The Life and Times of a Disappointed Idealist

If you have the access to the new HBO documentary on George Carlin, do yourself a favor and spend the four (4) hours to soak it in. It's worth it for a host of reasons:

- Most obviously, for the laughs. There are hundreds of jokes in there. Real belly laughs. Ones I'd seen many times, plus loads more I hadn't. 

- Then, for the sardonic truths. Head-shaking cynical acknowledgments about the shortcomings of humankind, civilization, and especially organized religion. Powerfully relevant right now.

- The appreciation for a 45-year career that saw a man simultaneously evolving into a new version of himself and yet unabashedly (save for Carlin v1.0) dedicated to the consistent theme of being allegiant to his truest self.

- The story. His life, the travails and true loves, his huge successes and pointed failures, his family saga, and his rocket ride through drugs, alcoholism, sobriety, and health challenges. 

He wouldn't want you to take a lesson, but he would want you to be entertained. And I was.

[This video has language not suited for high volumes at many of your in-person workplaces]

Add 2 More to the List

You all recall the music documentary quest I embarked upon last year in the nadir of lockdown. I need to go back and examine where I finished. Well, not finished, as it's a living endeavor. Where I stand, rather.

The list of rockumentaries was long but distinguished. So last night I was in a solitary state of Empty-Nester Lester and decided to check back into the world of music+film. And despite there being many entries on the original list that I have yet to take in, check this out: there are a pair of new additions to the mix. To quote Rock Master Scott and the Dynamic Three, here's something fresh! 

First, I watched a film currently on Netflix called Count Me In. It's a piece on drummers and drumming through the years. Exclusively as told by rock drummers themselves. There's no trailer I can find, oddly (unless you click the link above and log into Netflix), so this synopsis will have to do:

Count Me In is an exhilarating celebration of the art of rock drumming, featuring some of the best drummers ever to have graced the drumkit. From Roger Taylor (Queen), Chad Smith (Red Hot Chili Peppers), Stewart Copeland (The Police), Cindy Blackman (Santana, Lenny Kravitz), Keith Moon (The Who), Nick Mason (Pink Floyd) and John Bonham (Led Zeppelin), we are taken on a uplifting journey through some of the most iconic music ever created, focusing on the women and men with the sticks, their passions, culture and awe-inspiring energy.

There are way more interviewed drummers than what's listed above, and tons of clips through the years. Why they wouldn't make more noise about the fact that the Human Drum Machine Topper Headon of The Clash offers his thoughts therein is just crazy...

Second, I watched a film currently on Amazon Prime called Under the Volcano. It's about the music studio George Martin (the George Martin) created on the island of Montserrat in the late 1970's. The lineup of artists who recorded there in the waning time before natural disasters struck was . . . well . . . long but distinguished. Excellent old footage and new interviews. It's the second music documentary I've watched about a particular recording studio, and the second one done well.

I'll continue to plow through the extensive catalog of the music docs that caught my eye. Stay tuned.

If any of you have watched these or any other amidst the genre, chime in with recommendations or reviews. I am loath even to think about the notion of another lockdown at this point, but after the wedding we were slated to attend in New Orleans right after JazzFest weekend -- an event that had stayed the course even after the Fest was cancelled a couple of weeks ago -- just got nixed, there's a tad more angst and dread in the air.

I guess that calls for a punk rock documentary next.

Coming Soon to a Streaming Device Near You

More documentaries on the horizon for your viewing pleasure. Sport, music, literature. Something for just about everyone.

And, because some people didn't bring a trailer, as it were, there's just a pic and a summary.

 “Summer Of Soul (Or, When The Revolution Could Not Be Televised)”

In 1969, during the same summer as Woodstock, a different music festival took place 100 miles away. More than 300,000 people attended the summer concert series known as the Harlem Cultural Festival. It was filmed, but after that summer, the footage sat in a basement for 50 years. It has never been seen – until now. Summer Of Soul incorporates interviews with performances by B.B. King, Stevie Wonder, Mahalia Jackson and Mavis Staples, Hugh Masekela, Mongo Santamaria, Nina Simone, and Sly and the Family Stone, among many others.

Enjoy.  And review them here.

Music Documentary Project: Early June Update

I've taken my foot off the gas a bit lately, similar to how G:TB was a well-oiled, postcounting machine in the early days of pandemic quarantining and has recently let up. If you can go outside and live, do so.

I also watched some non-music-documentary television.  It can get a tad monotonous to go from music doc to music doc, even if you alternate genres, styles, and approaches as I have tried to do. And so, I pivoted to:

The Last Dance - (Yes, another documentary. So what, I like 'em!) I watched every moment of the MJ saga.  Compelling as all get-out. He is who we thought he was, but moreso. More amazing, more complete as a player. more of a jackass as a teammate or competitor. To me, the most gripping moments were (a) those that demonstrated that he, as any sane person would, hates the 100%-all-the-time fan-clamor and hides out in a hotel room or his house; and (b) the moment he was presented with the suggestion that in order to be the best player/champion he had had to sacrifice being a "good guy," and that thought brought tears, a hasty explanation, and his demanding a break in the recording. It's better when Superman's a human after all.

Letterkenny - I binge-watched several seasons of this preposterous Canadian show (available on on Hulu,annoyingly). Hilarious and addictive, if ultimately a bit redundant. The scene where the guys are playing catch and Squirrelly Dan uncomfortably introduces the subject of his lady friend and her interest in the "butts-stuff" had me laughing heartily. A hard yes.

Seaver - I stumbled upon a one-hour Tom Seaver documentary on the MLB network. I'm an obvious sucker for the content, but there was plenty new to me, especially the unfortunate epilogue of Alzheimer's and his retreat from public life last year. Tom Terrific was the best Met there was, despite the franchise booting it majorly several times over.

Anyway, I have also made time for more music absorption.  Back to the quest...

ReMastered: Devil at the Crossroads (2019) -- This was a tidy, little Netflix piece on the pioneer bluesman Robert Johnson and the generations of intrigue that have surrounded his eerily quick rise from kid with a guitar he couldn't much play to blues god. The story is well-presented and frankly sells itself -- selling one's soul to the Devil for talent.  And then there's his death at age 27. And the fact that (until last month) there were only two photographs ever taken of the man. When I lived across the way from Dave in the fraternity house, he bought a box set of Robert Johnson. I didn't know who the dude was. Turns out many a blues riff and/or style of playing -- which begat many a rock and roll riff and style of playing -- is attributed to one man. At 48 minutes, check it out.

Hip-Hop Evolution (Season 1) -- This is my shit. Z and I have served and rallied here before with old school and older school, but Season 1 of HHE is the jack from way back. Loved it. Planning to continue to dig in on the series and learn lots more along the way.

History of the Eagles (2013) -- Far, far away on the music spectrum from Kurtis Blow and DJ Run, you have Don Henley and Glenn Frey. I like the Eagles nearly as much as the next guy, and there's much to learn and enjoy here. It ultimately devolves into a soap opera, mostly between Frey and Don Felder. And here I thought Don Henley was the douche. But there are cool tidbits like footage of Henley and Frey as up-and-comers in the backing band for Linda Ronstadt, and anything Joe Walsh does is fairly fascinating. Enjoyed it.

The Beastie Boys Story (2020) -- I knew this would be great. I read several unflattering reviews (Pitchfork, AV Club) that called it "no fun." I still knew it would be great. I hadn't heard any of my friends raving about it. I still knew it'd be great.  And... it's great. I feel like I'm the perfect age to be a Beastie Boys fan. When LTI hit, I was a high-school juvenile delinquent Class Clown. As we've written here ad nauseum, when Paul's Boutique launched to crickets, were were jumping around the room heralding what must be a worldwide hit -- college is the perfect time to be exposed to experimentally dope new shit. CYH was a tiny bit more grown up, and we were nearly graduating (well, rob and Dave were). The "Sabotage" video broke and we were early 20's goofballs with jobs. By the time the three bad brothers were starting getting real respect (especially for albums gone by), we were older and commanding more respect than we had a right to. Still clowns, like the B-Boys, of course.  This doc has it all, despite shlocky reviewer's cranky demands for surprises and mayhem. MCA is missed majorly and given a highly fitting tribute.  It's great. Check it out.

The Van Halen Story: The Early Years (2003) -- This low-budget, straight to video obscurity piece was just entertaining enough. Spoiler alert: they paid for the rights to zero VH songs, so you won't hear any. Made me go straight to Spotify after and call up my faves. Also, they only rehash interviews with the band, nothing new -- but lots I hadn't seen. They do get lots of stories from roadies, security, and friends from coming up.  Which is at times better than the sanitized version of wild tales you get from aged rockers. (Eagles, for example.)  "Ed" and "Al" haaaaate "Roth." That's for damn sure. Almost as much as they hate "Dancing in the Street." This one entertained mildly for what it was.

We Jam Econo: The Story Of The Minutemen (2005) -- I loved this one. A long while back, a friend introduced me to The Minutemen. My first reaction was a recoil. Over decades, as I have dug in squarely on punk rock, I have come to love this kind of avant-garde punk. The Minutemen were not hardcore, they were honestly a step-and-a-half from Random Idiots, they were punk with a conscience, and they were beautiful. The documentary, exactly like the band, is pretty lo-fi. And it's solid. The lament of losing D. Boon so many years ago hits home, almost against all likelihood. This ain't no picnic, indeed.

loudQUIETloud: A Film About the Pixies (2006) -- I was late to the game on the Pixies. My first wife was a fan during their 1987-1991 existence, and I learned to love their stuff through her influence soon thereafter. Too late, of course.  But they then regrouped in 2004, and we saw them at Constitution Hall in DC. Hell yes. This is a weird doc -- it isn't a retrospective, it's a behind-the-scenes look at the 2004/5 tour I mentioned. They'd reunited after 13 years, and interactions are awkward and yet uncontroversial, and there are excellent clips of songs from these shows but otherwise just some backstage banter that does not enthrall. Plus Black Francis with his shirt off.

It was very interesting to watch the Pixies one after The Minutemen. D. Boon and Mike Watt met with they were 13, and they were best friends until the end. They'd fight some, but like brothers. Loved one another. The four people in the Pixies met via a classified ad. They weren't friends and still aren't. They don't hate each other, but they were a great band the same way a successful small business often operates -- it was a job. They regrouped for money, clearly. It's almost deflating to fans, but hell, it's always about the music more than anything, and the music was and is exceptional to many of us.


I'll keep watching and conveying the highlights.  18 down thus far.  Suggestions and feedback welcomed.

Music Documentary Project: Late April Update

. . . because you all cared.

Here's the latest in my COVID-caused quest to watch 100 music documentaries. Or at least "a bunch," to clarify the metric.

Five more down. Not that many, but none of them were abbreviated, and in fact, one was a big 'un.  I'm still loving the genre, although anything more than two music docs in a row starts to get a wee bit monotonous, so either turning off the tube or switching to something sports or idiocy-related is a help.  But there's so much good stuff out there, and that keeps me tuning in.

Sound City (2013)

Dave Grohl's ode to the beloved, trashed music studio in Van Nuys, CA. Perfect to watch right after the Rumours doc, since Mick Fleetwood met Lindsey Buckingham right there in the studio, and the rest was history -- including the recording of the ensuing Fleetwood Mac album, which put Sound City on the map. Stories and interviewees aligned nicely. Beyond that small component, a great visual history of a recording studio through the years. Nevermind, Pinkerton, Neil Young, tons of Petty, and many more. Fun fact: Rick Springfield's guitar work wasn't up to snuff, so Pat Benatar's axe man Neil Giraldo sat in and helped make "Jessie's Girl" famous.

Gigantic: A Tale of Two Johns (2003)

Rob and I traveled to Silver Spring, Maryland exactly one time together. In 2003, we went to the AFI Silver Theater to take in this documentary. He and I have each seen They Might Be Giants live a number of times -- well into the double-digits, and many of times we saw them together. Terrific, fun, band. The stories in this one are amusing but not shocking, which, if you know the band, is... not shocking. The production herein is slightly lower-grade than some of the other documentaries I've seen, which is just perfect for two guys who used to perform with a guitar, accordion, keys, stick, vocals, a drum track, and no other performers onstage. But the Johns are great humans and great performers, there are goofy segments interspersed, and this was well worth another viewing after 17 years. Best scene was when the Johns talk about each other -- a rare getting of the chills in an otherwise quirky little piece. And Dial-a-Song was the coolest thing ever.

If I Leave Here Tomorrow (2018)

Gone with the Wind: The Remarkable Rise and Tragic Fall of Lynyrd Skynyrd (2015)

Yeah, that's right. I watched four and a half hours of content surrounding a band that -- for all appropriate purposes -- ceased to be four years and one month after the release of their first album. I first watched the shorter, more recent, and better-publicized doc; I'd seen parts of its 3-hour mammoth predecessor, so I got a hankering and took it down next. That's a whole mess o' Skynyrd.  Which was better? They're both solid, for sure. Last man standing Gary Rossington was only interviewed in If I Leave Here Tomorrow, which is both good and bad. I'll leave it at this -- for coming in at "just" 95 minutes, the shorter doc has some strange filler like interviewing people in bars who cover Skynyrd.

Unlike TR, I do love this band, and have since high school. Jam band folks prefer the Allmans, rock-song aficionados go the route of Lynyrd Skynyrd. The story intrigues, and while nobody is going to follow suit and watch these back-to-back like I did, it was worth doing. Different takes on the same events were interesting, and more is better when you dig a band. And Ronnie was a fucking tour de force. 

It Might Get Loud (2008)

For the unfamiliar, this was Jimmy Page, The Edge, and Jack White getting together to talk about guitars and guitaring, play some stuff, and have some fun.  Backstory content was included, and that might have been the best part. Three generations (or eras) of rock and roll are represented, three upbringings, three styles, and it's all good fun -- for the music geek. Folks external to that category might be slightly less enthralled. Random amusement: The Edge playing and singing the Ramones tune "Glad to See You Go" from his revisited high school locker room. Fun fact: Jimmy Page played on Shirley Bassey's Goldfinger theme song.

More soon to come! 

* * * * * * * * * * *

We reached 20 posts again this month. Fine work, team.

Putting Our Stamp, Totally Convincingly, On Unlimited New Things

(and creating new acronyms)

Music Documentary Project: The Origin Story

I've already had productive and fun conversations with you cats about my quest to watch way too many music documentaries this quarantine.  I'll keep you posted, and please keep the suggestions coming.

I somehow forgot to mention in the previous post why I got to compiling the list of the best-ever rockumentaries and set about watching them.

It's this. Arriving at AppleTV+ next Friday:

It's an interesting format that could potentially bleed into the contrived and talky, but hey, it's two of the three MC's and they're on the go.  (Abednego is missed very badly.) And it appears to be tons of old footage and stories.

This has to be worth my time and then some. 

And speaking of upcoming documentaries, one that needs no additional hyping from the likes of me starts tonight. Curious what the level of interest and commitment to watching among the gheorghies is.

Happy watching.

Move Over Dad, 'Cause I'm a Double Dipper

Tuesday night was a humdinger for music junkies like me.  I began the evening at the historic Naro theater in the Ghent neighborhood of Norfolk.  As I mentioned that day, they were part of the one-night-only theatrical release of the documentary on the Avett Brothers.

The film is good fun. Now, I can't recommend the film if:

• You like your music documentaries to have sex, drugs, violence, arrests, and general mayhem throughout the picture.  This film is the opposite of the "Behind the Music" on Mötley Crüe. Two musically inclined brothers whose feelings about each other are the diametric opposite of the Gallaghers.

• You want all concert footage.  There's a lot of studio footage, backstory clips, family time, and behind the scenes of the process. Good live stuff, but it's not Stop Making Sense.

• You don't like overly emotive bad banjo players.  These dudes emote heavy.  Seth Avett describes the band as guys who read their diary on stage.  Scott Avett says it's never crossed his mind that people might not want to hear his innermost feelings.  And he admits that's really stupid at times.  That's just who they are.  

Some cool stuff includes clips of them as a wanna-be grunge band in the early 90's; lively performances; closer looks at a couple of the other band members, including my friend's old co-worker at IBM Joe Kwon who's now the cellist; some emotional moments surrounding the health of bassist Bob's child; Deb from "Dexter"; and a cool segue from scratching out lyrics to them performing the song live.

Rob, check it out.  Rootsy, probably don't.

--THEN--

As soon as the credits rolled, my friend Jeff and I trucked it downtown to the Norva, where St. Paul and the Broken Bones had just taken the stage.  

A friend gave us VIP passes (her cousin Allen is the trumpet player), and we spent the night overlooking the band from immediate stage left. They were outstanding -- extremely enthusiastic performers and pure purveyors of soul. Lead singer Paul Janeway spared not an ounce of sweat, and his moves were... well, he had a lot of moves.  

I hadn't seen this Birmingham-based act before, but I'll see them again.  Based on their gratitude at the crowd going bonkers, I expect they'll come back to Norfolk.  At least I hope so.

Yes, the mic is lying on the floor

Check out the video.  Paul Janeway had crawled under the drum riser mid-song, and sang a verse from under it. Just silly.  Here's when he comes out...

Tons of fun.  Great night. Damnation, I enjoy music.

What to Watch/TiVo/DVR Tonight

There is a smorgasbord of sports on tonight, but I suggest that you music fans carve some time/hard drive space for the HBO documentary The Promise: The Making of Darkness on the Edge of Town. The documentary details the studio effort behind the making of this 1978 album which spawned classics like Darkness on the Edge of Town, Prove it All Night, The Promised Land and the epic Badlands.



Springsteen had released three albums at this point in his career, the last of which was the mammoth Born to Run, which skyrocketed him to worldwide fame. But after a year-long recording hiatus due to a lawsuit against an ex-manager, he was ready to get back to work. So we get to glimpse the life of a late 20's small-town guy who is struggling with an avalanche of fame, trying to stay connected to his blue-collar roots and, most importantly, trying to write some good tunes.

Early reviewers say that non-Springsteen fans may find the documentary a bit tedious, but I think you should watch it just to see the look the dude was rocking back in the day.