Documentary Review: Suzi Q

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2020

Images from the Internet

Suzi Q

Directed by Liam Firmager

Utopia; Screen Australia; Film Victoria; Acme Film Company Production; Madmen Films

100 minutes, 2020

https://www.suziqmovie.com/

My first experience of Suzi Quatro was on May 5, 1975, when I went to see Alice Cooper play at Madison Square Garden as part of the Welcome to My Nightmare Tour. Our seats were literally the last row of the upper balcony, facing the stage; you could not get any further away. Suzi was less than an inch tall from that distance. As it is, she is petite, but her sound was humongous, and made an impression on me (more than Cooper, quite honestly; it was my second time to see him there). The next day I went out and bought the then-recently released Your Mamma Won’t Like Me album, during her funkier period (the same month I would see the Ramones for the first time).

Women in rock seemed to come in waves up until the mid-‘70s: the first innovators were in the 1950s who never really got the credit they deserved, such as Wanda Jackson, which lasted until after the Shangri-Las’ boom of girl groups through early ‘60s. Then there were the blues rockers, such as Grace Slick and ended with the death of Janis Joplin. The next wave started a few years after Joplin’s 1970 passing, when Quatro released her eponymous proto-punk/metal album in 1973.

With songs like “Devil Gate Drive” and “Can the Can,” through her MTV-fueled “Rock Hard,” her vocals and starting with the employment of a huge 1957 Fender Precision bass hit a strong note. It’s been over 50 years since she started at age 14, but the story of that journey is the bassist – I mean, basis of this Australian documentary.

Suzi was huge all over the world, selling tens of millions of records, but here in the US of A, she was barely promoted by her record distributor (though she did make the cover of the Rolling Stone) and her sales were flat in her own ‘hood, relatively speaking. That’s part of why, even though she was born and raised in the Grosse Pointe area of Detroit, she has spent most of her life in England, starting the very early 1970s when she was brought over by infamous producer Mickey Most. All across the globe she was a presence on television on shows like “Top of the Pops,” but I remember mostly import LPs in stores that dealt with those (such as Disc-O-Rama on 8th Street, off McDougal, where I bought most of the early punk releases, but I digress…).

With hits all over the world but never really respected on a level she deserved in her own country, no wonder she stayed in the UK. Though I liked Suzi’s music, I really didn’t know much about her or her career. That is part of why I was so excited about this documentary, for which Suzi is incredibly deserving and involved. The fact that her first big hit in the States was a limp duet with Chris Norman, “Stumblin’ In,” shows how shallow the tastes of the mainstream American audience had become at the time.

Most documentaries, including this one, focus mainly on the high moments of fame, but one of the aspects I found interesting was the earlier years, covered in the first 15-20 minutes, when she was part of a “family” band of her sisters, starting with The Pleasure Seekers, which transformed into Cradle. One thing missing from here that I found interesting is the lack of mention of the only male in Cradle, future New York Dolls and Heartbreakers (with Johnny Thunders, not Tom Petty) drummer Jerry Nolan, who became involved with one of the sisters. Not even a picture, and there are lots of the band. But then again, this isn’t about him or the sister, but more my own personal interests.

Upon her fame in the mid-1970s, this documentary touches on two points I would have liked to have heard more of, and that is how she challenged the Glam scene (nice comment here about how Suzi’s band didn’t see themselves as Glam because Suzi was the only member “who wore make-up,” much like the Ramones didn’t consider themselves punk), rivaling the charts with artists like Marc Bolan, David Bowie, and Sweet (guitarist Andy Scott is interviewed here). The other is more of a social context of Feminism pushback by the British press, postulated by the juxtaposition in that at first people complained that women weren’t allowed to rock like the boys, and then grumbled when they did just that, threatening the machismo machine of rock and roll. Both While this is not a complaint, really, Glam and Feminism are given a couple of minutes each. I am glad at least they were addressed.

I am amused that there is a section devoted just to Suzi’s first Aussie tour in 1974. Of course, this actually makes sense, as footage is more readily available there for this home-grown piece. Again, this is more of an area I’m not familiar with in Suzi’s career, so I am incredibly grateful for the footage and information.

The film also rightfully focuses on the magnitude of the influence Suzi has had on the lives and careers of other musicians. So many women have picked up music as a vocation thanks to Suzi, including members of The Runaways (here represented by vocalist Cherie Currie, guitarist Joan Jett looking “Cher-ized,” and lead guitarist Lita Ford), The Go-Go’s (bassist Kathy Valentine), and Talking Heads and The Tom Tom Club (bassist Tina Weymouth and drummer Chris Franz).

Interviews also include (but not only), alphabetically, Rodney Bingenheimer (KROQ DJ), Clem Burke (Blondie drummer), Mike Chapman (1970s British record producer), Alice Cooper, John ”Norwood” Fisher (Fishbone), Deborah Harry (Blondie), Garry Marshall (producer of “Happy Days”; d. 2016), Don Powell (Slade drummer), Donita Sparks (L7 guitarist and vocals), Suzi’s ex-husband and member of the Suzi Quatro band Len Tuckey, KT Tunstall, and of course, the Fonz, Henry Winkler (“Happy Days”). Members of her family, including her sister Patti, who would become a member of Fanny, and brother Michael, who was her manager in the early days, are also represented.

But don’t think that this is just another one of those talking head interview extravaganzas. Hardly. This is jam packed with rare footage of Suzi playing live, photos of her on and off the stage (childhood, backstage, onstage, living her life), press and magazine covers, and clips of rare interviews (e.g., on the radio such as Rodney on the ROQ, and television mainly in the UK and Australia).

The best, of course, is the direct interviews with Suzi herself. She is extremely candid, bright-eyed, and humorous looking back on her 70 years, nearly 55 of them in the public eye. It’s obvious that her contribution was taken over a period of time, because we see her in different settings, rather than just the one-camera-one-shot that is so common with these kinds of biography films.

Then, there is also the music. Lots of music. No song is shown complete, but there are clips of her recordings and live shows, and all of it is quite thrilling, actually, giving a decent overall picture of why she was/is such a role model. Most people with whom I have talked about Suzi seem to know her mostly as Leather Tuscadero, during her stint on “Happy Days.” In my opinion, this role kind of put a dent in her reputation as a foundation artist, but she bounced back. Also, it was the mortar to what would become a strong acting career.

So many life documentaries are formulaic with interviews mixed with some photos or videos. Firmager mixes it up quite a bit. There is also a nice intermingling of genders, which I find to be often lacking in these kinds of adventures, especially for that period of rock and roll. In addition, I would like to point out that nearly all the people who talk about Suzi are those who are first-person connections, rather than merely journalists or writers spouting second-hand retellings, (such as, “In [date] at [location], the story goes that Suzi did this such thing…”). This is an incredibly well-assembled account of the life of a career musician.

Though the main focus is the height of Suzi’s career in the mid- to late-1970s, the beginning and the later British West End stage acting phases of her life are not glossed over, which is good because I did not know a lot of it.

As the film was ending, I checked in with myself and realized I had an unconscious smile on my face. Honestly, I have been wanting to see the film since its Australian opening in November of 2019. Was it worth the wait? Oh, hell, yeah, it – err – rocks hard.

Fanfare for NIKKI AND THE CORVETTES [1980]

Text by Nancy “Suzi Quick Change” Foster / FFanzeen fanzine, 1980

Introduction by Robert Barry Francos © FFanzeen blog, 2017

Images from the Internet

This article was originally printed in FFanzeen, issue #6, dated Year-End 1980. It was written by Suzi Quick Change, nee Nancy Foster; today she goes by the moniker Nancy Neon. This appears in a slightly edited form from the original. – RBF, 2017

My fave new rock’n’roll band (along with the Bandstands) is Nikki and the Corvettes. Imagine a cuter, sexier and more rocked out Shangri-Las. Picture the Ramones with two fab female back-up singers/go-go-girls and a marvelous mini-lead singer/rock’n’roll doll, Nikki Corvette.

This is the rock’n’roll band of my dreams. I really believe that Nikki Corvette embodies everything good about rock’n’roll: sweet, petite with a touch of trash, wide-eyed and a not-so-innocent, pouty mouth, disheveled hair, and go-go boots made for dancing all night long!

Nikki has really got it right on the mark. I’d say that she has the perfect image, but it is not just an image – it’s real. Nikki’s personality is all over her songs. She loves boys, rock’n’roll and fun. She writes fan letters to her fave cream dreams (one was Richard Lloyd) and her fanhood is one of the things that makes her rock’n’roll so pure, passionate and authentic.

I’m partial to this combo so much that my ideal band would be very much like Nikki and the Corvettes with only a few minor changes – less covers (though they’re fun) and more vocal arrangements for the back-up singers. Other than that, the Corvettes are perfect pop rock.

Nikki’s obsessions – rock’n’roll, boys, sex and cars – make up the body of her lyrics. This gives the combo a clearly focused direction and a congruity that is all too rare in any band. I think a lot of the songs sound similar, but for me that’s a plus. They are very stylized, but then again, so are my other fave bands: the Clash, Buzzcocks, the Jam, Generation X, the Rockats, and the Bandstands. That is due in part to the fact that Nikki writes most of the lyrics, and guitarist Peter James [of the Romantics – RBF, 2017] writes all the music.

Nikki then

The newer songs, like “Look Out,” “Everyday,” “Heart on the Line,” “Don’t Let Go,” and “What You’re Doing,” do show more variety, with a wide range of emotions, and different lyrical and music tones.

Nikki and the Corvettes currently have a fabo album on Bomp! Records. I have a tape of it that I play in the mornings. Every song makes me dance and almost all of them makes me think of a certain (“What’s his name/I can’t tell ya” – Wayne Fontana and the Mindbenders) guy just like a good rock’n’roll girlfriend should. Dancing to Nikki and the Corvettes will remain one of my fondest memories.

So, it is back to the ‘60s and the girl-group mania, when hearing a song conjured a precise emotion and a specific picture. These are songs that lovers will want to call “our song.” Sigh. Most synthetic ‘70s Muzak made you think of polyester leisure suits, not your fave rave dance partner/hot number.

My tape opens up with “He’s a Mover,” and gets me bopping immediately. The music is real hot and agitated. Nikki sings in a cute but cool semi-nasal vocal, a la the Shangri-Las (Patti Palladin, too!). The tough NYC chick voice filtered through Nikki’s from Motor City.

One of my faves is “You’re the One.” The vocals and the accompaniment are sexy and you can get your message across to your dance partner by singing the words along with Nikki:
Come in a little closer now baby, baby

Just keep moving and don’t get lazy

It’s getting so hot baby, baby

My head is spinning

And it’s you that I’m craving

–        Corvette/James

“C’mon” shows off the Peter James’ guitar style that I adore so much. Nikki and Peter make a perfect team – her lyrics sizzle with sex and so does his playing. Plus it has those Searchers/Byrds nuances. These kids have roots and impeccable taste.

“You’re Just What I Needed” really shows off the Corvettes’ tight, throbbing rhythm section. Bassist Larry (bass), like Peter, has a lot of stage presence. The drummer, Brad [Elvis], has a keen, economical, steady and insistent drumming style that is essential to good, danceable pop-rock.

Nikki now

“Boys, Boys, Boys” is a fantabulous anthem. It has that keen surf guitar swing style to it. I never had so much fun seeing or listening to any combo before. “Let’s Go” is a great souped-up, Ramones’ style, manic number – a youth anthem. The percussion is emphatic with grrr-8 Berry guitar riffs.

Still another rave-up is “Shake It Up,” with more surfing guitar and punk momentum. “Backseat Love” is from Nikki’s first single and is an irresistible number. The most telling thing I can add is that this tune inspired me to write a would-be sequel called “Red Hot,” about a teenage couple who can only be alone in their car. Remember the Shangri-La’s “In His Car”? But no way does Miss Nikki want to be “Holding hands 4-ever,” like the Shangs!

“I Wanna Be Your Girlfriend” is out to seduce the shy, reticent boy. It has neat Berry licks and Beatles ending. “Summertime Fun” has rowdy reggae overtones. Nikki’s spoken part and yelps are neat-o!

Another one that tops Suzy Q’s hit parade is “Gimme Gimme.” Love that tambourine. On this one, all three girls twist up and down on the stage together. My least fave is “You Make Me Crazy,” because it is negative. No one believes that anyone would give Nikki a hard time (unless that’s an innuendo).

Live, the Corvettes do wonderful covers: Wanda Jackson’s “Honey Bop,” the Beats’ “Walkin’ Out on Love,” the Exciters’ “Do Wah Diddy Diddy,” the Shang’s “Boys” and “Great Big Kiss,” the Cookies’ “Chains of Love,” Connie Francis’ “Lipstick on Your Collar,” and the Beatles’ “Please, Please Me.” They also do “Young and Crazy” and “Criminal Element,” from Nikki’s first EP.

Though I dig the Flamin’ Groovies’ “Shake Some Action,” it’s too downbeat for this combo, although they do shake some action, fo’ sho’. When this grr-8 combo plays your city/state, be there or be square.

DVD Review: Blowing Fuses Left and Right – The Legendary Detroit Rock Interviews

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2016

Images from the Internet

Blowing Fuses Left and Right: The Legendary Detroit Rock Interviews

Directed by Gil Margulis

O-Rama / MVD Visual

180 minutes, 1988 / 2013

www.o-rama.net

www.mvdvisual.com

It was 1988, and print fanzines were kind of petering out, and the Internet was still a gleam in the eye. It was more a time of cable access coming into the realm of fan possibilities. New Jersey native and future tech-wiz Gil Margulis knew that. Being a big fan of the sound that had come out of the nascent punk scene of the Grande Ballroom in Detroit, he grabbed his camcorder and with a birthday present plane ticket from his parents for his 19th birthday, he set out to find out more.

What he came away with was phenomenal, including extensive interviews with Ron Aston, Rob Tyner, and Dennis Thompson, three legends from the Detroit music scene of the late 1960s that are presented here. There were others (an extended version of this DVD exists with more interviews), which would be culled into a documentary directed by Margulis called Back on Shaking Street. Now he’s released the original, full interview tapes.

There is a recent documentary I reviewed about the Grande Ballroom called Louder than Love, and missing were interviews with Ashton and Tyner, as they both had passed on a while back (both of heart attacks), so it was good to hear their take on it all, even from nearly 30 years ago.

There is no doubt that the bands that Ashton, Tyner and Thompson represent are part of the pantheon of what was to become not just punk rock, but heavy rock and metal in general. No one presented rock and roll the way they had before, be it the fuzz and noise of the Stooges, or the sheer weight and pounding of the MC5. For its time, it truly was musical anarchy.

Back in the days of camcorders, which generally weighed about 7 pounds (bought mine in ’85), it seemed like an amazing tool: a video you can make yourself was proto-Social Media. Looking back after years of High Definition and wear-and-tear on the breakdown of the magnetic tape in the VHS, the quality is kinda… iffy by today’s standards. But oh, what gloriousness has been captured by the little folks who previously could only view what was presented rather than creating what you want to see.

The DVD is broken up into four parts. The first is just over a minute long of Margulis standing in front of his Westfield, New Jersey high school, where the MC5 played in 1969 (around the time he was born), talking about how the music that came from that city changed his life. He isn’t the only one, as even Henry Rollins has oft discussed the turning point of hearing the Stooges and MC5. For some, I know it’s Alice Cooper; others, the garage madness of the Amboy Dukes. But the Stooges and the MC5 were a different, rougher breed that relied on power more than shock theatrics or psychedelia (without my meaning to disparage either of those bands).

Ron Ashton, who died in 2009, was the guitarist of both the Stooges and noise-punk pioneers Destroy All Monsters. Thing is, Ashton had a reputation for being, well, cantankerous and standoffish. But for Margulis, that didn’t seem to be an issue. With the camera set up in the kitchen of Ron’s mother, a few Coors and ciggybutts, Ashton frankly tells his story of the Stooges, straightforward and very relaxed. You can hear his mom in the background, and someone named Bob answering a phone, but Margulis askes some decent (but not overly deep) questions about the Stooges history.

In describing the early Stooges, their volume was infamous, and that is where the title of this DVD comes from, as Ashton comments that when the Stooges played early on, they were “blowing fuses left and right.”

Destroy All Monsters doesn’t come up until nearly the end of the interview. After being finished with the basic Q&As, we are taken to and shown the front of the house where the band rented to first practice for the summer before their gigging started. After a few minutes there, we are next taken to the house of the Stooges first manager. The importance? It is where the Stooges played their very first gig, in the front living room of that (then) tiny house, which is now a business. We don’t see the insides to these two places, but hey, that is really okay. It is a treasure to hear the Stooges story from Ashton, as it tends to come from either Iggy Pop or James Williamson, the band’s second guitarist who joined after the band was established. This segment last for 40:19. Hell, it’s almost worth it just to hear him use the phrase grok.

The next segment is a lengthy 1:13:00 with Rob Tyner, the vocalist of the MC5, who changed the world with his now infamous battle cry, “Kick out the jams, motherfucker!” Margulis’s camera is set up in his home, and he is also very straightforward and quite charming, as he sips his mug and talks about what Detroit was like when he was growing up, where your choices were the factory, the military or college, and how he was determined to do none of those.

One of the interesting topics he covers is how competitive the Grande was, especially to the British touring bands, rather than a communal “flower power” mindset. Tyner tells about how Cream found it rough to play with them, and reported them as “Insolent” to Grande owner Russ Gibbs. But Tyner says, matter of factly (but with a gleam), “This is Detroit and they’re lucky we didn’t shoot ‘em.”

Tyner especially starts to perk up when he talks about political philosophy, discussing Reganism, violence, and especially his bitter feelings towards the MC5’s association with political poet John Sinclair, who managed the band. According to Tyner, the way Sinclair described himself was as “Pharaoh of the Hippies,” as he drained the money from the MC5 to further his own Maoist and “White Panther Party” rhetoric and movement. One of Tyner’s major regrets was the association of the MC5 with politics, which he believes brought down the band in the long run.

Thanks to some more comprehensive questions from Margulis, Tyner elaborates a lot of what he thinks of the then-flourishing punk movement (NME sent him to England to write a story about the British scene), the differences of Detroit then and now both musically and communally, and his work with the band Vertical Pillows.

However, he never mentions a single other member of MC5 by name. It’s also interesting to hear Tyner talk about the future, and his fear about where the world is going when he’s old. He further mentions that he could die at any moment, thoughtful considering he died just three years after this interview at only 46 years, in 1991.

Last up is the MC5’s drummer, Dennis Thompson, for 45:12. Thompson sits in a room in mirror sunglasses (which he takes off early on, thankfully), Hawaiian shirt, smoking a series of cigarettes, and for some reason has an assault rifle behind him next to a window. Thompson was also the key for Margulis to contact and set up the rest of the interviews.

While he starts of a bit on the pretentious side (“today’s music sucks because they don’t have fast cars; now it’s all four cylinder”), when he gets down to it, he really strips it down, explaining how the band was not the political vanguard, it was all hype, and other than being against the Vietnam war, they were apolitical. Their manager, John Sinclair, however, was not, and knew how to manipulate the media. All the MC5 wanted, he posits, was to be a great rock and roll band. And that, he further states, was ruined in part by Jon Landau: the MC5 were the first band he produced, and Thompson states he didn’t know what he was doing, so the record – and band – suffered for it.

In the second half of the interview, Thompson starts plays schoolteacher to Margulis by holding a globe and explains how people are now mediated and revolutions from the ‘60s were buried and controlled, which also affected the legacy of the MC5. He challenges Margulis with “you have to go back to look at bands that are dead and gone because they had something to say, and you don’t hear that nowadays.”

The last third of the interview is the most interesting (it’s all worth watching, but this especially), when Thompson goes on an absolute political rant about governments, capitalism, terrorism and the world under Reagan. Wow.

Honestly, it took me a while to get to this DVD, being 3 hours long, but now that I’ve watched it, it was a good time spent. It gave me a bit more of a background of the Detroit scene of that time, which really was a unique macro-ecology/-economy of thought and sound, which has since spread this message beyond the barrier of the time in which it took place.

DVD Review: Louder than Love: The Grande Ballroom Story

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2016

Images from the Internet

Louder than Love: The Grande Ballroom Story

Produced and directed by Tony D’Annunzio

74 minutes, 2016

www.thegrandeballroomstory.com

www.mvdvisual.com

When most people think of music from Detroit in the ‘60s to ‘70s, the first bound to come to mind is Motown. Great stuff, no doubt, but there was more to the city than that. Out of the industrial city came a thunder of guitars, unprecedented attitude, and attack-mode rock from a venue called the Grande Ballroom. The title of the documentary comes from the music of the Grande being more voluminous than another club called Love a few blocks over, but I also think it could be interpreted as being louder than most of the other music from either Coast during that Summer of Love. The MC5, the Stooges (with Iggy Pop), Alice Cooper, the Frost, and even the Amboy Dukes rose out of the Grande to change the face of music and prepare the way for the punk movement that was to come nearly a decade later out of New York.

The Grande Ballroom (pronounced Grand-ee), however, was not the “Detroit CBGBs,” but more like an explosive Fillmore (pick East or West), in which many of the touring rock bands, such as the Who, Big Brother and the Holding Company, and Cream would play on their way across the States.

Though actually only around for a relatively short while (1967-1972), the effect on American – and British for that matter – music is undeniable. Sure the Stones had Toronto as their fave place, but the Who were so enamoured with the Grande that they premiered Tommy on its stage. Alice Cooper points out here that the talent level on that stage so was high that it was either get better to get lost. To inspire bands, the crowd was known to shout out, you got it, “Kick out the jams, motherfucker!” which is the origin of the MC5’s infamous and ground-breaking call to arms.

The amount of interviews throughout the documentary are staggering including nearly all surviving members of the MC5, Roger Daltry, Alice Cooper, Dick Wagner (d. 2014), BB King (d. 2014), Slash, Lemmy (d. 2015), Grand funk Railroad’s Mark Farner, the omnipresent Henry Rollins (who was 11 years old when the club closed, but is acknowledged to be a huge Stooges fan), Stooges’ second guitarist James Williamson, and even scuzzbucket right wing nutcase Ted Nugent (while I didn’t necessarily need to hear anything he had to say, the Amboy Dukes were an amazing band). No Iggy, though, FYI.

For me, one of the important interviews was with Russ Gibb, who was the owner and founder of the Grande, on the level of Bill Graham without the ego. Well, him and most of the staff of the place are interviewed in detail with lots of anecdotes. Which brings me to:

There are three themes in this that are worth nothing. First and foremost are the interviews, including with Ruth Hoffman, a self-described groupie who tells a tale of getting drunk with someone and comparing men’s butts, only to find the person get up on stage and it’s Janis Joplin. Or, the stories of the whole audience participating in loading up a band’s gear so they can make it to the airport. Then there’s someone bringing Eric Clapton and Ginger Baker to their parents’ home for supper. There are these, along with the “The Stooges!” “Alice Cooper!” “The Who!” meshugas.

Second, there are the images. I am not talking about the talking heads interviews, I mean both the live footage and stills from the day that show just how extreme the entire scene quickly became. There’s everything from onstage action to, well, Eric and Ginger at the family supper.

What I found also interesting was the juxtaposition shots of what the Grande looked like then and its condition now, but more on that later.

For me, the weakest spot is the use of music. Listen, I understand that if all the music discussed would be played as a focal point, this film would be about 20 hours long. That being said, most the sounds you hear are in the background; it runs through the whole film, but little of it is identified except in the song credits at the end. Also, in most cases, it’s snippets… well, probably, because it is in the background under the dialog, so it’s hard to pay attention to it except peripherally. But if that’s the biggest complaint I have, it’s a mere four bars considering the magnitude of the story behind it.

There are a number of really nice extras. The first, at nearly 16 minutes, is “Grande Tales,” which is further interviews (with no indication of who is talking, so watch the film first). At nearly a half hour, you can see what their infamous light shows looked like (sans sound… or mind altering substances). After the 5-minute long trailer, there’s “Dave Miller Grande Wedding,” at nearly 4 minutes. Dave was the MC, and his wedding show was infamous among the inner circle; he wore outrageous make-up that makes Alice Cooper’s look moderate, and it’s also silent, as is the next 10-minute long “Dave Miler’s Home Movies” (I’m guessing 16mm), where he shoots various band members at his parent’s house. It’s a lot of fuzzy fun. Last up is “Belle Isle Love In” (1967), another silent home movie lasting over 5 minutes that focuses in on the audience (especially the women) as much as the bands.

When the Grande closed in 1972 (though there is no mention of why here), the building was abandoned and is in a state of severe disrepair. Watching the comparison shots of the place then and now is both fascinating and heartbreaking. Personally, I’d love to see it become a heritage building, and have the Detroit government not only fix it up, but turn it into a museum. But, of course, Detroit is broke, so that’s not gonna happen anytime soon.

Considering the number of talking heads, the stories are fascinating enough to keep the viewers’ interest for the entire time, and D’Annunzio keeps his ego in check to make this just the right length to do that. A must for anyone who is into rock history, the nascent beginnings of punk, or just love to hear stories about that period. A visual kicking out of the jams.

Bonus video (not on DVD):