Old
School Music Documentaries
by
Kristin Battestella
This
trio of recent music documentaries highlighting classic cool subjects
is all about sex, drugs, and rock n roll – with some vinyl, music
genius, depression, and shop talk bandied about for good measure.
The Beach Boys: Making Pet Sounds
– This fiftieth anniversary hour revisits the 1966 album's
inception, recording, and legacy with Brian Wilson, Mike Love, Al
Jardine, Bruce Johnston, and David Marks amid interviews with fellow
musicians, engineers, and music historians. Surfboards, classic cars,
and board shorts add to California Sound nostalgia, and familiar
notes from the likes of “Surfin' Safari,” “Little Deuce Scoop,”
“Surfer Girl,” and “California Girls” anchor the archive
photos and video footage with the late Carl and Dennis Wilson as
conversations at the piano and chatting in studio revisit childhood
inspirations, early harmonizing, surf hits, and rigorous touring.
Such tough travel broke Brian Wilson down, thrusting him into the
studio at home for the titular sessions that would turn the group
from sunny pop to something more serious with my favorite “Wouldn't
It Be Nice,” “God Only Knows,” “Sloop John B,” “I Just
Wasn't Made for These Times,” “Here Today,” and more. This
mostly track by track story is told quickly without a narrator
slowing the intimate pacing, first hand facts, and reflections waxing
on the musical experimentation, complex songwriting, and sixties
influences like The Kingston Trio, Rubber
Soul, and the Spector Wall
of Sound. Original recording samples and isolated vocals or backing
tracks break down the song constructs while debating the significance
of that term 'musical genius' and dabbling with acid or LSD. Band
arguments about the concept album as art rather than sticking to the
repetitive commercial formula are also recalled amid the then
progressive use of female studio musicians, unique sound
developments, lyrical impressiveness, and sublime expressions of self
in song. Mismarketing mistakes and lack of company support hampered
the eponymous release at the time, however it's interesting to hear
British music experts discussing The Beach Boys now respected legacy
and influence – because we probably tend to thing Brits in the
sixties were preoccupied with that other group that begins with The
Bea... Perhaps viewers need to be familiar with Brian Wilson and Co.
or mid century music trends before The British Invasion to keep up
with the reflective dialogue and album timelines, but there are some
great insights to disprove millennials who may dismiss this music as
nothing more than Kokomo, John Stamos on the Bongos, or that Beach
Boys Baywatch
episode. This feature gives newer listeners a tip of the iceberg
education in how rock and roll became a 'religious experience' while
escorting longtime fans and baby boomer down memory lane.
Janis: Little Girl Blue –
Music as creation, imagination, and rhythm quotes accent archive
footage and feisty concert video to open this 2015 feature length
documentary. However, the zany performances and fashion flair are
countered with speeches on loneliness and voiceover letters debating
talent versus ambition and the need to be loved or proud of yourself.
Tearful recollections with family and friends mirror our subject's
sad turn aways from the camera and disliking of her appearance as
childhood photos, personal writings, and rare artwork anchor tales of
bucking the old fashioned southern ways with a brash beatnik
personality. The early Austin scene had its own bullying and lack of
acceptance with Joplin voted winner of an ugliest man contest. Pain
already influenced her songs – creating a constant need for a tight
knit group of friends to tell her she was 'hot shit.' Moving to San
Francisco in 1963 leads to Monterey encounters with Bob Dylan and
Otis Redding, but bad boyfriends and conflicted lesbian leanings
spiral into drug use, interventions, heartbreaking love letters
unanswered, and a desperate seeking of happiness in any form.
Additional writings apologize to her parents for not being who they
wanted her to be, but Joplin finds counterculture camaraderie with
Big Brother and the Holding Company and being true to herself on
stage. Music journalists, sixties compatriots, and rare confessions
from Dick Cavett recount bad record contracts, dalliances, rifts with
the bad, and trouble to stay sober before Joplin's breakout at the
1967 Monterey Pop Festival. Stunning renditions of “Ball and
Chain,” “Piece of My Heart,” “Summertime,” “Trust in Me
Baby,” “Work Me Lord,” “I Need A Man to Love,” “Cry
Baby,” and of course “Me and Bobby McGee” define her quest to
be a star alongside
studio behind the scenes, concert montages, and constant pressure to
prove herself with difficult touring, hotels, and out of control
heroin. All was right with the world while on stage – but what
happens when the performance is over and you are alone with no
audience cheering your name? Romance and healing travels can't stave
off enablers, burning the torch at both ends at Woodstock, and a
difficult Texas return. Joplin had an intuitive need to go on singing
everybody's blues because she thought nobody cared anyway. If you
somehow don't know how her story ends, viewers can tell it won't end
well despite the sweet, sweet music along the way.
This is a personal retelling sans narrator with a superb finale – a
bittersweet biography always worth revisiting to appreciate the pain
and sadness behind great rock and roll.
Last Shop Standing: The Rise, Fall, and Rebirth of the Independent Record Shop – This 2013
British hour based on the book of same name chronicles the resilience
of the mom and pop music shop from the early days of 78s and mass
copies of Elvis, The Beatles, and The Rolling Stones to the rise of
Punk Rock, The Clash, independent record distribution, and recent
retail upheavals. The conversational style recalls the popular hang
outs, listening booths, and allowances spent on singles with
rivalries over too many shops in the same town before the eighties
hype salesmen and manipulating chart sales changing who was hot and
what stock to order. The record business was good even into the
nineties, and interviewees make an interesting case on whether it was
wise to decrease the quality of vinyl and kill records all together
in favor of the supposedly sounding better, unbreakable, and space
saving Compact Disc rather than just letting the mediums coexist.
Because, of course, physical CD sales are down now and records are
back – and the niche market never really left if you knew where to
shop. Small profits, expensive overhead, and the advent of streaming
in the new millennium led to shuttered shops amid big box store price
wars and the ease of instantaneous music. Listeners now think in
terms of cheap, even free or illegal individual songs rather than the
expense of an entire album, however vinyl stores still cater to
customers with their personality and knowledgeability, appreciating
the difference between discovering a treasure to love instead of the
intangible cloud. Some of the business talk or British slang might be
confusing to some, but this is a very informative recounting of the
industry history as, pun intended, what comes around goes around –
chain stores weigh music sales on price versus floor space and often
don't have what consumers want. While some indie record stores are
surviving, others featured here closed during filming and the fate of
any stand alone shop remains uncertain even as music companies are
re-releasing vinyl or issuing new music on deluxe LPs and popularity
increases with connections on social media and Record Store Day
celebrations. This might have been neat as a longer series touring
the shops seen here, but it's a nice snapshot of the music business
in the last forty years with a unique spin on appreciating the
ongoing vinyl legacy.
No comments:
Post a Comment