhattan, she chronicled the social and cultural upheavals of that age and rode the zeitgeist, from The Beatles to The Velvet Underground. Later, she would witness the rise of Glam (Lou Reed et al) from Max's Kansas City.
What I'm uneasy about is this documentary itself. It's a good film, I'll admit, but not great. And I expect every documentary at TIFF, the world's second-largest stage for film, to hit grand slams at every chance. Mother of Rock has the feel of a TV documentary with its ubiquitous narration, talking heads and heavy reliance on stills. Close friend, Danny Fields, dominates the film with his recollections of fiery free-spirit, Roxon. Linda McCartney, sadly, cannot speak of her broken friendship with her, so Fields does.
Others, like Iggy Pop, weigh in with largely pleasant recollections. Germaine Greer, however, steals the show. Reading between the lines, it appears that the Aussie Greer exploited her friendship with Roxon to promote her career in America. Roxon didn't suffer fools and verbally slayed her "friend" one evening at Max's. On the flipside, we also sense that Roxon was envious and vindictive, shadows on her character that director Paul Clarke plays down.
There's a lot to celebrate in Roxon's short life, but was she mythic? Was she a giant? Was her life a grand drama? Again, this is a good doc, but so are hundreds of others that never make it to a festival like TIFF.
I love the Stones and rank Exile On Main Street as one of the greatest rock albums made by anyone, but the newly remastered Super Deluxe CD/book/DVD package of Exile and now this DVD documentary (released today) amounts to pure greed by The Rolling Stones.
For $141 (all Canadian retail figures) you get the remastered CD, another CD of outtakes, a DVD (we'll talk about that) and a hardcover book of photos. The remastered album sounds marvellous. It's warm and bright, though Mick's vocals remained buried in the mix (just what is he singing?). The outtakes however could've been better. It barely tops 40 minutes and misses key tracks such as the acoustic version of "All Down The Line." You're better off seeking a bootleg like this: Now, the DVD: This barely tops a full hour, and consists of several scenes from the unreleased Robert Frank film of the 1972 tour, Cocksucker Blues, and a few live songs from Ladies and Gentlemen, The Rolling Stones, a traditional concert doc that Eagle Vision will release later this year. The Blues footage is presented in the best condition I've ever seen, compared to numerous bootleg versions. You see the R-rated clips, not the naked-groupies-on-the-private-jet stuff that may never ever see the light of day. However, these are merely tastings, not the entire course.
The third element on the DVD are yet more samples from a new 61-minute doc about the making of Exile. So, this begs the question: Why didn't the Stones release the entire film in this expensive package?
This is a good film, but not as great as it could've been. Not every song is explored. Apart from Mick and Charlie, there is no contemporary footage of any other Stones or their associates like Anita Pallenberg, Keith's ex. The doc isn't exhaustive, though it paints a vivid picture of decadence and a slack creative process that somehow yielded an amazing album. I don't blame the filmmaker who had to work within the restrictions imposed by the Stones who paid for the film, nor was he given much time. (See my full review here.)
So, for the poor souls for shelled out nearly $150 for the super deluxe limited editon whatever, you gotta pay another $20 for a DVD you should've received already. Do the Stones need the money?
What worries me is that behaviour like this only encourages bootleggers to assemble their own "super deluxe" packages which they'll then offer free online. To be honest, the fans often do a better job of assembling these packages, because they know the material inside out and they love it. Music keeps these guys alive and they don't care for the money.
I love buying packages like this, but I don't like feeling screwed when I'm shelling out $150 for an incomplete, inferior product. Oh well, it's only rock 'n' roll.
The NXNE film series closed last night with the Canadian premiere of Stephen Kijak's doc about the making of Exile On Main Street, which has just been remastered and re-released. Stones in Exile itself will be released on DVD on Tuesday. Unfortunately, Exile was scheduled against the free Iggy Pop and Stooges show, and the screening suffered from a muddy mono sound at the newly opened The Underground Cinema, a beautiful 700-seat former Chinese movie palace.
However, this doesn't detract from a good film. At 61 minutes, Stones in Exile packs as much information and impression as it can in a stylish and entertaining manner. The Stones hired Kijak to tell the story behind the chaotic sessions which took place in a humid basement in Keith Richard's mansion located in the south of France. It's spring 1971 and Mick Jagger just got married. His new wife, Bianca, was about to have a baby in Paris, so Mick was distracted as he shuttled back and forth. Meanwhile, the extended band (horn section, singers, pianist) hung around the house with their wives and kids, giving the Nellcote mansion a communal feel (this was the afterglow of the 60s after all).
There was lots of jamming and yes, there were drugs, but that's only part of the story [see the Q&A below]. Somehow, despite the lacksadasical recording sessions and fragmented schedule, a great album was made, one that regularly shows up in Top 10 lists and is often hailed as the band's finest achievement.
Kijak tells the story through stills by photographer Dominique Tarle and most tantalizingly with footage and outtakes from Robert Frank's unreleased doc of the 1972 tour, Cocksucker Blues. Long bootlegged, those clips have never looked so clear and beautiful. There's a magnificent, never-seen snippet of Mick and Keith spinning an impromptu blues number on acoustic guitars. At times, Kijak throws in concert clips from the soon-to-be-released doc, Ladies and Gentlemen, The Rolling Stones.
Kijak also relies heavily on vintage and recent audio interviews with the Stones and their associates. Unfortunately we don't see those people on camera, like Keith's ex-wife Anita Pallenberg, and their former (and best) guitarist Mick Taylor. Instead we get unnecessary talking heads of Jack White and Sheryl Crow praising the album.
Some tidbits:
* "Tumbling Dice" was inspired by the housekeeper of the mansion who used to gamble at the nearby casino, recalls Jagger.
* "Casino Boogie" was written by Jagger a la William Burroughs by stringing random phrases together scribbled on strips of paper.
* Keith explains his smack habit, "to hide from the world." Meanwhile, Mick warns that at some point "you control the lifestyle, but then the lifestyle controls you."
* Charlie Watts, who would've been an art director had he not become a Stone, fingered photographer Robert Frank to design the cover.
We hear snippets of outtakes (such as a lovely demo of "Loving Cup") and studio chatter that only begs for more. Kijak does a good job of establishing the world from which Exile sprung, one of post-sixties decadence and bohemianism. You walk away from this film amazed that an album was finished under these difficult circumstances, especially one as great. However, I wish each song was discussed, a la the "Classic Albums" series, the interviews took place on camera, the film was longer, and a few more voices were included, such as a Jann Wenner or a rock critic.
Of all the guest interviews, the most observant comes from Jake Weber who was only eight-years-old at the time. He recalls rolling joints for his old man, who was a dealer and guest of Keith and Anita. "At this point, this was the moment of grace. This was before the darkness," he says mindful of Richards' subsequent heroin addition which almost destroyed the band. "This was the sunrise before the sunset."
What follows is a distillation of Kijak's post-screening Q&A, answering questions from myself and the audience:
1) Was your film tied in with the recent remaster release of Exile On Main Street?
Oh yeah. In an ideal world, I would've spent three years making a three-hour version. It was a work for hire--I was hired by the Stones. It was very fast. We started production and post [editing] the same day. It was all for the [reissue] deadline.
2) You had rare access to Robert Frank's footage [from Cocksucker Blues]. What footage did you not include in the film?
Drugs! [laughter] Mountains of cocaine. The famous groupie scene where she was [quote sign with his hands] gang-raped on the plane. Those reasons why Cocksucker Blues is suppressed. We do address drugs, which you can't separate from the story....Then there was the extended sequence of The Stones pulling up to this suburban home in Atlanta I think, of the family of one of the roadies or back-up singers. This big black family has cooked a Sunday brunch. The Stones pull up in station wagons and hang out. Grandma is at the stove literally cooking. It was great footage, but I had only an hour [for the film]....The challenge was, Was this applicable to the story? The film was intended for network television.
3) How does Stones In Exile compare to other accounts about the making of Exile On Main Street?
Robert Greenfield's A Season In Hellis the sex, sex, sex, drugs, drugs, drugs, rock 'n' roll story version of the story. It's great. We all love that kind of stuff, but we had to make a choice. Do we do all that or flip it. They did make a really great album. We wanted to get inside that process. Greenfield's book is really salacious, but it's a really good read. Bill Janovitz wrote one of the 33-and-a-third books [Continuum Books 33 1/3 Music Series] and that's the exact opposite--for music geeks extreme. He writes about every influence of every song.
4) Why didn't you include any of the songs found on the bonus CD found on the remastered Exile On Main Street?
Like I said I could've gone three hours on Exile alone. It's a good, little extra disc, but I didn't think why edge out some of this material for the extra disc.
5) Why didn't you film inside of the Nellcote mansion where the Stones recorded Exile?
We couldn't. A Russian billionaire now owns the house and doesn't give a shit about its legacy. We almost got arrested trying to run with the gate as it was closing. We went there with a 16mm camera. All those shots of the house, we rented a boat and zoomed up. The house is right there in the bay....It's a shame. It should be a museum.
Seattle grunge legends Mudhoney hit the stage at a few minutes before 2 am earlier today and with the first drum snap the crowd began moshing. It's been a decade since I've seen an audience shoving and bouncing with such maniacal glee, and sure enough bodies began surfing above heads.
Mudhoney roared through a solid and consistently powerful set that lasted nearly 80 minutes. "Touch Me I'm Sick" elicited the most cheers. Even the most casual observer was pumping her fist or pounding his head. A memorable show for all and an NXNE highlight.
Toronto's annual showcase of live rock music includes an ever-growing film showcase. This year it plays at several venues downtown, from the Royal Cinema in Little Italy to the AMC next to Dundas Square where Iggy Pop and the Stooges will play a free gig. Here's a round-up of this year's film series (ratings based on four **** stars) with the schedule found here:
Opening night (June 18) starts with Carnival (***), Don Letts' fine new documentary tracing the rise of the Notting Hill Caribbean carnival (like Toronto's Caribana). The evolution of that festival from pariah to mainstream mirrors the growth of the Caribbean community in England. Following that is Sounds Like A Revolution(***) made by hometown filmmakers Summer Preney and Jane Michener. It's a detailed look at protest music in the Bush age where corporate censorship and political pressure rule. The Dixie Chicks, Michael Franti and Steve Earle are just some of the outspoken musicians interviewed here.
The long-awaited Broken Social Scene film, This Movie Is Broken (**), is disappointing. Band fan, Bruce McDonald, spins a fictitious tale about a young couple who go to a real BSS gig and quarrel. The story is pointless, but the concert footage is electrifying. Better on that day (June 17) is Superstonic Sound: The Rebel Dread (***) which is a straightforward bio-doc about director Letts, who basks in a director's spotlight this year. Letts is credited for bringing reggae and punk musicians together in mid-70s London, and for filming Bob Marley, The Clash and The Sex Pistols in their prime. On the flipside, Strummerville (*) looks just like a corporate video, elevating Joe Strummer to the role of saint and casting the charity established in his name--to get troubled people making music--as nirvana. Fake. Closer to home is You Left Me Blue: The Handsome Ned Story (***). This is a 79-minute labour of love, detailing the life of country music cult favourite Handsome Ned, whose residency at the Cameron House in the early-80s helped establish this venerable Queen Street live house. Bandmates, family and admirers recall a talented guy who died too young to achieve stardom. As mentioned, Iggy takes the stage on June 19. Earlier that day, Search and Destroy: Iggy Pop and The Stooges' Raw Power (***1/2) screens, telling the story behind the making of this great, LOUD rock record from 1973. The doc is told much like a Classic Albums episode with many modern reminisces by the band, old concert footage and a peek at the session tapes.
Closing the film series is the Canadian premiere of Stones in Exile, about the making of The Rolling Stones' Exile On Main Street,which has just been remastered and re-released. This film played at Cannes and being a Stones' fan I'm eager to see it, but alas no press screenings were held before NXNE.
I never heard of the Magnetic Fields until I saw this film, but after seeing it I didn't much care about them either. They are a cult band with a dedicated following, but beyond that there's little else to say about bandleader Stephin Merritt. He and bandmate-manager, Claudia Gonson, arose out of the Reagan 80s to become indie darlings, but never hit mainstream success due to their unusual instrumentation (a cello) and dour lyrics. Billed as both a genius and misanthrope, Merritt isn't exactly either. Instead, he comes across as a talented guy making interesting music, but he's also withdrawn and speaks in a consistent monotone which makes him a lousy choice for a documentary. I never got under his skin. Fans of the Magnetic Fields will of course, beg to differ, and they will revel in vintage home movies and interviews shot over 10 years. However, the rest of us may just shrug.
This is a stylish, well-researched history of modern Brazilian music, starting with thirties Hollywood star, Carmen Miranda, and running up to the trip hop present. Interviews of David Byrne, M.I.A., Devendra Banhardt, Gilberto Gil, Tom Zé, and Os Mutantes tell the story of these infectious rhythms and catchy melodies that eventually won over North American ears. Of course bossa nova godfather, João Gilberto, his wife Astrud and their child, Bebel, are given their due (The Girl From Ipanema being the most famous Brazilian song ever), but also the Tropicália movement which arose out of the rebellious sixties. It's surprising to hear of the roles of Japanese musicians and DJs who both propelled Brazillian music beyond its tropical shores. A must-see.
Starring: Sonic Youth, Nirvana, The Ramones, Dinosaur Jr., Babes In Toyland & Gumball Featuring: Thurston Moore, Kim Gordon, Lee Ranaldo, Steve Shelley, Kurt Cobain,Dave Grohl, Krist Novoselic & Courtney Love Cinematography, Edited & Directed by David Markey
Go forth and thrash
Once in a while a film comes along and captures the precise moment when a culture shifts. One of those films is David Markey's 1991: The Year Punk Broke. Long out-of-print and unavailable on DVD, Markey's documentary chronicles the euphoric two-week European tour in August 1991 by Sonic Youth, Nirvana and other bands who would soon be labelled grunge. His film takes a snapshot of the underground just before it exploded into the mainstream.
Twenty-three days after the bands played their last gig in Rotterdam on September 1, Nirvana unleashed their album, Nevermind, upon the world. Nearly 20 years later, 1991: The Year Punk Broke makes a rare appearance at Toronto's Hot Docs International Documentary Film Festival screening from a new DigiBeta videotape that Markey reports is superior to the 1992 16mm print. Otherwise, audiences have to hunt down his film on the internet in highly compressed form (fuzzy picture, muddy MP3 sound) as it remains stuck in legal limbo with lawyers battling over rights and royalties.
Anarchy in the U.S.A.
In 1991, the Soviet empire was crumbling and Americans were entering a recession after three terms of far-right Republican rule. A cynical generation came of age that endured the greedy Reaganite eighties that left the U.S. the winner of the Cold War, but also unemployed and culturally bankrupt. (Sound familiar?) With all this anger, no wonder that punk rock (aka grunge) took off.
Music is the bellwether of cultural change. It's immediate, cheap to produce and reaches a mass audience. "Alternative" music (an insipid term) stayed underground during the Reagan era when hair bands, heavy metal and drum machines ruled. However, one of the leading alt/indie bands was Sonic Youth whose 1988 album, Daydream Nation, attracted mainstream raves and surprisingly good CD sales. These noisy New York rockers laid the path for the 90s revolution.
Sonic Youth's 1990 follow-up, Goo, was distributed by major label Geffen who, at bassist Kim Gordon's recommendation, signed a rising act of Aberdeen, Washington called Nirvana. After supporting Sonic Youth on their Goo tour, Nirvana (among others) was invited to join them on a two-week tour of Europe in August 1991.
Director David Markeycame along with his super-8mm camera and a suitcase of film. "This ended up being a last-minute thing," Markey tells Reel 'n' Rock over the phone from Los Angeles. "I had done a couple music videos and short films with Sonic Youth, and we had wanted to make a documentary of the making of Goo, like Goddard's Sympathy For The Devil." For some reason, that never happened, but when the tour came up, Markey leapt at the chance to capture it on his super-8, a format he'd been using since childhood.
By chance, the film opens on a shot of a baby like the cover of Nevermind. Beneath the opening credits, Thurston Moore does his campy white boy rap as wife and SY bassist Kim Gordon and Nirvana singer/guitarist Kurt Cobain dance like little children over railroad tracks.
Markey's camera work is unapologetically handheld. We're used to shakiness now, but 1992 audience weren't and were instead expecting the slickness found in Nirvana's MTV videos, namely Smells Like Teen Spirit.
Markey recalls getting very mixed reviews upon the 1992 release. However, in his defence, his grainy super-8 handheld style perfectly suits the rough, raw style of Sonic Youth, Nirvana, Dinosaur Jr and all the bands in this film. His style also harks back to the earliest days of rock docs and sits comfortably next to D.A. Pennebaker's 1967 groundbreaker, Don't Look Back, about Dylan's 1965 British tour:
Thurston's white boy rapper persona is the thread that runs through Year Punk Broke, as his interviews and on-camera raps link the disparate performances gathered from the tour. Besides creating unity, Thurston's raps help elevate this film from the typical concert doc ghetto of live clips. Moore acts like a Greek chorus, joking often, but sometimes spewing some truths. Basically, he's saying that Western (and Eastern) youth culture is sick of the straightjacket they've worn for the past decade and that a fresh, new voice is rising to the fore. However, there's a sense in his tone that the Corporate Machine may later absorb this movement into its guts.
Moore's character came directly from his white homeboy character that starred in Markey's hilarious short film made that spring called Rap Damage (In Search of The Hip Hop Rabbit):
Cut to the first concert number: a sea of heads bob in the sun to the beat of Schizophrenia: "...her brother says she's just a bitch with a golden chain." A new young tribe of rock has gathered, celebrating something pure and visceral, and entirely their own. Sonic Youth's thrashing guitars slice away the clean corporate music of the eighties.
After their rousing performance, we move to white rapper Moore jabbering away from his hotel window with bandmate Lee Renaldo looking on, until Moore declares to an empty street beneath him, "Go forth and thrash!"
That perfectly leads to Cobain singing the opening verse of Negative Creep in a dainty falsetto before Nirvana launches into the song full-throttle like a Panzer division hurtling across the Rhine. Unlike the languid tempo of Schizophrenia, the sequence here propels forward in a swirl of images:
Kurt bodysurfs, drummer Dave Grohl furiously smashes his hi-hat, the giant Krist Novoselic twirls the small Cobain upon his shoulders like a wrestler, the crowd pogoes in a sea of bobbing heads. Nirvana's entrance in the film is simply explosive. Markey ends the montage on a sweet and symbolic note with Moore pulling Cobain back onto stage.
"This tour is a dare"
Moore declares to the camera that "this tour is like a dare to our parents, the Bush administration, the KGB...and the future." Elsewhere, he comments on the irony of modern punk as seen in Elle magazine with Motley Crue singing Anarchy in the U.K. "One of the most sickeningly candyassed versions you'll ever hear."
"It was an inside joke," recalls Markey who was dripping with sarcasm when he heard that version himself, "but clearly the title went on to have a whole different meaning after the fact, after Nirvana became the next Beatles." Why did Nirvana hit it so big? Markey describes that as an interesting time when "this energy that had been built up for a very long time, like a giant zit that needed popping."
The title became prophetic, but Markey insists that no one on the tour saw the Grunge Revolution coming nor uttered the G or P ("punk") words, though all the musicians were schooled in that music except The Ramones who were that school. The Ramones make a cameo onstage, all too briefly. In contrast, Markey didn't have access to another punk icon, Iggy Pop, though in one scene we see Thurston calling out to him backstage, "Here IggyIggyIggyIggy!" In another cameo, Courtney Love shows up during a press interview, all giggles and smiles. She was dating Smashing Pumpkins' Billy Corgan, so there's no interaction with Cobain on screen. "She didn't play any shows," recalls Markey. "She finagled her way backstage."
That playfulness sums up the tour. Markey's diaries and recollections describe a two-week long party with lots of booze and little sleep. Many were abroad for the first time and enjoyed the trappings of touring for a major league label, especially after toiling in countless dives (like the one where and a bouncer smashed Cobain in the face).
They perform scenes mocking Madonna's documentary at the time, Truth or Dare, with Cobain playing the wide-eyed Kevin Costner character who meets the big star backstage, causing Kim Gordon to stick her finger down her throat.
That reckless energy exploded on stage. The Year Punk Broke remains a great film to watch because the live performances are so good. Cobain shreds his vocal chords as he shrieks "NO RECESS!" in School, before he and Grohl trash their instruments. "You're in high school again," chants Cobain as we see several chickens spinning in a rotisserie.
Cobain caps another set by hurling himself atop the drum kit to end the apocalyptic Endless Nameless. Early live performances of Smells Like Teen Spirit and Pollyare icing on the cake.Not to be outdone, SY delve into oceans of feedback for Mote as strobe lights flash around them and a mirrorball lies on stage.
They rip through Teenage Riotwhich Markey accentuates with black-and-white footage and time lapse. In Kool Thing he places singer Gordon in a strip of film and intercuts frenetic concert footage with the band playing spin the bottle on the street.
Dinosaur Jr, Gumball and all-girlllll band, Babes in Toyland, hold their own against the headliners.
At the time, 1991: The Year Punk Broke was seen as another concert film, or even worse. Today, it's a pop cultural artifact that has withstood the ravages of time. Its earthiness defies nostalgia, though it's easy to mythologize the bands in this film because of the subsequent impact they had on rock music and wider Western culture. Whatever you call it, grunge set the tone for the rest of the 90s in the U.S. and the U.K. where even Britpop kings, Oasis, owed a debt to the screaming guitars-and-sweet melodic approach of Nirvana et al.
Again, Markey stresses that none of this occured to anybody at the time. He himself didn't see Cobain as the Tortured Artist, but as a member of a band called Nirvana. "Things changed really fast for them. Overnight, the pressure was on. Sadly, Cobain never resolved it."
Markey jokes that his film is "a home movie on acid," but it's really the last moment of innocence for Nirvana before megastardom devoured them: "A little snapshot as a band before all of that."
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Basically, although the CRTC agrees that AUX TV wanting to support emerging French language music is necessary, MusiquePlus doesn’t. And what they’re saying is that it’s because AUX would be competing against them. Sound completely ridiculous?… {READ MORE here:}
Allan is a Toronto filmmaker and business journalist. He's the co-director of the Sundance-funded documentary, THE FLYING STARS, and the director/writer of LITTLE MAO. Visit: http://allantong.blogspot.com/ Twitter: allan68
Directed by Paul Clarke
