DVD Reviews: Two Joel Gilbert Films about that Commie, Obama

Taken at a market in Xi'an, China (pic: Robert Barry Francos)

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2014
Images from the Internet (unless indicated)
Highway 61 Entertainment
www.highway61ent.com        
www.mvdvisual.com

Dreams From My Real Father: A Story of Reds and Deception

Written, produced and directed by Joel Gilbert
95 minutes, 2012

Have you ever seen a Joel Gilbert Film before? I’ve had the opportunity to experience three of them: one is Elvis Found Alive (2012) [Reviewed HERE] and another is Paul McCartney Really Is Dead: The Last Testament of George Harrison (2010) [Reviewed HERE]. Needless to say, most of the time Gilbert is full of shit in an enjoyable way. Now, these two fake documentaries are interesting and fun, especially if you already know the history to pick out the mistakes (and some are doozies). He also did a Dylan documentary with his own twist with Dylan Revealed (2010) [reviewed HERE].

Essentially, Gilbert’s shtick is to have someone verbally impersonate the person who is the subject of the film, and then tell the story as first person. Of course, what the impersonator is saying is not the person of topic’s words, but Gilbert’s. This could be amusing, and I have found it usually is. His Elvis impersonator was right on, but his George Harrison was cartoonish. Honestly, I can’t even remember how the Dylan sounded.

This leads us to this so-called documentary of the early life of President Barak Hussein Obama, who took over after the destruction of the economy by his predecessor. The film plays into all the fears of the Republican non-think points, of how Obama is associated with communists, home-grown terrorists, and socialists to bring down the country. Okay, this doesn’t align with the “birther” twits, though it does claim he was born in Washington State rather than Hawaii.

Using his familiar style, Gilbert has the voice over, breaks the film into “chapters,” and uses snippets (sometimes only playing the part of a sentence that furthers his pre-fabricated case), newsreels and stock footage. He doesn’t, however, actually interview anyone himself, but rather uses conjecture that furthers his point. My issue is that he has the data to support his conclusion, rather than arriving at the conclusion from the data. This can be foolhardy; FOXNews level dangerous, as they use the same method.

Using Obama’s own book, Dreams From My Father as a launch pad, the film posits that Obama’s real father was African-American communist poet / journalist Frank Marshall Davis (d. 1987). We “hear” a narrator that is supposed to be quoting Obama but sounds nothing like him (by Ed Law) describe the political life of Marshall and his attraction to communism, and attributes a large amount of the ‘50s “red scare” to Marshall’s group. We also hear how Obama’s maternal grandfather worked for the CIA (in the real Obama book, he says he was a furniture salesman), so when Mama Obama supposedly gets “in that way” by Marshall, a Kenyan college student funded by the CIA to study in Hawaii and fight communists agrees to marry Obama’s mother on the condition he gets some moolah and has no responsibility. Of course, Obama grows up and hangs out with Marshall, adopting his politics, according to this theory.

One aspect the film focuses in on at this point is the “Red” part, but ignores the “Scare” section. Driven by Republican paranoia (led by Senator Joe McCarthy and Richard Nixon), people were seeing anything it imagines as communist or socialist leanings as the destruction of the moral fabric of America (sound familiar?). Let me state here that I am neither a communist nor a socialist, though I believe in many social programs. In the same way black integration in schools and the introduction of rock and roll were vilified by right wing pundits, they put the fear of change (or even the possibility of a hint of it) as the destruction of life as we knew it. I still remember drills in school where we had to hide under our desks in case we in Brooklyn were bombed, or stand in the hallway for the possibility it was a nuclear attack. Robert Klein has a funny routine about his on his Child of the ‘50s album, but I digress…

One moment that made me laugh is Obama goes to Chicago, and is associated by locale to Saul Alinsky’s (d. 1972; misspelled in the film as “Alinksy”) book, Rules for Radicals, where he connects “change” with “socialism.” Of course, Obama’s theme for his first run at the presidency was Change, so obviously he must have meant socialism. Now look, when I was an undergrad, as well as being in the Hillel club, a Jewish organization for which I barely attended, I also joined the strongly Christian based Newman Club, because there were some very cute coeds in it (not that it did me any good). Because of my dual affiliation, though not based in any real devotion, the Jews for Jesus club hounded me to join. I understand that just because you are around something does not mean you are associated with that belief. The Blank Generation days were filled with substance abuse, but I nursed a bottle of Bud from 10 pm to 3 am. There were people who assumed I was on drugs because I was so thin, but again, that had nothing to do with reality [HERE]. Similarly, whether or not people such as Bill Ayres, Alinsky or Reverend Wright were around Obama, does not mean that he agrees with their philosophies. Or maybe it does. I don’t know Obama personally to say.

One of the points hammered home is Obama’s association with far left politicians, questionable business people, and “patrons.” Try and find someone in politics that is not associated with those who are using politicians for their own means (can you say Cheney and Halliburton?). Even Republican shill and icon (who was a joke at the time but lauded now) Ronnie Reagan was surrounded by those who were out to destroy democracy for their own vision of capitalism. But because it’s “capitalism” and not “socialism,” it must be for the good, right? Remember when the Reagan administration union busted and fired the airport workers (and then, ironically, had an airport named after him)? If you want to see how this all works, check out the Robert Redford film The Candidate (1972; trailer HERE).

This film is obviously flawed because it comes from a conclusion of paranoia and Republican wrongheadedness. Gilbert’s early films about music subjects were harmless and amusing. I found this to be less so, because of the level of fear mongering about Obama specifically and Democrats in general that make the points made here less than benign. If this had come out after the next presidential election when it had no bite, that would be fine, but I am not impressed by the timing (cashing in?) of this.

What amazes me (not in a good way) about this film is that everything they are claiming about Obama – bankrupting the country, taking away retirement funds, making the middle class disappear, etc. – has already been tried… by the Republicans since Ronnie, and especially under little Georgie W.

It’s kind of devious and almost subliminal how every time Davis is mentioned, it is emphasized not as “my father,” but “my real father.” Also, even more subtly, very often when there is an image of Obama, it is split-screened with Davis in a similar pose, as if to say, “see!?!?” No, I don’t think he looks like Davis nor Obama Sr. He looks like his mother, with a mixture of African-American features that could be either. For example, yes, he has eyes that are similar to Davis, but he also has lips that are similar to Obama Sr. But if you put his picture next to his mother, you can tell the family resemblance.

With the “immigrant” fear (Gilbert has them referred to as “illegals” here, something Obama would never do), there is a strong level of racism here. “Obama” even refers to himself as “the first Affirmative Action president.” Really, Joel? That shows your true colors (pun intended) more than anything I can add.

So, again, unlike the Harrison and Elvis predecessors, this film takes conjecture for fact (as opposed to fantasy), which makes it an opinion piece rather than a historical document. What makes it dangerous is that there are a host of people who believe this crap. Did you know that most people in the South who were polled said that Obama was to blame for the result of Katrina? FOXNews is out to dupe the world into thinking Right wing ideology is the only belief system, but ignorance is not bliss, it’s damaging.

 

There’s No Place Like Utopia
Written, produced and directed by Joel Gilbert
110 minutes, 2014
www.theresnoplacelikeutopia.com

In his latest film and slam-a at Obama, director Joel Gilbert takes a different route for once, and does a Michael Moore by making himself the central character of the piece. Well, perhaps a reverse of Moore, since he is a renowned Leftie, and Gilbert shows himself on the extreme Right.

Using the framework of Oz being an Utopia, Gilbert fashions the charlatan Wizard of Oz as Barak Obama, who promises us an impossible dream (i.e., philosophers say there can be no such place as Utopia, literally translated as “no place”).

The entire opening sequence, where Gilbert walks around the Hollywood and Vine area asking star impersonators “Why did Dorothy go to Oz?” is, well, a waste. Okay, we get the premise, so put your ego back in your pants, and get on with it, dude. You don’t like Obama, you envision him as the Wiz and “his” America as a Utopia much like Oz, we get it; now explain why. And what is this subtly equating Michelle with the Wicked Witch of the West by juxtapositioning her with an image of the 1961 television cartoon version of the Baum story, Tales of the Wizard of Oz?

One aspect that Gilbert seems blind to is that every leader, including Ronnie, promises a Utopia (“Tear down that wall!!”), not only for here, but for everywhere. Remember Georgie W.’s promise to bring “democracy” to Iraq? Why doesn’t Gilbert consider that a promise of Utopia? Oh, yeah, it’s not Obama.

What most Republicans – especially the poor ones – don’t seem to understand is that so many grew up within the Red Scare or influenced by those who were, that the very thought of a socialistic program designed to help even them seems un-American and anti-Capitalist. Well, here’s a shock for you: unabated capitalism is potentially more dangerous to the average person than either socialism or communism. Think monopolies and how unregulated corporations will do their best to strip you of everything you own or are. Some of the richest corporations (e.g., Walmart, Best Buy) complain about paying a decent wage so many workers are still forced on social programs, but put much of their money in off-shore accounts to keep from paying taxes. And those who pulled the lever for the Red rather than the Blue in central areas of this fine country are voting against their own self interests in their fear of America possibly helping those who need it. Yes, there will always be those who abuse the system, but the majority are desperate and cannot survive without some assistance. There is a strong current of xenophobia also present, as “Hispanics” = “illegals” who are supposedly paid off to vote for Obama. There is no positive message here about African-Americans nor Latinos.

In a move of complete hypocrisy, Gilbert goes to the Martin Luther King memorial, as if to say, see, there are good Black people who have ideals. But if you do your research, you will find that King was anti-capitalist, and was considered a socialist in his day. No mention of that, just a way to say “some of my best friends are…, so I’m not…”

When interviewing Chinese college student near the White House, he mocks the name Beijing Normal University. There are many Normal schools even in the United States. If he had done his homework rather than jumping on something he doesn’t understand, he would find out that a Normal school is where they instruct people how to be teachers. It’s common term around the world. I had the pleasure this past summer to teach a class in Media Theory (Gilbert would be the perfect example of a Monopoly of Power as he only shows one side of any argument) at Shaanxi Normal University, in Xi’an. Asking someone from China to say something publicly against the government is just plain ridiculous. China, Russia, and other countries that are “Socialist” or “Communist” play by their own rules, and asking someone to go against that endangers them, which is hardly fair to them to make your own point. For example, I would not ask a Palestinian to make a comment against Gaza on the air, or someone who is returning to Iran to comment on their leaders.

Gilbert gleefully finds people who live here who are willing to speak out against the governments of China and Russia, and even a dissident against Obama’s policies. You can do that in America. Comparing us to anyone else, even Canada, is a big mistake. Policy is another story. Obama is trying to get health care like Canada, and meanwhile the Right leaning Canadian government is trying to privatize their health care system like the Americans, so corporate health care cannot just strive, but can afford to PAC their politicians.

Gilbert comments how Mao let 50 million of his citizens die of starvation. Well, capitalist America did the same thing to the American Indians/First Nations population. Of course, he doesn’t mention this, making it seem like it happened in China and Russia because they were communist. No, they were power mad (ego), not ideological. And Gilbert talks about labor camps in those countries, but does he mention about how the capitalist US starting with Tricky Dickey industrialized the prison system to keep a cheap labor force, earning less than a dollar an hour? No. Any mention of the Georgie W. led depression of 2008 where people lost both jobs and homes? No. He shows the poverty of African-Americans in Detroit and South Chicago. Does he mention that majority of people who are on welfare and food stamps are actually white people below the Mason-Dixon? And that many people who work for some of the richest companies of the world need to be on sustenance to survive because their low wages are not enough, and this is pure capitalism? No. He only interviews (or is interviewed by) people who are Tea Party leaners, with no comment from anyone who might disagree with him. Did I mention Monopolies of Power?

Gilbert takes us to the slums of Detroit, which one pundit here calls “the perfect Democrat city.” While interviewing a resident, the interviewee comments that it was a vibrant area until the factories closed down. Gilbert fails to mention that part of the reason they closed down was because unregulated capitalism (aka free capitalism) sent the factories overseas to find cheaper labor, giving a larger profit to the rich and taking the neighborhood away from the working class. Even so, did you know that if you earn more than $20,000 a year, in the rest of the world you are part of the 1%? Scary. Gilbert does not mention that.

Here it is in a nutshell that I have been aware of since I was a teen: capitalism, socialism and communism all have one aspect in common, and that is there is no such thing as a perfect system, and the larger the population, the more this is true.

Meanwhile, while Gilbert is talking about how “Socialistic” Obama is out to destroy America, the stock market is better than ever and continually breaking records, unemployment is way down, people have health care, and the country is better off than it even was for Clinton. Damn that America-destroying Obama for getting us out of the hole the Republicans put us into! He’s not a capitalist? Explain the “don’t touch Monsanto” rulings, dude.

Towards the end of the film, one ex-business owner from Detroit says the reason for the problems there is due to the EPA changing the regulations so “what was legal became illegal.” Excuse me, but lowering emissions was the right way to go. Have you ever been to New Delhi? Beijing? You can’t see more than a few years ahead because, in part, of poor emissions standards. I don’t need to see my air, thank you. And some Russian émigré claims that socialists are less productive than capitalists, while images of the Obamas on the cover of magazines and golfing are splayed. Now remind me again of how many days Barak took vacation vs. his predecessor? Who’s not productive again?

At a visit at a Newark public city council meeting, it is posited that if you have a dissenting voice, you are silenced. The film makes it seem like this is an Obama-ism. Actually, Obama takes questions from any- and everyone. To interview George W., you had to be invited, and he only let in those who agreed with him. As for Newark, well, it’s Newark. Talk to Gov. Christie about that, if you can. Also, I love that they talk about Obama’s “voting fraud” by getting people registered to vote. Georgie Bush stole an election by rigging it and denying many voters at the polls, and Obama is wrong for getting people to the polls. Unbelievable.

The second biggest problem with this film (the first being its misguided message, of course), and this would be true no matter what Gilbert’s leaning, is that as much as he’s trying to be a response to Michael Moore, he just can’t cut it. He does not have the – er – large personality of Moore, nor the balls to stand up to those who disagree with him, something present in all Moore’s releases. With the exception of going to the Ayres house and leaving a DVD by the door when no one answers the bell, and giving Michelle’s mom a copy at well at her modest home in Chicago (we never actually see her), Gilbert mostly gravitates towards those who agree with his rhetoric. This is by no means fair and balanced.

One impressive thing Gilbert has done was to find a woman who famously enthused about Obama on a newscast at an Obama speech, and asked her opinions now, which have obviously changed (why else would she be here?).

My big question that one that no one can truthfully answer because it is impossible: “Do you honestly believe it would have been better under Romney?!” My answer is hell, no.

I’m hoping he has this out of his system now, and will go back to music mockumentaries. To use Joel Gilbert’s own analogy, this film was a Toto.

 

 

Bonus video:

 

CD Review: Gallagher: I Am Who I Pretend to Be

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2014
Images from the Internet

 

Gallagher: I Am Who I Pretend to Be
Produced by David Drozen
Uproar Entertainment
70 minutes, 2014
www.uproarcomedycd.com   
www.mvdvisual.com

In case you are wondering who (Leo) Gallagher is, I don’t think it would be an understatement to say he was as influential in the stand-up world as Richard Pryor, Eddie Murphy, and Robin Williams. Arguably, you could even add George Carlin. Was he as funny as them? Well, that’s a matter of the style of humor you enjoy, but it was Gallagher that almost single-handedly brought the stand-up series of specials to cable television, 14 shows over the years that had millions of viewers each. Some say the existence of the Comedy Channel in some part was created due to Gallagher’s on-air popularity.

I have to say, I found him extremely funny. I viewed probably about 5 of those specials, and saw him a number of times on the likes of Johnny Carson’s The Tonight Show. He was outrageous without being overly shocking (profanity is in his cable shows, but not his mainstream presentations). He had a unique style, using his own creative props that were inventive on the level of engineering, and unlike some other prop comics like, say, Carrot Top, Gallagher was not manic (though he screamed a lot) and was actually enjoyable.

From North Carolina, he had a bit of a twang and a unique way of phrasing things, often using some colloquialisms, such as saying “them people.” Considering how much of the use of language a key part of his act is, I’m not sure if this was an in-bred way of patter, or was part of his stage persona. I don’t ever remember seeing him talk off the stage.

The reason I use past tense in this piece is because this show is part of Gallagher’s retirement tour. After serious health issues, he has decided to professionally call it quits.

When the CD starts, honestly, it doesn’t sound like him. He has a particular way to talking and it takes a while before I can “recognize” his voice. But that’s okay. I also wondered about a vocal-only recording, because he usually is quite visual, including using a sledge hammer on a watermelon (yeah, that’s the guy). That is probably why he has all these television shows and only one other vocal recording from the beginning of his career.

One of the things that appeals to me about Gallagher is the way he has a slight twisted way of looking at life that seems to make sense until you really think about it. For example, he often posits (including here) that they ought to give deaf people houses by the airport. Or that that they should make Jehovah Witnesses mail carriers because they’re going to come to your door anyway (not included). Illogical logic?

In the hour-plus of this CD, I did notice something that I had not realized before, but has been a consistent theme of his act, and that is he promotes cultural gender-normative stereotypes. Sort of a “You know what you guys do?” “You know what you ‘girls’ do?” Then comes out the controlling image of women who love to go shopping, and men who are slackers around the house who don’t do much tidying, and how both drive each other crazy. He’s been focusing in on these for thirty years now, and honestly, the timer is up on it. It’s a dated notion that is okay to acknowledge that times have changed. More men work around the house, and more women are in the workforce. That being said, I thought the line about a version of Playboy for married men that has the same centerfold model in each issue was pretty funny. Okay, I’m done with that cultural rant.

Gallagher has always been a bit of an American jingoist, but tends not to be overly obnoxious about it, like Ted Nugent, for example. He loves “Amurrka” (as he pronounces it) and hates to see foreign interests changing the landscape, as it were. Is his material racist? Well, there is definitely singling out some cultures, such as Mexicanos, but it’s not nasty any more than his pointing out gender norms. I did cringe, however, the one time when he used the expression “that is so gay.”

Once you get beyond those, and he finally gets fired up, as he does here, his two strong suits come out. The first one is pointing out the sheer ridiculousness of our culture, and how we look at things. He would make a powerful General Semanticist. It could be how we may be viewed by aliens (stating how from space telescopes we have to look up to the stars find any kind of intelligence, rather than back at Earth), weirdness about how people view the Bible, and how crazy is our justice system. His analysis using a spork (spoon-fork a la KFC) as a springboard is quite smart.

Then his second strong point comes out that is my favorite, which is Carlin-esque in how he points out the randomness of grammar and language. In this particular case he looks at the “enemy” of the English language, the French, and how their mother tongue has influenced us in nearly a poetic rant.

The bonus track, “Words of Wisdom,” is a bit I’ve heard before, and in fact there is a smattering of repeating here and there (this is true of many comics, including Robin Williams, with his Mr. Happy bits).

Yeah, he’s still sharp and witty, and considering his heart situation, he’s definitely still Gallagher. That’s something that’s worth a listen.

 

Bonus video from the ‘80s (unrelated to this CD):

 

Hoyt Axton: Half Folkie, Half Hippie, Half Okie (Guest Article)

For the more than a decade that I’ve known Brian Dickson, his fandom of the multi-talented Hoyt Axton has been evident. If Hoyt had been younger, it’s possible he could have been called country punk, along with the likes of Rank & File, but he was more of the generation of Townes van Zandt and the hyper-realistic country that was both harsh and beautiful. This, in part, is why I asked Brian to write something about Hoyt, since little is known about him these days, and he deserves the credit he can get. Besides, feeding a musical obsession is something I will usually stand behind, especially if the subject is as worthwhile as Axton. – Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2014

By Brian Dickson, 2014
Images from the Internet

I was pleasantly surprised when Robert dropped me a line and asked if I would like to write a piece on Hoyt Axton for this blog, but I had to ask him: “Are you sure Axton fits the bill for ‘Rock n’ Roll Attitude with Integrity’?” Robert's reply: “Hoyt was as punk as Johnny Cash or Townes Van Zandt, as far as I’m concerned.” Which I believe is true in several ways. Hoyt enjoyed a long, colorful career that included not only music composition and performance, but acting, record production and commercial voice-over work. But part of my fascination with the man, I think, is that his musical approach always eluded definition. He could never be bracketed into one genre or another.

Hoyt Wayne Axton. If you don’t know the name, chances are you’d recognize him from films and TV. “Bonanza.“ Smoky (1966). The Black Stallion (1979). “WKRP in Cincinnati.” Heart Like A Wheel (1983). Gremlins (1984) [He played the dad who gave his son the Gremlin – RBF]. We’re No Angels (1989). A slew of others. But if you can’t place the face, chances are you know the voice. Extoller of the Big Mac, Pizza Hut, and Busch beer. And of course, writer and singer of some truly great songs.

Born in Duncan, Oklahoma, in 1938, and raised in Comanche; the eldest son of John T. Axton and Mae Boren (Mae, later known as ”The Queen Mother of Nashville,“ co-wrote “Heartbreak Hotel” for Elvis). He served a brief stint in the U.S. Navy after attending Oklahoma State University on a football scholarship. His career in music began in West Coast coffee houses and folk clubs in the early sixties.

I’ll admit I’m showing up at the party pretty late here. I was born in ’73; by that year Axton had recorded ten albums for six different labels. Nineteen sixty-nine saw the release of My Griffin Is Gone on Columbia Records, followed by two on Capitol Records in 1971 (Joy to the World, and the lesser known Country Anthem). In ’73 came Less Than the Song on A&M, the first of four albums on that label, which is widely recognized as Hoyt’s creative peak: Song in ’73, Life Machine (1974), Southbound (1975) and Fearless (1976).

But being an ‘80’s kid, I became aware of Hoyt not through his music, but by seeing him in movies - Gremlins, primarily - and on television, namely, “WKRP in Cincinnati” and “Diff’rent Strokes.” In tenth grade it became a daily routine after walking home from school to catch a re-run of “WKRP” at 4. I fondly recall that classic first-season episode entitled, “I Do, I Do…For Now.” Hoyt, playing the imposing “T.J. Watson from Rockthrow, West Virginia,” arrives at the station to reclaim his childhood sweetheart, Jennifer Marlowe (Loni Anderson), who hastily pretends to be married to Dr. Johnny Fever (Howard Hesseman). Hoyt sings “Jealous Man” to a captive and terrified Fever in the station lobby (“You got the knife, I got the gun / c’mon boy, we’re gonna have a little fun…”). He proceeds to tell a story about his dear ol’ pappy. And how the woman his pappy loved – his mama – was already married to another man by the name of Jenkins. But Jenkins didn’t wanna give his mama up. So his pappy - bein’ the man he was - went down to see Jenkins…and called him out. “Called him out?” Fever replies nervously. That’s right, T.J. says – called…him…out. Fever (hope diminishing): “To talk.” Hoyt: “Uh-huh. Then he shot him.” This is one of my favorite scenes in all of TV history.

It wasn’t until a road trip in the first car I ever owned – an ‘85 Plymouth Turismo, paid $650 cash – that I found Hoyt on a purely musical level. This was a solo run from Ottawa to my home province of New Brunswick, Canada, in 1999. I had been browsing CDs in a music store a couple of days prior, and stumbled across the two-disc A&M Years package, which contains Axton’s four albums released on A&M Records from 1973-76. I remember thinking, “Well, looky here. Hoyt Axton.” On that trip I cranked up songs on that old Duster’s player like “Peacemaker,” “Life Machine,” “Idol of the Band,” “Geronimo’s Cadillac,” and “No No Song.” I discovered Hoyt’s music with road tunes from Southbound and Fearless on the highway outside of Montreal that morning, which made me realize what an underrated figure the man was and is, to this day.

Hoyt is generally considered a country artist, particularly from his musical bend in the mid-to-late ‘70s and on. But let’s go back to the beginning: 1963. Consider his first folk recordings on Horizon Records: Greenback Dollar, Thunder’n Lightnin,’ Saturday’s Child. Bob Dylan broke down the door, and Axton moseyed through – not with the same lyrical prowess as Dylan, but with attitude, groove, and a voice like no other.

The following year saw Hoyt “explode”! Released by Vee-Jay in ’64, Hoyt Axton Explodes! is a mid-‘60s curio that might be loosely described as “garage folk-rock.” If Axton has a blues record, it would be Sings Bessie Smith (1965). My Griffin Is Gone (1969) is a lesser inclusion among the pantheon of classic albums of the period, but an atmospheric gem of that era, nonetheless. And Joy to the World is a rock album. A rock album with folky ballads making up half of each side, though. Folk n’ roll? Listen to the title track and “Never Been to Spain” (big hits for Three Dog Night). Regard others like “The Pusher” (big hit for Steppenwolf), “California Women,” or that classic party song, “Lightning Bar Blues.” Also a tune called “Captain America” from 1973. These are rock songs. His aforementioned albums on A&M from 1973-76 started with a somewhat experimental, progressive folk/blues oddity (Less Than the Song), but which somehow…wasn’t. The albums Life Machine, Southbound and Fearless were “country-rock,” but…weren’t. Hoyt’s other albums for MCA and the ones on his own Jeremiah label appeared to be country, but also quietly defied categorization. For the most part, his music encompassed folk, blues, rock ‘n’ roll and country simultaneously. Michael Curtis, co-writer of the Crosby, Stills & Nash hit “Southern Cross,” said of Axton: “Hoyt had his own way of writing. He didn't exactly break the rules of songwriting, but he would often ignore them. He taught me a lot.” [Quote from HERE]

Hoyt: I'm one of those fringe dudes -- Half folkie, half hippie, half Okie. My input has been very eclectic. I was always surrounded by all kinds of music as my family moved around the country: jazz, classical, gospel, whatever. The influences enter from a lot of directions. [Quote from HERE]

Hoyt died of heart failure in Victor, Montana, in October of 1999, at the age of 61. I never had the opportunity to meet him, or see him in concert. But from what I’ve read in recent years (and learned from members of my Facebook tribute group Fans of Hoyt [HERE] who actually knew him or met him), he was a genuinely nice fella. In a People magazine article published shortly after his death, his third wife, Donna Axton, said, “He used to throw twenty-dollar bills out the car window and say, 'That will make someone happy.’” Look at almost anything autographed by him and he will have written, “Joy to you, Hoyt.” “Joy” was his watchword.

I realize my observations here may be a bit biased because I am such a devotee. After unearthing The A&M Years on that trip down home in ‘99, I have since sought out every Axton album, and I am continually trying to catch his movie and television appearances; my research is ongoing. Hoyt’s daughter, April, is a member of Fans of Hoyt, and last year thanked me and the members of the group on his birthday for “keeping his spirit soaring” (it’s a pleasure, April!). But c’mon – have you ever met anyone who doesn’t like Axton’s music (if they’ve heard anything beyond “Boney Fingers” or “Della and the Dealer,” that is), or the likable characters he’s played in movies and on TV? As with Cash or TVZ, the old cliché applies: A man for all seasons. But what I also dig about him is this: Hoyt did his own thing. You could never button-hole the guy.

 

 

 

DVD Review: East End Babylon: The Story of the Cockney Rejects

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2014
Images from the Internet

 

East End Babylon: The Story of the Cockney Rejects

Produced and directed by Richard England
Cadiz Music / Custom House
101 minutes, 2013
www.eastendbabylon.co.uk
www.cockneyrejects.com
www.cadizmusic.co.uk                      
www.mvdvisual.com

The Cockney Rejects were not one of the British bands that excited me in the way that others did in those early days, as with the Adverts or even John Otway and Wild Willy Barrett. They were more of the football hooligan types like the Hammersmith Gorillas that were just a bit too idiosyncratic and locally topical for me. This film gives me the chance to explore what was going on about them, and see if I was missing out on anything.

One way to judge a “foreign language” film like this, whose focus is a band I don’t know anything about, is will it keep my attention. Early verdict is in, and yes, it did a bang-up job straight through. Oh sure, the very thick East Ham (London’s poor East End shipyards neighborhood) kept my ears peeled as it were, and there were the occasional parts I had to replay to figure out the hell they were talking about, but it was worth the watch.

Part of what makes this successful is the mixture of not only period live footage of the band and current interviews, but the splicing of newsreels from World War II while the neighborhood was devastated by German bombings and home movies of band members. What I especially appreciated is how a topic is introduced and then a clip of the band playing the song about it is shown.

This kind of British punk, which members of the Rejects claim they invented in a backyard shed, is different than, say, the Pistols, the Clash, and the Damned. It is more driven, being closer to what would become SoCal hardcore than just anarchy.  It’s beer – a lot of it – and football, rowdiness and history (more than politics), and totally East Ham working class loci perspectives.

As is described early on, the area was a breeding ground for bank robbers and the rolling of drunk sailors. A dangerous part of town where it was safer to know everybody than to not know anyone, even if you were just walking about, this is the breeding ground for their particular form of anger. They would right soon start a fight with you as buy you a pint or seven.

They are sort of like the Brit versions of the Tony Maneros that I was used to dealing with every day growing up in Bensonhurst. Oh, speaking of Otway (whose name briefly appears on a marquee in a film clip), he did a song about this sort, called “Headbutt.” But again, if you get on the good side, you had a better chance of not getting beaten up again. Their shows were, at times, outrageous and contentious.

As much as this film is about the band, it seems to be a history lesson of East Ham, from its longshoreman days through the closing of the docks in the 1970s (if I understood correctly, they blame it on the unions). As one of them posits, “There were only three ways out of the East End: football, boxing and rock’n’roll.” He apparently didn’t mention the fourth and fifth, which is prison or death, but I digress…   

This early chapter is also about the Greggus family in the middle of all that history. This is hardly surprising as it is produced by the guitarist, Micky Greggus. Not as much an ego trip, however, as you may imagine, it shows how they were part of the East End, and uses the East End to explain its effect on the family, rather than the other way around. It’s actually a good vision for the film, and it works.

The boxing part introduces Jeff Turner, the strapping singer of the band. He started out as a pugilist, and then helped co-found the Rejects. He brought his boxer moves to the stage, which he rightfully justifies as his stage style, much as other singers have their own, identifiable flair.

An aspect I also found interesting is how they conned their way into their first recording studio. You could call that punk, but I see it as year of being desperation-taught survival skills, even though they were around 15 years old at the time. With the help of Jimmy Pursey (Sham 69) in the studio as producer, they released a song, and used that to get their way into their first gig. Again, to me, this is more than just a punk story, but a sociological behavior that made that forlorn environment work for them. A little bit of luck, a smattering of chicanery and fast talk, and they’re at their first gig after recording at Polydor Records. Backtracking a bit, they even wrote their first songs after they found out they would be in the studio.

All this led to a signing with EMI (did I mention they were 15?) and a couple of hits that got them on Top of the Pops more than once. A drunken appearance, however, led to “phase two” of the band. Going full steam into the football realm (of West Ham, natch), the band’s music became more anthemic, raising them to a core leader of oi. This leads to epic fights, a gig in Manchester that is infamous, and a battle with Brit Nazi punks that is legendary, all of which is explained in detail, for which I’m grateful.  After that… aw, mate, stitch that, I’m not gonna give away the whole documentary. Besides, I’m on page three in this Word doc already.

Most documentaries I’ve seen recently regarding music has people talking with a stack of books and records behind them, as they yammer on.  Here, we see the Rejects in various places around the Ham, such as their mum’s house (she’s interviewed as well), along the Thames, in pubs, gymnasiums (boxing, remember?), and various places, keeping it fluid and moving. By not focusing only on the band, but on the times both past and, well, further past, as well as the present, the story doesn’t get claustrophobic. It’s always moving, always interesting. Perhaps it could have been a little shorter, but it still kept my attention. They are natural storytellers.

Which brings me to the one thing I would like to change: there are various language captions available, but the one I needed, English, was sorely lacking. The accents are so thick, sometimes things got lost in the translation (e.g., one I knew was claret = blood).  An English caption choice would have been welcome. But, hey, if that’s the worst I could find, that’s pretty damn good.

The extras are definitely worth the view: eleven shorts lasting between ten and fifteen minutes apiece that vary greatly from a live acoustic set, Jeff giving an inspirational talk, some of their recordings, their love for reggae, and stuff that didn’t make it into the film (enjoyable, but rightfully so).  There is also a very nice glossy multi-page booklet with photos and some text.

The most important thing this doc does is give you the opportunity to like these guys, both on a musical and personal level. Do yerseff a favor, mate, and give a peek.

 

 

Bonus video:

 

DVD Review: I’m Now: The Story of Mudhoney

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2014
Images from the Internet

I’m Now: The Story of Mudhoney

Produced and directed by Ryan Short & Adam Paase
King of Hearts Productions
102 minutes, 2012
www.mudhoneymove.com
www.mudhoneyonline.com    
www.mvdvisual.com

Let me say it now, and get the shock over with. Grunge. There. Grunge. Oops, again.

Are Mudhoney grunge? Well, depends on who you talk to, of course. For example, Mudhoney vocalist Mark Arm was in a Seattle band in the late ‘80s called Green River (still have my copy, with the insert and press release, I may add). They arguably started the sound. In Seattle, anyway. Like punk in New York, everyone was denying they were punk left and right during the time, but love to be included in that scene now.

In my opinion, grunge is actually older than that, dating back to a bunch of SST-era bands. I mean, Dinosaur Jr. was grunge, along with a bunch of other longhair groups that tend to get clustered into the hardcore genus due to the time and the label, but those longhair bands were into experimental and heavy guitar sounds that many previous punk groups had turned its back upon.

No, grunge did not begin and end with neither Seattle nor Nirvana. I still get bugged when I hear that Nevermind caused the “year that punk broke.” I like the band, but they were not punk, any more than the Beatles were rock’n’roll on Sgt. Pepper’s. It was something else. But before Nirvana, who absorbed so much of the Seattle energy and press, followed by Pearl Jam, there was and is Mudhoney. This is not fair.

I don’t know if it’s accurate to say there would be no Nirvana (the movement, not just the band) if Mudhoney weren’t who and what they were, but they were a definite force that shaped and honed for what Seattle would become known.

This documentary tells their story with the full participation of all members of the band, past and present, which is hardly surprising since they produced the thing. But this is not just a fluff, vanity piece. There is actually some depth to the thing. Sure, with the rare exception about a brief mention about drug abuse, they seem to just get along like fleas on a dog, the doc does show some of their downs and bad choices, as well as how they have lucked out on more than one occasion.

Perhaps it is because they were the ones who made the thing that they were able to get some heavy hitters to talk about the group, such as (in part) Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore (Sonic Youth), Kim Thayil (fellow grungites Soundgarden), Tad Doyle (TAD), and Stone Gossard and Jeff Ament (Pearl Jam; Eddie Vedder only appears in a live clip of an MC5 cover of “Kick Out the Jams”). No one from the Foo Fighters, however, I noticed. Is this a case of what is not said is saying something? There is also a clip of Nirvana, and there is a definite slam against Courtney Love’s causing them to get kicked off Reprise, but none of the women-led Seattle bands are represented. In fact, the only adult females you see are Kim Gordon and Megan Jasper, of the Sub Pop label.

As much as this is Mudhoney’s history, it is also, in part, a story of their label, Sub Pop. The label’s creators, Bruce Pavitt and Jonathan Peneman, are also heard from here, I should add. Sub Pop, whose first single-band release was by Green River, came close to folding before Mudhoney took them on the road to some success. Of course, Nirvana helped, but it was Mudhoney that put them on the map. There were other important Sub Pop releases, such as by Babes in Toyland and Elliot Smith, but the focus here is of course and rightfully so on Mudhoney.

There is a bit of unspoken irony in the story of Sub Pop in that many bands they introduced didn’t fit into their Indie World (Mary Lou Lord reference there), and went on to major labels – including Mudhoney – and had a hard time reconciling their indie independence with the big boys’ “formulas for success.” With the knighthood of Nirvana, Sub Pop, too, joined with Warner Music Group, where they were hard pressed by the new management.

The documentary presents the present and past members of Mudhoney as engaging, relaxed, independent in band direction (showing chutzpah to the big studios by doing it on their own and pocketing large sums of recording funds), and being relatively sober of mind if not body (there is an awful lot of booze consumption shown).

But hey, this is their party and they can present any frontage they want, and this one is quite a fun and funny face. Even as a band I don’t follow, the way Mudhoney are represented here shows quite a bit of honesty, including calling some of their own albums as not up to snuff, and blaming mostly themselves (and Courtney) for their occasionally sloppy work; they also justly take credit for their rightful place in grungeworld.

Mixed in with the band and guests interviews, there are also film clips from third-party sources such as old b-films (including the Russ Meyer one from which the band takes its name), live performances and interviews (MTV, for example). The film covers much from the beginning, through their rise, signing with the majors, a slump leaving the majors, and re-signing with Sub Pop (where Mark Arm now works in the distribution area), then back to touring when they want(/need).

The two extras are a music video for the song “I’m Now,” and a 13-minute short called “Fresh Socks,” which features behind-the-scene clips of interviews, travelogue, backstage and onstage antics from a recent tour in Europe, Japan and Brazil. One stop in Belgium is especially telling, as they mock a stoic and distracting Kurt-wannabe in the audience.

If you’re into the whole Seattle scene – well, the male end of it as there is no mention of the riot grrrl aspect at all – I can wholeheartedly recommend this. If you’re more like me and are casual at best, it’s still a well-crafted document/press release that is enjoyable all the way through.

DVD Review: Clockwork Orange County: The Rise of West Coast Punk Rock

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2014
Images from the Internet

Clockwork Orange County: The Rise of West Coast Punk Rock

Directed by Jonathan W.C. Mills
Endurance Pictures
92 minutes, 2011       
www.fearthismovie.com        
www.mvdvisual.com

In Costa Mesa, located in Orange County, California, the hardcore scene could be narrowed down to a single club, the Cuckoo’s Nest. Opened in 1979, from this very wellhead sprung the movement that some might say transformed punk into hardcore, setting in motion the third wave of punk rock.

Of course, every scene can claim that, from Washington, D.C.’s 9:30 Club, to the Masque in L.A., to A7 in New York, and so on. But there is no doubt that the Cuckoo’s Nest was a touchstone moment in the movement.

What is most impressive is the heavy hitters willing to talk to the camera (in 2011) here, including various members of bands like Social Distortion, T.S.O.L., the Circle Jerks, the Adolescents, Agent Orange, Black Flag (including Rollins, of course), Dead Kennedys (Biafra, of course), and so many of the others that took a scene and brought it to that whole new level which became a standard / uniform for the rest of the world, and in many ways is still in play now, over 30 years later.

Rather than just yammering heads, there is a wise choice in showing both music and talking clips from the period, mixed in with the “present” (again, 2011), so you can see how the musicians and fans have changed over the years. The music clips, all shot at the Nest, are not complete, but many of them are lengthy enough to actually get a feel for the appeal.

Each topic / chapter is introduced with a title card, and is discussed pretty well in detail, again mixing the past and present. It makes for an interesting oral history, most of which are of memory, but this lets the memory mix with the moment.

Some of the subjects discussed include:

·         the both figurative and literal fights with the rednecks in the C&W bar next door, who were constantly antagonizing and threatening the punks (naturally you don’t hear their side, which I think could be amusing).

·         the love / hate relationship between the bands / fans and the club’s owner, Jerry Roach, who Rollins calls “a tightwad son of a bitch.”

·         how important the parking lot scene outside the club was to the denizens of the Nest

·         when Pat Brown, one of the regular fans, allegedly tried to kill a cop by dragging him in his car (resulting in three shots by said cop hitting his car as he drove away; this film is dedicated to him)

·         and even how (possibly) Jim Decker, the lead singer of the Crowd, started Slam Dancing as a trend.

[Side note: the first time I ever saw slam dancing was by Harley Flanagan when he was the drummer for the Stimulators, who opened for Sousxie & the Banshees at Irving Plaza around 1982.]

The topic of slamming brings up the subject of excess violence that followed as part of the natural order. Joe Escalante of the Vandals refers to the aggression of the pit and the audience as the bands merely being “the soundtrack to beating the crap out of each other.” I often felt like many people at hardcore shows are not there to hear the music, but to strike out at anyone they can through fists and kicks in the pit. At the Nest, this resulted in the choking off of the punks via legislation and harassment (1000 tickets in 3 days) resulting in the closing of the Cuckoo’s Nest more than anything else (as announced on their local television by a very young Connie Chung).

The thing is, just about every hardcore scene on the West side of the country (not just OC) seemed to have followed the exact same pattern, if not timeline. It starts with some kids who liked bands like the Ramones and Sex Pistols, and they find a dive to drive it. The kids start forming their own bands and put some originality into it, only to get harassed by law enforcement (remember, right-wing Ronnie’s the Prez in 1980 and the “moral majority” nuts are starting to show their teeth). The violence perpetrated on the kids starts to show up in the scene when the jocks who used to beat them up for being punks find that by being punks themselves, they can join that mosh pit and continue to beat on the brats. The violence level increases by within and without, the media starts paying attention, this turns the fans away, and the source - in this case the Cuckoo’s Nest - closes down and effectively turns the tide by abating the access.

Another aspect of this film that is interesting is when they don’t just get stuck in the past and take it to the modern punk bands that were influenced by that scene, such as the Diffs and Death Punch. The original bands seem split on how their legacy has been picked up, whether that’s good or bad, and whether the modern punks are, well, really punk rock.

The only extra is the trailer and chapter selection.

Is this a good film? Well, yeah. They’ve taken what could have been a boring talking head film and made it interesting by grouping topics together, and mashing up historical film documents, including live performances, interviews, and newscasts, and also throwing in some of the newer area bands. It keeps the pace moving and the interest high. And if you’re like me, and you have the music of all those bands (didn’t see many of the West Coast bands live), it’s great to see the then-now differential.

Plus, it’s always great to hear the Circle Jerks’ Keith Morris’ strange and enjoyable vocal patter, Henry Rollins’ near poetic talking style, and Jello Biafra’s sibilant “s” and humor, for example.