DVD Review: Going Underground – Paul McCartney, the Beatles and the UK Counter-culture

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2016

Images from the Internet

Going Underground: Paul McCartney, the Beatles and the UK Counter-culture

Written and directed by Tom O’Dell

Narrated by Thomas Arnold

Pride Films / Chrome Dreams Media

153 minutes, 2013

www.prismfilms.co.uk

www.chromedreams.co.uk

www.mvdvisual.com

There were many counter-cultures (aka the peace movement and hippies) in the 1960s, and in fact, more than one in the United States. The one in San Francisco was different than the one in Los Angeles, and both were dissimilar to those in New York or Chicago. Up north, Vancouver was the Canadian center (or in this case centre), but there was also one in Toronto and Montreal. Every major city had their own, yet ironically, many people left to find someone else’s, moving across the country to the other centers, especially SF and NYC.

What most of the scenes had in common, though, were LSD and the Beatles, especially after Magical Mystery Tour and Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Their effect was so extreme, that I posit that the later album killed rock and roll as a driving musical force (until the Ramones), and became, rather, secondary to the emergence of Rock. But I digress...

But even the Beatles had to be influenced by it somewhere; it certainly didn’t emerge out of Bluebird Way. This documentary starts in the 1950s, examining the roots of the counter-culture movement, beginning with the anti-nuclear proliferation (dis)organization, which was also focused on peace / end of war / end of nuclear armament.

Step-by-step, and in great detail, as this British film lasts for 2-1/2 hours, posits that jazz (e.g., Ornette Coleman and Cecil Taylor) and then beat poetry made their way from the States and were adopted – then adapted – by the British, leading to a bookstore that would become the locus of the avant-garde music scene. Its name was Indica, named after a form of cannabis plant. No surprise there, eh wot? The store was owned, in part, by Peter Asher. In 1966, it would have its own newspaper / newsletter / fanzine called the International Times (aka IT, or sometimes it)

Where the Beatles come into it is essentially through the bastions of rebellion in England, the Art Schools. Radical art leads to radical thoughts, and vice-versa. This is not a tradition followed in the West, where art in schools is somewhere behind Sports, English, and Study Hall. For Paul McCartney, he was heavily influenced in things underground by his girlfriend’s family. Jane Asher’s brother was the same Peter who co-founded Indica, and who was also in the duo Peter and Gordon, whose song “World Without Love” was both written and produced by McCartney.

The Ashers also introduced Paulie to the music of John Cage, which would later influence his song, “A Day in the Life.” Further, it was his producer George Martin who would call Paul’s attention to electronic music and atonal sounds, such as those by Karl Stockhausen (who, is my guess, also had an influential hand in the Velvet Underground’s sounds, such as with “European Son”).  

The final bit to the puzzle of Paul, who would become a de facto silent partner to the movement, was Timothy Leary and his introduction of LSD to the world. No, he didn’t invent the stuff, but he promoted it brilliantly (“turn on, tune in, drop out”). John Lennon, of course, was also right behind, and with the help of reading Nietzsche, and the addition of the psychotropic drug, Lennon would write one of the first psychedelic songs, “Tomorrow Never Knows.” Hooking up with Yoko certainly had its influence, as well, as they posit here.

While all this was going on in the UK, the documentary wisely points out that they were not the only ones producing these sounds, as there were also bands like the Byrds in the States, releasing “Eight Miles High” just three weeks earlier (I would add the Count IV’s “Psychotic Reaction” and the burgeoning Garage scene). In England, there were also other simultaneous bands cropping up with the sound at the same time, such AMMmusic, a UK-based improvisational group. Their influence would be strong on the likes of Syd Barrett and his group Pink Floyd, and the Soft Machine. AMMmusic didn’t last long, but both of these other musical collectives would become identified with the movement, especially Syd Barret (d. 2006). Even on this DVD, there are periods where these other bands get more time than the Beatles around the counter-culture for using sonic techniques, but the Beatles were on top because they had the most widespread influence.

Over time, the scene spawned a central hub club in 1966, when the UFO opened (pronounced You-Foh, not U-F-O; oh, those crazy Brits!), where Pink Floyd (specifically Barrett) and Soft Machine became the musical figureheads of the movement.

An interesting argument given is that at first McCartney was shy about being associated with the UFO and IT, and would show up in disguise (including as a sheik), but in 1966, started arriving as himself. What amusingly crossed my mind is perhaps the real Paul was wary, but after his rumored death in ‘66, the Paul replacement (whom George would amusingly call Fauxl) was not as leery being associated with it..

Over a relatively short time, Paul would lose interest and John would stay involved. This film concludes that it was that incident that broke up the Beatles, rather than Yoko or business dealings, or the whole craziness about who would be their manager. To me that seems a stretch, though it could have been all of it, rather than just the one thing. Anyway, between police raids and times they were a-changin’, the scene would peter out eventually, as all scenes must. 

I’ve only touched on what goes on in this documentary, so it’s still worth a view. The counter-culture in England was definitely different than it was in the States. One thing that seems clear though, is that just like in North America, it was run by men (other than Yoko, I don’t remember a single woman even mentioned here). I remember reading a book about the 1960s Canadian counter-culture called Underground Times by Ron Verzuh (1989), and he makes similar claims about gender politics, not addressed here, but obvious to me seeing who is represented in interviews and discussions.

While there is less music expressed here in recordings than other Chrome Dream docs (and none complete, as is usual), there still is plenty. However, this film has definitely stepped up on getting movers and shakers to the scene, such as a frail and shell-shocked-looking John “Hoppy” Hopkins (d. 2015, who founded IT and organized UFO), a toothless Mick Farren (d. 2013; musician and IT journalist), Robert Wyatt (drummer for Soft Machine), Joe Boyd (founder of UFO and producer of Pink Floyd), and Eddie Provost (drummer of AMMmusic), among others. Journalists are kept at a minimum, so most of the stories are first hand.

The extras include a seven-minute short about the differences between the counter-culture scenes in North America (specifically San Francisco) and the UK titled “Other Side of the Mirror: UK and US Psychedelia,” a list of those interviewed and their accomplishments, and a link to find out more online.

Honestly, I did not know a lot of the British counter-culture history, though more familiar with its North American cousins, so this kept me interested throughout.

DVD Documentary Review: Song of the South – Duane Allman & the Rise of the Allman Brothers Band

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2016
Images from the Internet

Song of the South: Duane Allman and the Rise of the Allman Brothers Band

Written and directed by Tom O’Dell
Narrated by Thomas Arnold
Sexy Intellectual Films / Prism Films / Chrome Dreams Media
131 minutes, 2013
www.chromedreams.co.uk
www.mvdvisual.com

Before watching this documentary, here is just about everything I know about the Allman Brothers Band: formed by Duane Allman on guitar at the start, he died young in a motorcycle accident; his brother Gregg, also in the band, married Cher, fathering Elijah Blue and the union ended in a messy and public divorce; and the last is the omnipresent WOLDies die-hard “Ramblin’ Man,” ironically the band’s biggest and lasting hit that was released after Duane’s demise. But you see, that’s what’s great about this British series, at over 2 hours long, you can learn a lot in relatively a short amount of time.

Of course, this documentary is not only about the Allman Bros, per se – at least not the first the first hour – but rather about the rise of Duane Allman from just a minnow in Daytona Beach, FL (remember, Tom Petty is also from F-L-A, as Freddie Cannon once sang). Though only living to 24 years until wasting his life away in a motorcycle accident, he is given the credit for practically single-handedly creating Southern Blues Rock, and highly influencing the likes of Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Marshall Tucker Band, and Talking Heads. Okay, I’m kidding about the last one.

While long guitar virtuoso freeform guitar has never been my cuppa, I know how to respect the talent, and I have no argument with someone towards the end of this documentary commenting that Duane Allman deserves to be up there with the likes of Hendrix and, well, pick a Yardbirds guitarist. His influence is felt in what has become known as Southern Rock, but I would also argue that there are probably a lot of post psychedelic blues-based bands that learned a lick or two from ol’ Duane.

While there is some detail in the second half about the Allman Brothers Band [ABB], I was more intrigued by the earlier period of Duane’s life, during the 1960s, flittering around in bands like his first in 1961, the Uniques, the Escorts, and the Allmen (or, sometimes, All-Men), where he grew his musical chops. The music of choice for Duane was the Blues, as the number of blues clips shown in the documentary attest to his influences. For the acid (nascent Southern) rockers of his 20s and especially the guitarists, Blues was the backbone as much as rock and roll. Yes, there was quite  a bit of country mixed in there, especially with pre-ABB superstars like the ‘Dead (who combined all those sounds into what would be called “Americana”), but artificial substances would affect nearly all the musicians at the end of the ’60 and into the ‘70s. I give you Janis, for example. Duane and his band the Hour Glass moved to the West Coast pre-ABB at the hippie high-point (pun intended); there are a couple of albums released by that collective, influenced by the counter-culture.

The Hour Glass was especially interesting to me, because they sound more Left Coast than Southern Bayou, leaning towards Chicago and Blood, Sweat and Tears (though an overhanded producer is credited with that horn sound more than the band themselves). While brass and rock’n’roll has always been a bit on an oxymoron to me, the clips they play here didn’t sound too bad. Well, no worse than the two bands I mentioned, anyway.

After an attraction to Taj Mahal’s sound, Duane learned slide guitar, and then moved on to the infamous Muscle Shoals Studio in the Deep South, where he honed his talent further by backing up numerous soul and blues musicians. For the Allman fan, I’m not stating anything new, and for those who are Allman-curious, there is a whole lot more detail I’m not giving way.

I found it interesting that not only was blues an influence to the band, and especially Duane, but that he also had a later dedication to jazz, which was introduced to him by ABB drummer Jaimone Johanson. That helps explain some of the wild Miles and Coltrane flairs he had on incredibly long jams (their double-sided At the Fillmore LP had on average two songs per side, definitely giving the Dead a run for their money).

One moment I had joy with was the discussion of how Duane influenced Derek and the Dominoes when he briefly toured with them, taking “Layla” – one of the early ‘70s best rock period songs – from a ballad to what it became (of course, Clapton would have a hit with it again decades later in its slowed down, acoustic version). Again, not old news, but it’s always a joy to hear that song, even for a snippet.

The Chrome Dream formula is followed to a tee, with short, under 30-second clips of songs (both live and played over purchased b-roll, such has having images of cars and roads for “Midnight Rider,” the ABB’s first hit), talking head interviews with musicians and recording studio engineers who were there, and biographers and music historians who talk about second-hand stories and the band’s influence – as usual, no voices of women anywhere; not even wives are mentioned, let alone talking. Of course, Southern Rock is not exactly known for being a bastion for women musicians, but good ol’ boy drinkin’ and carousin’ – and a wonderful narration by Thomas Arnold.  There is also a 1970 radio interview with Duane heard in snippets full of musician-talk soundbites like “man” and “cat”; it’s the only time we hear his voice when he’s not singing. The one thing I would change if I could, given what it is, is I would put the person identification sporadically throughout, rather than only the first time the person talking is shown. Perhaps this is an assumption that the audience would know who they are? This is a minor pet peeve of mine. In fact, there is more, detailed information I would have liked to hear about, such as Duane’s OD in October 1970, which is only briefly touched on in one of the extras.

The one oddity I found is that nearly everyone on here, while discussing the importance of the other members, such as Gregg and Dickie Betts, and how they were as talented in some ways as Duane in their own rights, the consensus seems to be after Duane died, the ABB when downhill afterwards. I find this weird because, as I said, the one song that is the most identifiable with the band, Betts’ “Ramblin’ Man,” was recorded after Duane’s motorcycle accident.  The song is not mentioned here, even when talking about the “decline” of the band after Duane’s death.

There are two extras, not counting the text of the contributors’ bios. The first is the 8-minute “Willie Perkins: Life Amongst the Brothers.” He was the road manager for the band, and is represented throughout the main documentary. This is more an extended scenes that anything else; this is not meant in any demeaning way, as he tells some interesting tidbits about the man. The same is true for the second short, the X-minute “Recording the Allmans: The Albert Brothers and Criteria Studios.”

As a music historian myself, it’s always good and interesting to fill in some of the gaps of my knowledge base (hey, punk is mentioned once at the one hour-19 minute mark!). I’ll probably never purposefully purchase an ABB slide, as I don’t have one in my collection now, but I do feel more informed about the topic. That’s one of the things Chrome Dream and Prism Films is best at, yawl.

 

Bonus, non-disk video:

DVD Review: Brian Wilson – Songwriter 1969-1982

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015
Images from the Internet

Brian Wilson: Songwriter 1969-1982 (aka Brian Wilson: The Next Stage­)

Executive Producer: Rob Johnstone
Narrated by Thomas Arnold
Sexy Intellectual Films / Prism Films / Chrome Dreams Media
134 minutes, 2012
www.chromedreams.co.uk
www.mvdvisual.com

One could argue that by 1968, Brian Wilson, the genius behind the Beach Boys, Jan & Dean, and many others, was finished as a driving force., For example, he was in a series of recurring mental distress situations, his masterpiece Smile LP didn’t see the light of day for decades, and the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band had (allegedly) stolen the thunder of the creativity of that album by coming up with their own version of the studio-as-musician technical centerpiece – and that one was while the Beach Boy’s Capitol Records wouldn’t even acknowledge Smile (though bootleg versions were plentiful, especially to other musicians).

This British documentary, put out by the Chrome Dreams organization, focuses its laser beam on some of the darker years of Wilson’s career as a first-wave Beach Boy, which is good because other than a true Wilson devotee, the casual fan (such as myself) is most likely not familiar with this period. The earlier companion documentary to this, Brian Wilson: Songwriter 1962-1968, had previously been reviewed in this blog HERE.

After a very brief introduction to the Beach Boys (BB) to help the viewer catch up, it starts in earnest with the pressures Brian was under in the mid-‘60s, including constant pressure from Capitol to produce hits, and from the BB to not vary much from the formula – especially from co-vocalist/songwriter Mike Love, who was both important and a bit toxic (in my opinion) to the band, and to Brian specifically. His constant demand for the same-old-same-old caused Brian’s mid-1960s writing partner, Van Dyke Parks, to leave. Brian was interested in art; the band, with Love as its spokesperson, wanted them to be an “entertainer,” according to the film. All of it, including some heavy drug use, affected Brian to where he infamously retreated to his bed. For years.

Yet, he still managed to get his feet enough to help after a couple of disastrous LPs without him. “Let’s Do It Again,” as the film points out, is a mixture of the old BB sound and the vibe of “now” with compressed drum sounds and studio work by chief engineer Stephen Desper, who would support them in1968-71.This is a role Brian had done, mostly, and now Desper added some freshness.

Building a studio inside Brian’s house didn’t even bring him to the production table, as it were. Carl became in-charge as far as head of the studio production, which lead to a song which was a hit more in Europe than in the US, and is still one of my faves of the BB in general, “I Can Head Music.” Now, what irked me in the film is that the credit for the song is given to Phil Spector. Scuze me, but that is totally inaccurate. Yes, Spector got his name on the writing credit through his studio work, and greed to make money as co-author (this was a common trick dating back as far as the origins of rock and roll). But I have no doubt in my mind that this is an Ellie Greenwich song, written with her then-hubby, Jeff “Who Put the Bomp” Barry. While they mention Spector here, Barry/Greenwich are left on the roadside. That’s like saying the first issue of Punk magazine was written by Lou Reed.

There are a lot of interesting tidbits (of course I won’t say most of them, so no spoilers, per se, even though it is history rather than fiction), such has their connection with Brother Records after Capitol gave up on them, which is no surprise since they (a) were not selling as much product, and (b) the BB had sued the company for royalties. Twice.

As I said earlier, as a casual fan, there was so much from this period of which I was ignorant, such as Brian’s beautiful collaborations with poet Stephen Kalinich. While these recordings didn’t go anywhere, it did get him reconnected with the BB, when they signed with Reprise. This mix led to both hits and disappointments.

The films digests some of Brian’s songs by breaking down meaning in both lyric and music, sometimes fought against by both the record company and co-BB members.

Almost half way through is when the story really goes into a black hole of information for me, and I found it most refreshing for details, including his collaborations with the likes of the group American Spring and Randy Newman.

Another event that the documentary nails right on is the importance of the 1973 George Lucas film American Graffiti. This led to a wave of nostalgia for the early periods of rock and roll, including the play Grease and the television show “Happy Days.” Thanks to the wise move of their record company, the BB’s songs were compiled into an enormous selling two-record set of their hits called Endless Summer. I still remember how big it was when it came out (and yes, I have a copy that I got for a buck at a garage sale about 10 years later). This elevated the Beach Boys from trying to cope with the counterculture to becoming an All American Band and greatest hits live band. As one writer states in the film, the main set list was created at that point and remains to this day, with some exceptions (i.e., newer singles).

Under the care of Dr. Eugene Landy (d. 2006), Brian uncomfortably rejoined the BB on tour in the mid-‘70s. Landy’s influence on Brian is legendary, especially in part due to a cover story in Rolling Stone by David Felton, one of the few writers talking here that actually tells first-person anecdotes about Brian and his Landy relationship. This first time around, Landy didn’t last too long. The Landy Redux was another story.

After Landy I, Brian seemed to get better and put out what was basically a solo LP, The Beach Boys Love You, containing strange songs. While Brian kept up with some writing, his career as the preeminent Beach Boy creator was at an end by the 1980s, when the BB became associated with the Reagan administration due to their playing an infamous concert, and as the documentary points out, they were rebranded as “America’s Band.” The BB members had now reached the descriptor of middle aged white America.

The DVD leaves off with Landy II, when he comes back into the picture in the early ‘80s. As someone says here, “He saved Brian’s life, and then nearly killed him again.” What isn’t said is that the BB, sans Brian, would have a few more hits into the late ‘80s, including “Rock and Roll to the Rescue,” a cover of “California Dreaming” (in which John and Michelle Phillips appear in the song’s video), and the obnoxious (in my opinion) and omnipresent to this day “Kokomo,” all written in part by Mike Love.

The film has quite a few clips of their music (again, nothing longer than 30 seconds or so), but not much live. Sure, they’re shown on television shows, but mostly lip syncing; however, two of Brian’s infamous performances on Saturday Night Live in 1976 are shown (in part). This film is much more into the stills, BB as b-roll, and interviews with friends, co-workers (studio engineers, their manager for the early ‘70s Fred Vail, etc.), fellow musicians (amazing drummer Hal Blaine of the Wrecking Crew, who didn’t do much with the BB by the time period the doc starts) and collaborators (Kalinich), friends (Mark Volman, of the Turtles/Flo & Eddie), and the lone BB who appears, Bruce Johnston, to name a few. There are also the journalists who wrote bios of the band, who conjecture second-hand stories. Some of the people I would have loved to have seen would be Brian’s daughters Carnie and Wendy, Parks Van Dyke, and/or Carol Kaye (bassist for the Wrecking Crew; even though she despise that name, it does help shorthand a particular group)

Speaking of video clips, it’s interesting to watch Mike Love as he slowly turns over time from balding BB to a reaaaaally creepy looking Manson-like almost zombie, staring weirdly at the camera, especially in the early ‘70s segments. Brrrrrr.

The extras are some text about all the contributors (musicians, authors, etc.), and three featurettes (which are essentially interesting outtakes). The first one is the 5:11 “Philip Lambert Behind the Music.” Author / biographer Lambert discusses Brian’s technique via a piano on a couple of songs, such as “Do It Again,” a hit from the 20/20 album. The next is the 6:47 “Out of Bed: The Man Behind the Myth,” where a trio of his producers David Sandler, Earl Mankey and Stephen Desper, discuss how Brian was both creative and had a sense of humor “second only to Dennis.” The last is the 6:12 “Brian Goes Country! The Abandoned Fred Vail Album,” in which their ex-manager, talks about another lost Beach Boy albums, Cows Come Home to Pasture in 1970, before the Sunflower LP.

Part of Brian’s genius was that he was so wounded, which would, in the words of Monk, be a blessing, and a curse. This documentary covers that period pretty well. It could almost be part of their “Under Review” series, as the discussion leans towards not only Brian as a person, but an examinaiton detailing parts of his songs, and what makes them different from everything else; in other words, Brian’s genius.

 

DVD Review: Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young – Fifty By Four: Half a Century of CSNY

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015
Images from the Internet

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young – Fifty By Four: Half a Century of CSNY

Executive Producers: Rob Johnstone
Narrated by Thomas Arnold
Pride Films / Chrome Dreams Media
165 minutes, 2013 / 2014
www.chromedreams.co.uk
www.mvdvisual.com

I was wondering what should be the next DVD I would review. There is a backlog, so I have quite a few from which to choose. While out at the supermarket, as I pondered, weak and weary over a quaint and curious walking through the door, while I nodded, even though shopping, suddenly there came a sound over the PA. It was “Our House,” by Crosby, Stills and Nash (CSN). I took that as a signal that Fifty By Four was next. I had avoided it, honestly more due to its length of nearly three hours, so I decided to delve in and review that, and then watch it…er…nevermore.

Growing up, with the possible exception of “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” and “Ohio,” CSNand/orY were pretty peripheral to me, even though they were one of my older brother’s favorites. By the time the late 1960s came around, I had essentially stopped listening to the radio much, and focused more on film and television for entertainment. When they reunited on Live Aid in 1985, their set had some wincingly off-key harmonies. It wasn’t until the Ramones came along that I was lulled back into music. The catalog of CSNY was not really on my menu then either, as the punk revolution took me over. It wasn’t until someone gave me a CSN/CSNY Greatest Hits CD during the late 1990s that I started to enjoy more of their material, though a lot of it still leaves me scratching my head. And now, here we are.

Chrome Dreams (and their subsidiaries, such as Sexy Intellectual, Prism, and Pride) is a British company that does extremely detailed histories of both British and American bands or singers, including Clapton, Dylan, Zappa, the Stones and the Beatles. I have seen a few Neil Young bios by them before, and even reviewed a couple, but this is the first one I’ve seen for the whole megillah (though I know there are others from them).

CSNY fans tend to run towards the rabid, much like the Dead’s, so there is a question of who is going to watch this. For the die-hard fan, at least the first 2 hours are probably not going to be anything you don’t already know. If you’re more of a casual fan and are into music history, such as me, well, this is ideal (hell, I even read Slash’s annoying autobiography).

The DVD starts in the Laurel Canyon of Los Angeles during the mid-‘60s, with David Crosby in the Byrds, Stephen Stills and Neil Young in Buffalo Springfield, and Graham Nash in the Hollies over in the U. of K. It was the time just before the hippie revolution and the counterculture was on the cusp beyond that. It was the rise of the singer-songwriter (as opposed to the folkie, which would overlap) essentially begun the day Dylan went electric (okay, Dylan is credited here, but that last part isn’t in the documentary, but is my theory, which is mine, too).

Then, as now and always in any singular scene, bands were incestuous, and members often flow from one band to the next. Young quit Springfield, Crosby is brought in after the Monterey Pop Fest (but not before he discovers Joni Mitchell), and Nash is bored by the stuffy Brit band and wants to go all Carnaby Street. He hooks up with them and Crosby, Still and Nash are sprung. One might consider this one of the first supergroups, and that’s even before Young kinda joins the fold.



CSNY then

In a hippy dippy dopey (pot reference, FYI) idealistic mentality, they decide they are not a band, but will creatively shack up as individual singer-songwriters who perform together. But like common-law marriages, things start to get complex, especially when Stills comes out as macho Alpha Male, taking the word control of the control room literally. He ends up playing most of the instruments on their first album, Crosby, Stills and Nash (1969). By the time they start to tour, Crosby and Nash have no idea how to play the material and they get some back-up, including drummer Dallas Taylor and ex-Motown bassist, Greg Reeves. Soon, they are joined by Young (after his two failed solo albums), also an Alpha. Now the non-band is a band (see: complicated).

Over the next few decades, they would dance around each other, alternatively quitting, firing, rehiring each other due to (among other reasons) Crosby’s drug use (possibly due in part to the pain of losing his girlfriend, Christine Hinton, in a car crash), Nash and Rita Coolidge developing a relationship after she and Stills had a “tryst” (as it is described on the DVD; same thing happened with Joey and Johnny Ramone a decade later), and more ridiculously, the macho ego posturing of Stills and Young. It seems the only time they actually all worked together well was during periods of political outrage, such as the post-Kent State shooting “Ohio,” which pretty much became the anthem for the unrest in the period.

Again, most of their catalog and history are well known and documented through the late 1960s and ‘70s. The DVD especially became interesting in the last hour as the documentary starts focusing on the later part of their career, from the 1980s on, as I know so little about this period, as I was way too involved in the whole first wave punk movement to give a care about CSN(Y). Yet, even with that, I noticed that there was no mention of the media attention of Y’s joining CSN at the abovementioned Live Aid in ’85.

I know I talk about this every time I review one of Chrome Dream’s releases, but here ya go: This label has an easily identifiable, nearly auteur way of presenting their stories (usually produced by Rob Johnstone). Usually, it’s Tom Arnold doing the narration (he does a great job), as we see lots of photos, clips and interviews. The clips are a mixture of live in-concert, television performances, music videos and occasionally record cuts. Some of them are easily accessible, and some are quite rare, but in nearly all cases, they almost never last more than 20 seconds before Arnold begins talking. In some ways this is annoying because you want to hear the song, but on the other, well, this is already almost 3 hours, and it would have been more than double that if the full clips were shown. I’d like to see them include a second disc that just includes the full musical segments.



CSNY now

As for the interviews, as I’ve whined about before, there are all males talking, like women were only peripheral. The band’s momentum constantly changed due to women, including July Collins, who is never mentioned even though one of their earliest hits, “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” is about Stills’ relationship with her.

That being said, this is one of the better selections of interviews I’ve seen for one of this label’s releases. Sure, there is still the writers who give us second-hand stories and opinions (and they didn’t include the excellent Jeff Tamarkin or Richie Unterberger, both of whom write extensively on this period), but there is a large number of people who were actually there¸ giving first-hand anecdotes, rather than stories. All four of CSNY are represented, though it is via previous television interview clips through the years. However, their producers, studio engineers, and band members (yes, I’m using the term “band” and not “collective”) are interviewed specifically for this release. There are, in part, four drummers (Dallas Taylor, Joe Vitale, Joe Lala, Chad Cromwell) and three bassists (Greg Reeves, Calvin “Fuzzy” Samuel, George “Chocolate” Perry) represented, some telling what it was like in the studio, or on tour. As much as I like the writers, even those who saw the band live, it’s the ones who were in the trenches (an appropriate word considering all the conflicts within the performers) that mean more to me.

The nicest thing about this is that so many stories about ‘60s musician end with an untimely demise, but as of this review all members of CSN and Y are still kickin’ and performing – and getting somewhat along. They finally realized they “gotta get down to it.”

The extras are scarce but interesting. Other than some text info about the interviewees and a link to see more online, there is a 14+-minute short titled “Joe Vitale: The American Dream Sessions.” The personable drummer tells about recording the album at Young’s ranch in 1988.

 

Two Documentary Films About Bob Dylan and The Band: Down in the Flood; After the Crash '66-'78

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015
Images from the Internet

The reason I put these two reviews together is because they both deal with different perspectives of the same group of people in overlapping time periods, essentially from 1966 through 1978. Though both have different viewpoints and distribution companies, they really are companions as both are British release documentaries from the same parent enterprise and have an Executive Producer in common. The second DVD listed here actually was released first, but I reviewed them in the order I watched them.

Bob Dylan and the Band: Down in the Flood – Associations and Collaborations

(aka Down in the Flood: Bob Dylan, The Band & The Basement Tapes)
Executive Producer Rob Johnstone
Narrated by Thomas Arnold
Prism Films / Chrome Dreams Media
114 minutes, 2012
www.chromedreams.co.uk
www.MVDvisual.com

The title of this documentary is a bit misleading as it focuses not so much on the Zimmer-Man as much as the group that would first become famous backing him up, The Band. Actually, the documentary’s narrator, Thomas Arnold, vocalizes the “elevator pitch” of just what this DVD is about in one sentence: “This is the story of the relationship between Dylan and the Hawks, their reinvention of American Music at the close of the ‘60s, and the legendary amateur recordings they made together in Woodstock: The Basement Tapes.”

It all starts in the mysterious Deep South of the early ‘60s when rockabilly rebel Ronnie Hawkins gathered a band together and called them The Hawks. The Beatles were breaking and rockabilly was fading fast. That is when the call came from Toronto and Hawkins and the Hawks move to our friendly neighbor to the north. With attrition (and probably some work visa issues), the band is replaced one by one by Canadians, with the exception of the drummer, some guy named Levon Helm (d. 2012). Perhaps you’ve heard of him? The rest of the new group consisted of Rick Danko (bass; d. 1999), Garth Hudson (keyboard / sax), Richard Manuel (piano; d. 1986), and Robbie Robertson (guitar).

When The Hawks outgrew Hawkins’ rockabilly sound and struck out on their own just a couple of years later, they would eventually rename themselves The Band, outshining Hawkins with their own illustrious career.

Hooking up with Bob Dylan after his motorcycle accident in 1966, Dylan talked the Hawks into moving to Woodstock, NY (a very lovely, quaint and New Age-y town that is miles from where the so-called Woodstock Festival was held). They all moved into a house with pink exterior which they dubbed The Big Pink, which would eventually be the name of The Band’s first solo record after Dylan abandoned them once he got what he wanted. To date, 138 of their sessions, taped by Hudson, would emerge and be called The Basement Tapes, for obvious reasons. Decades before the release was official, the Tapes were floating around as a 2-LP bootleg. I still remember listening to it in a friend’s house in the early ‘70s. It was in a plain white cover with a stamp that read Great White Wonder. I recall the quality of the records not being that good, as it was probably several generations down the road.

Dylan does play a recurring role in the story of The Band, but that’s pretty much it. He used the group to help get him figure out the direction he wanted, and then dropped them to record his next LP, John Wesley Harding, and using studio musicians in their stead, without the people who had just spent all that time with him. This would apparently become a pattern with Bobby, using The Band as his touring group, and then dropping them before reaching the studio. On the other hand, this kind of forced The Band to strike out on their own, borrowing what they learned in that basement, and releasing their seminal first folk rock album, The Big Pink. It also contained their first – and one of their biggest – hits, “The Weight” (a song I really do not like, but I digress…).

The Big Pink would quickly be considered a classic album, a trendsetter in Americana roots rock (hence the “reinvention of American Music” comment above), and blast them into the A-list. While “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down” was also a huge hit, they never really came up to the level of Big Pink status again.

As happens with most bands, a power struggle emerges, in this case between Robertson and Helm, along with a few deaths here and there, and The Band dissolves into history not as much with a whimper but a bang, thanks in part to the release of the Martin Scorsese-directed final The Band concert, The Last Waltz, as infamous for its guest musicians (e.g., Dylan, Joni, Neil, Ronnie) as for the group’s last hurrah. All in all, the life and death of The Band really never touched me, as I always found them kind of uninteresting, even while recognizing their talent as musicians.

As with most of the prodigious series of documentaries put out by the Chrome Dream company (there’s over a dozen of just Dylan alone), the film is not just a collection of comments: there are multiple clips, both live (including arenas with Dylan and by themselves, their appearances on Saturday Night Live, and clips from The Last Waltz) and commentaries by various writers and critics (many of them British), musicians and technicians, with both first and second hand anecdotes and theories. Of course, it’s the first-hand anecdotes that attracted the most of my attention, such as Hawkins, Mickey Jones (who played drums during their 1968 world tour), The Band’s early producer John Simon, Nashville session guitarist Charley McCoy (Blonde on Blonde, John Wesley Harding, Nashville Skyline), and the one who interested me the most, Garth Hudson, who was known for both recording The Basement Tapes and also credited for giving The Band their sound. As is common with Chrome Dreams releases, there are few women who are questioned, making this a testosterone-driven doc; this is a comment I’ve made before, and I’m sadly probably going to posit again.

While I’ll never be a fan of the Band, it’s still good to get a history of them that’s somewhat thorough, and that’s one thing about this series, they really tend do delve into minutia through clips, interviews and theory. I’m glad they’re keeping track.

 

Bob Dylan: After the Crash 1966-1978 (Special Edition 2 Disc Set)
Executive Producers Rob Johnstone and Andy Cleland
Narrated by Mandy O’Neale
Pride Films / Chrome Dreams Media
DVD: Disc 1: 118 minutes, 2005 / 2013
CD: Disc 2: 50 minutes 1971 / 2013

This DVD is especially interesting to watch after the one above, because even though they cover essentially the same timeframe, and have in some respects the same format, the focus is incredibly different.

Again we approach Dylan after his motorcycle crash in 1966, but this time we hear some skepticism about whether it even happened the way Dylan explained by his friend, Al Aronowitz (d. 2005; I had the opportunity to meet Al once a year or two before he passed at an Andy Pratt / Moogy Klingman [d. 2011] show in New York City the night I got kicked out of a Starbucks; but I digress…). Either way, it infamously led to Dylan holing himself in a house in Woodstock, NY with a group of guys called the Hawks who would soon change their name to The Band.

Funny thing is, in this story, the equally infamous Basement Tapes that came out of that are just a blip in this telling of the story. The Band gets little shrift here, even when they are backing him on tours, the exception of which is towards the end when they show a clip of Dylan and the Band playing the group’s last show in Martin Scorsese’s The Last Waltz (1975); it’s the same clip from the other DVD, “Baby Let Me Follow You Down.”

The story here follows Dylan through his Nashville albums, such as John Wesley Harding and Nashville Skyline, the latter in 1969. This is accompanied by a clip of Dylan singing a duet of “Girl from the North Country” with Johnny Cash on Cash’s ABC television show (which is also shown in the other DVD).

One major difference between this DVD and many of the others from this label is that there are a remarkably fewer musical clips here, and a lot more talking head interviews. As this one originally came out a few years earlier, perhaps they were still developing the “formula” for this series? While hearing the music is great, it also can see seen as padding to make these longer, and at near two hours, I’ll take the info and be as happy as if there were snippets of songs (they never ever play full numbers, just 10-30 seconds each).

One thing I also like about the Chrome Dream series is that while they’re happy to lionize the artist in focus, there is also a level of honesty, even on the negative side. For example, for Dylan’s show with the Band at the 1969 Isle of Wight Festival, Aronowitz tells a story of why Dylan was an hour late due to a sound system issue; this is contrasted by Ray Foulk, the Festival’s organizer who blames the Band for playing too long and that it was only starting an hour later than scheduled. Much like the folkies not expecting Dylan to go electric, the Festival fans were not expecting his new country style, leading to bad reviews from press there.

Another example of this frankness is British music journalist Nigel Williamson (he appears regularly on Chrome Dream documentaries), who plainly states about Dylan’s Self Portrait LP, “It’s almost as if he deliberately set out to make an album that everyone would hate.” For New Morning, Nigel calls it a “good rather than great” album.

Around this time in the story, we are introduced to AJ Weberman, a fan who claims he was Dylan’s friend that searched Dylan’s garbage trying to find clues about song meanings. This led to some angry (and both pathetic and funny at the same time) phone calls in 1971 from Dylan asking Weberman to cease and desist. At some point Dylan physically beat Weberman up, something that would have been all over the television now; then again, Weberman couldn’t do what he did (harassment) either.

The phone calls, which Weberman recorded, have been available as bootlegs for decades, and are collected here in an accompanying CD, licensed to the documentary directly from Weberman. I found it fascinating to listen to Weberman, who is interviewed (probably part of the deal of the rights, as he comes across as a strange yet narcissistic man). This is part of the story of Dylan that has fascinated me, so it’s nice to actually see Weberman in the (digital) flesh, as he humorously claims he is starting the Bob Dylan Liberation Front against Dylan’s newer styles. I find it curious that in all the information that is flowing through this DVD, there is no mention of Dylan’s manager, Albert Grossman (d. 1986), a usually sore topic for Weberman.

There is some digging into Dylan’s only Asylum Records release Planet Waves (after pressure from David Geffen), a 1974 tour after 8 years off the road, the more successful Blood on the Tracks in 1975, and his Desire LP in the film, but it feels more informational and chronological that delving. For the deeper look, they discuss Sam Peckinpah’s Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid, which was Dylan’s first acting role (and the first and only film I ever saw stoned on weed). The film is looked at critically, but we see no clips other than the trailer, which has a brief shot of Dylan. In other words, for all the talking, there is very little imagery other than concerning the accompanying album. Weirdly, no verbal mention or musical clip is made of the biggest hit on the soundtrack (and one of my fave songs of later-day Dylan), “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.”

The next big piece in the story detailed here is the Rolling Thunder Review, a tour that started out successfully and fell under the weight of its own success and Dylan’s boredom. We see it through the eyes of Dylan’s band leader for the show, Rob Stoner (nee Rothstein; I still have a couple of his solo albums). He’s a good storyteller of what it was like to work with Dylan in both the studio and on tour, and though he left midway through the second RTR tour, he still has good words to say about Bob. What I felt was his most intriguing comment is that Phil Ochs was turned down for the RTR, and soon after took his own life in 1976, so Stoner wonders if there is a correlation. This segment is followed by the Bob Dylan directed disaster of a film, Renaldo & Clara, which all the critics interviewed here say essentially that the live footage was good, but as a piece of cinema, as a whole, it was not a success.

Towards the end of the story here, Dylan gets a bigger band, and records and releases the Street Legal album, which is well-received everywhere except on his home turf of the US. The end of this DVD comes in November 1978, when Dylan becomes a Born Again Christian.

Again, with the Chrome Dream collection, there are lots of interviews, here more than usual, consisting of writers, journalists, and some of the people who were integral to the period, such as Weberman, Stoner, Aronowitz, Foulk, as well as Ron Cornelius (guitarist on Self Portrait and New Morning), Bruce Langhorne (guitarist for Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid), Eric Weissberg (guitarist on the New York session of Blood on the Tracks), Kevin Odegard (guitarist for the Minnesota sessions of Blood on the Tracks; Jacques Levy (d. 2004; playwright and lyric collaborator on Desire), and Paul Colby (d. 2014; owner of the Bitter End). And finally, giving a strong female voice to the boys club is violinist Scarlet Rivera (Desire, Rolling Thunder Review).

The information here is both direct stories and second-hand journalism by professional writers in the field, but it flushing out pretty well, which is just what I expect from the Chrome Dream team.

 

DVD Review: David Bowie Under Review – The Calm Before the Storm: 1969-1971

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2013
Images from the Internet

David Bowie Under Review – The Calm Before the Storm: 1969-1971
Executive Producer Rob Johnstone
Narrated by Thomas Arnold
Sexy Intellectual
65 minutes, 2012
Chromedreams.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

David Bowie has always been an enigma to me, quite frankly. Sure, I understood what he was doing, and how he latched on to what he wanted – even if it originated with someone else – and made it his own. While I respect that, he has always felt pretty contrived to be, especially from his theatrical Ziggy period onward.

And yet, I have always found his story interesting, and have followed his career somewhat over the years. Now at age 66 with a new recording about to come out, here is a British documentary in the Chrome Dream collection that starts at the very beginning of his rise to superstardom.

Of course, the problem with this DVD is that Bowie’s career has been so carefully documented in every possible medium, there really isn’t too much here that’s pretty common knowledge to a true fan. But as someone who is unaware of the pre-Ziggy career, this is a treasure trove, especially all the interviews which are new, and the clips, many of which are rare.

Bowie (often pronounced as Bow-wee on this) started his public career apparently not as a musician, but as an activist for a bogus group he started for the protection of men with longer hair, back in 1964. This managed to get him his first televised experience, a clip of which is shown.

We follow him through his less-successful folkish-mawkish period, influenced by the likes of Anthony Newley (1999), when he was supposedly inspired by Bob Dylan (I don’t see the root). But as journalist Chris Roberts states in an included interview clip, “He’s always had a good ear for musicians and a good eye for collaborators. He always surrounded himself with useful people.” A special talent indeed, and I mean that with no hint of sarcasm.

After the release of his self-titled album, which bombed when first released, he came up with his break-out song, “Space Oddity,” a true rock gem. Then with the help of the likes of collaborators like guitarist Mick Ronson (d. 1993) he began to evolve through the likes of the LPs The Man Who Sold the World (1970) and Honky Dory (1971), and he became more flamboyant.

The tone started changing when Bowie opened for Tyrannosaurus Rex, and started adopting more of Marc Bolan’s proto-Glam style. Friendship turned into jealousy as Bowie’s career began to eclipse Bolan’s, though they stayed friendlimies for the rest of the latter’s short life (d. 1977). The birth of Ziggy Stardust’s androgyny started to click in Britain. Apparently, star-maker and producer John Peel (who is shown here in a 2004 interview, shortly before his death that same year) never really forgave Bowie for his alleged treatment of Bolan, and states so explicitly.

And where did that fashion style originate? Mostly from a of a cast of New York-based performers that showed up to act in a gender-ambiguously play called Pork, namely Cherry Vanilla (the woman who single-handedly helped introduce and break Bowie to the American audiences), the lovely Wayne (now Jayne) County, and publicity maven / photographer Leee Black Childers. Personally, I think these three should have been interviewed on this film because David Bowie may never have become David Bowie if it weren’t for this amazing trio (testify, Jimi L!). Luckily, they are at least given credit by one of the journalists who are part of the commentary.

That kind of style “borrowing” and eclipsing would not historically end there with Bowie. One needs just look at Boy George’s appropriation of bands like Hayzee Fantayzee. But I digress…

The other half of from what was Ziggy Stardust formed was the Andy Warhol Factory group, where Bowie is stated here as essentially saying that he wanted ‘“the mind of Lou Reed and the body of Iggy Pop. Ziggy Stardust was Bowie’s attempt to be that." Leee Childer’s once told one of FFanzeen’s writers in the 1980s that Bowie’s genius is knowing what to steal, and when. Very subtly, this DVD agrees.

There is a gaggle of journalists interviewed here mostly stating opinions, such as David Stubbs, Andrew Mueller, and Paolo Hewitt. As always, what fascinates me more are the people who are more intimately involved, like collaborators from the early years like Keith Christmas and Bob Solly. Shame they couldn’t get Angie Bowie, she certainly would have joyously livened up the volume on the DVD.

As always, there’s lots and lots of rare clips, both video and sound, from the entire period under discussion, including interviews with Bowie, of some of his influences (like Bolan and Donovan), and even a snippet of a telly advertisement in which he participated before his rise. Of course, all of these clips are short and incomplete; otherwise this would be five hours long.

In Chrome Dream fashion, this is a well-released and solidly-put together. It also feels a bit more even than some of the earlier histories, in that some interviewed are actually critical of the man at the center, rather than merely full of hyperbole (though some of that is here, too).

Now that I have finished this enjoyable history, I’m going to watch an alternative version with Velvet Goldmine.

DVD Review: The Grateful Dead: Dawn of the Dead

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2012
Images from the Internet

Dawn of the Dead: The Grateful Dead & the Rise of the San Francisco Underground
Executive Producer: Rob Johnstone
Narrated by: Thomas Arnold
Sexy Intellectual
138 minutes, 2012
Chromedreams.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

It is not often that Chrome Dreams (CD) takes on a single American band to be the subject of one of their long and detailed documentaries, but it is hardly surprising that they picked arguably the most iconic rock group of ‘60s, The Grateful Dead. For nearly two-and-a-half hours, the viewer gets not only filled in on their history, including prior to the Dead’s formation, but there are tons of clips of songs, music videos and concert footage throughout their career. As usual, CD spares no expense of royalties to give as complete a picture as is reasonable.

As sources for information, there are some of the standard CD cadre of historians and biographers of the San Fran scene, such as David Gans, Richie Unterberger, Robert Christgau, and especially the CD omnipresent Anthony DeCurtis (not meant as a dis). But as I have said in earlier reviews by the company, they have become so much better at getting some of the people who were actually there, rather than only second-hand knowledge writers. Some include Peter Albin (Big Brother and the Holding Company), Mike Wilhelm (the Charlatans, who were the pre-Grateful Dead band), Kenn Babbs (one of the few remaining original Merry Pranksters, who included Ken Kesey, Tom Wolfe, Neal Cassidy, and the rest of the dosing gang), Rock Scully (the Dead’s Manager, 1965-85), and even GD member Tom “TC” Constanten (keyboardist, 1968-70).

Of course, the story of the Grateful Dead is not just about the Dead, but rather the scene they help initiate in San Francisco (as the title states), which included the likes of Janis Joplin and Big Brother and the Holding Company, Quicksilver Messenger Service, Jefferson Airplane, and even Jimi Hendrix (though he was originally from Seattle, he was considered part of the SF scene). Many of these musicians are represented by clips, such as Hendrix’s “Wild Thing” at the infamous Monterey Pop Festival, and Quicksilver’s “All I Ever Wanted to Do (Was Love You),” but this is mostly about the Dead.

There is a wealth of material in the world about the Grateful Dead (GD), one of the most recorded and analyzed bands in the history of modern music (possibly matching even Dylan or the Beatles). This leaves lots of juicy material for CD to choose from, and they pick quite a number of sources, which, of course, is great. Sure, no clip is more than, say, a minute in length (kind of ironic considering the GD are known for songs that could literally go on for hours), but considering the sheer amount they cover, and that they choose a lot of rare live clips, makes this a getter, whether you’re a fan of the band or of the scene (I’m more of the latter).

Along with the music, films and historical narration, there are also bits of interviews from over the years. For example, Jerry Garcia discussed dancing and acid in 1993, one from Phil Lesh that same year describing major labels as “robber barons,” and Bob Weir in 2009 describes how he is just interested in music, not politics.

Whether one is a fan of the band or not is kind of irrelevant, because they were at some many of the important touchstones of the era, including the Acid Tests, the Trips Festival, Bill Graham’s concert reign (they show my fave clip of Graham, which is a fight between him and the Charlatan’s Mike Wilhelm, who describes the incident in the present on this DVD), Haight-Ashbury, the Monterey Pop Festival, and so on. Their presence was key to what we know as the pharmaceutically induced Love Generation.

Again, I would love to see more women interviewed on these histories, perhaps people on the scene, groupies or ex-wives? There is also very little about the many deaths surrounding the band, such as Ron “Pigpen” McKernan and Keith Godcheux. As this delves into the pre-GD period, what is also missing, in my opinion, is about the post-GD. For example, there is Garcia’s teaming with bluegrass musician David Grisman. Then again, perhaps I’m asking for too much considering how much history this actually does cover well.

The bonus is called “Ken Babbs and Walker T. Ryan: Fell in the Crack,” in which Babbs (on trombone) and Ryan (guitar) do a talking blues about Ken Kesey. Interesting and a bit bizarre, yet still fun.



Bonus Video: