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Music Documentary

BIG BROTHER AND THE HOLDING COMPANY: NINE HUNDRED NIGHTS

(EAGLE VISION/EAGLE ROCK ENTERTAINMENT/MULTIPRISES/PIONEER ENTERTAINMENT (59 minutes; Unrated); 2004) A REVIEW FROM THE VAULTS

Before I get into specifics, just let me say… this is an absolutely awesome package! The main section is a very informative, nostalgic 2001 hour-long film, documenting the rise and fall of one of the seminal bands of the San Francisco psychedelic era; the extras include four complete (and obviously digitally remastered) live performances, a rare audio track (pre-Janis?) of “In the Hall of the Mountain King,” interview outtakes from the surviving members of the band and others (which add a lot of history and insight that, while not necessary to the story, are nice to hear), and a bunch of other archival oddities (photos, concert posters, etc.). Ironically, the full band name on the case is “Big Brother and the Holding Company with Janis Joplin,” an appellation that plays heavily into the history of the band. So, having (hopefully) piqued your interest, let’s get into those specifics.

BIG BROTHER AND THE HOLDING COMPANY (Sam Andrew; Peter Albin; Janis Joplin; Dave Getz; James Gurley) (uncredited photo)

The documentary includes a lot of music, a lot of archival material (including interviews), and a lot of reflections on the late ’60s emergence of Sam Andrew, Peter Albin, James Gurley, David Getz and Janis Joplin. The new interviews untangle the myth from the history, making for an intriguing look at a band and a society continually on the brink of collapse. Additional interviewees include music historian and Patti Smith Group guitarist Lenny Kaye and psychedelic gadfly and post-Joplin Big Brother singer/producer Nick Gravenites (Nick also spent time in the Paul Butterfield Blues Band and Electric Flag, among others). Much is made of the Monterey Pop Festival and its backers, and their reasons for asking Big Brother to play. Everyone knows that the festival was basically a tool to package the San Francisco scene for mass consumption, via a documentary by filmmaker DA Pennebaker. What most people didn’t know (at least I didn’t) is that the musicians in Big Brother refused to be filmed; they’d agreed to perform non-gratis at the free show (as had all of the acts), but would not give the producers and backers the chance to earn a big payday at their expense. The powers that be went to Janis after the band’s performance and got the naive vocalist to sign a release by telling her that the band went over so well (that part, at least by all indications, wasn’t a lie) that they wanted them to do another set… this one for the camera. Janis, who may not have been as naive as everyone thought, may have been thinking ahead to her future… without Big Brother and the Holding Company. Contractually obligated by Joplin’s signature, the band performed the second set for the cameras, delivering a smoldering performance that actually set the band on the road to ultimate destruction. Digitally remastered clips from the film – “Ball and Chain” and the previously unreleased “Combination of the Two” – focus on Joplin, with the other four members pictured as nothing more than background dressing. Today, the band (and historians) cite the Monterey Pop Festival as the beginning of the end. But… I’ve already said too much! I don’t want to give the whole thing away, or you won’t want to go out and pick up the excellent NINE HUNDRED NIGHTS (the name refers to the nearly two-and-a-half years that the band’s most famous configuration was together).

BIG BROTHER AND THE HOLDING COMPANY (Live at the Carousel Ballroom, San Francisco, 1968: James Gurley, Sam Andrew, Dave Getz, Janis Joplin, Peter Albin) (photo credit/copyright: Elliot Landy/landyvision.com)

I will tell you about the extras that I alluded to earlier, however. The four complete songs featured are “Down On Me,” “The Coo Coo,” “Ball and Chain,” and “Piece of My Heart.” The latter two are from the Monterey film; the first two are black and white performances from, I believe, a German television show. Each shows the incendiary qualities of the group. One of the great misconceptions about this band – often cited over the last three decades as a reason for Janis’ departure – was that they couldn’t handle things musically and their ineptitude was holding Joplin back. This film, and especially these performances, debunk that long-held theory. True, the band may never have reached the heights it attained with Janis Joplin, but Getz, Albin, Gurley and Andrew were amazing musicians and had already carved a niche for themselves as one of the premiere groups in the San Francisco area. They were signed to Mainstream Records, a small but influential label, and were getting attention beyond the Bay Area. While no one can deny the talent and charisma of the Texas whirlwind named Janis Joplin, the boys weren’t exactly hacks. They were good! Most of the other extra stuff here just kinda reiterates what we learned in the film. Some of the background info from the interview outtakes adds to the story but, accessing them is sort of a pain: You can’t just play the entire sequence, as each question to each interviewee has to be played separately. That’s annoying, but a minor problem; not one that should keep you from picking up this package. The rest of the “bonus features” include a discography, photo gallery, biographical timelines and “Psychedelic Treats.” Even without the extras, this is a great addition to anyone’s DVD and music libraries.

ENO

(FILM FIRST COMPANY/TIGERLILY PRODUCTIONS (85 minutes; Unrated); 2024)

It was absolutely NOT a predictable thing that Brian Eno would ever agree to having a documentary film made about him; he’s on record as stating that he hates most musician biopics, and he has little interest in discussing or examining his own past. But when director Gary Hustwit approached the wunderkind artist/producer/lecturer/thinker/modern philosopher about a project in this realm, it was NOT the ordinary pitch. Hustwit had already worked with Eno on his previous film RAMS, a documentary about influential German designer Dieter Rams, for which Eno did the score. Hustwit had already been working on ideas for a “generative” approach to filmmaking, a way for film to NOT always be the same when watched. In the pamphlet handed out for his film about Eno, very useful in understanding the project, he says this: “When everything went digital, both filmmaking and exhibition, this constraint of a film having to be the same every time or having to be a fixed piece of art was gone. So I reached out to my friend Brendan Dawes, this amazing digital artist and creator who I’d known for 15 years. And he was game to try… First we started experimenting using all the raw footage from RAMS, including Brian’s music. We both realized that Brian would be the perfect subject for a generative documentary and ended up showing Brian a demo using the RAMS footage. He was excited to get involved. I don’t think he was excited about having a documentary about himself, but I think he was excited about the possibilities around the generative film system.”

ENO (BRIAN ENO) (screenshot)

It goes without saying that there was going to be tons and tons of potentially interesting footage of Eno’s artistic odyssey from which Hustwit could draw to make his experimental doc. You’re talking about the guy who was a founding member of glam rock pioneers Roxy Music, the groundbreaking artist who made crazily inventive albums like HERE COME THE WARM JETS and ANOTHER GREEN WORLD in the mid ‘70s, the man who gave a name to and contextualized the fresh new genre called ambient music, the groundbreaking producer who put his name on some of the most important albums to emerge in the ‘70s and ‘80s by artists like Talking Heads, David Bowie, U2, James, Coldplay and many more; the guy who began creating unprecedented changing light sculptures and exhibitions throughout the world, and a truly visionary creative “philosopher” and thinker who raised many significant questions about the purpose of art, and the complex nature of the world’s problems, and how we should try to think about solving them. Brian Eno is easily one of the most influential artists in music history, and has had a hand in more things than most people might realize. Did you know, for example, that his collaboration with David Byrne, MY LIFE IN THE BUSH OF GHOSTS, was one of the first records to use sampling, and that it influenced many early hip hop artists? That he composed the Microsoft Windows startup theme in the early days of the internet? And that despite the early scorn that some critics heaped on ambient music back in the ‘70s, the genre became a truly significant phenomenon by the late ‘90s, and exploded into new relevance during the pandemic. It is now inescapable throughout the world, and is closely married to the world of film scoring, giving Eno regular work in that realm with projects such as FOR ALL MANKIND, THE LOVELY BONES and Michael Mann’s HEAT. So it would be a daunting task for ANY filmmaker to put a doc together on Mister Eno. But it sure helped that Eno gave Hustwit hundreds of hours of rare, often never before seen footage to utilize and that the generative program he developed was able to ensure that no showing of the “final” film would be the same as any other showing. Weird and unprecedented, eh?

ENO (BRIAN ENO) (photo credit: CECILY ENO)

Screenings of ENO have sold out in most cities where it is shown, and I wondered if I would ever have the opportunity to experience it. But when the Speed Art Museum in Louisville announced a single screening of the movie, my chance arrived. And wow, was it a fascinating, often breathtaking event! Each version of the film is set up with little technological “triggers” that cause certain other sequences to come up next, without filmmaker or audiences knowing what that will be. The film itself contains these transitional “indicators” that let the viewer know a change is about to happen. So yes, you might get some special footage of the early days of Roxy Music, like I saw in MY version of the film, with the glammed-up Roxy boys singing “Virginia Plain” and showing what absolute originals they were. But you might NOT. And even if you are thrilled to see the footage, it’s gonna end before you’ve had your fill, probably. Up next? Will it be Eno’s early video for “Seven Deadly Finns?” Something featuring Laurie Anderson? A discussion of “Oblique Strategies” and how Eno used them to work with David Bowie on his “Berlin Trilogy?” YES, to those latter two things for the version I saw. We get to learn all about the formation of the specialized deck of cards intended to help break creative stalemates. Eno talks about how he and Bowie drew conceptually opposing cards when they were recording the track “Moss Garden” on HEROES. Wryly, we see David Byrne reading a couple of simple cards, and Byrne is featured prominently in a discussion of MY LIFE IN THE BUSH OF GHOSTS. Not much about Talking Heads, however, which was disappointing. But there is a lengthy and amusing segment on U2 and some of the tension that had to be worked through during the production of THE UNFORGETTABLE FIRE, and in particular the song MLK.

ENO (BRIAN ENO) (screenshot)

I was perhaps most delighted by the amount of talking we get to experience Eno doing, such as his discussion of “why we like music” and how ultimately most humans are driven by “the need to feel you belong.” And about how he tended to always question his own habits, asking the enduring question, “What if we DON’T do it that way?” That ends up having relevance not only for music, but for complicated moral and technological issues as well. My version of the film featured a lot of footage of Eno in his garden, talking about the influence of the natural world on his music, and how what became known as “ambient” was the result of Eno wanting to create a “place” and “inhabitants” and changing movement in his sonic creations. He demonstrates some sound-building efforts in his studio, and I was riveted by these scenes. “I want a sky,” he says of one evolving composition. “What ELSE do I want in this world?” He discusses his enduring interest in “more and more complex and beautiful things,” and shows us his plethora of detailed notebooks that he’s been keeping for decades, to help organize and capture “new ways of explaining things.” And frequently there are memorable scenes such as when the legendary producer admits to breaking down in tears during the creation of the track “Spirits Drifting,” as it came about during a terrible period of insecurity when he was certain he was wasting money on expensive studio time and did NOT have (seemingly) the ideas or impetus to get anything finished.

ENO (BRIAN ENO) (screenshot)

Wow, that happened to ENO? The guy who has finished more groundbreaking projects and fresh ideas than arguably anyone else in the industry, over time? So, there are indeed some cool revelations like that as well as plenty of music, discussions about art and the problem of being a morally concerned citizen of Planet Earth. We have some options for making things better, Eno says, but we also may just screw it up in the end. My piece here summarizes what I got to experience at this particular screening, but if you are lucky enough to see the film somewhere at some time, you may catch completely different segments. At any rate, for any fan of the truly legendary Eno, this film is a must-see. No, it is likely NOT going to be a comprehensive overview of his whole career, and as my companion pointed out, some may be bothered by the lack of narrative consistency or “arc” in this experimental movie. But boy, I ate it up. And I can hardly wait to see a bunch more versions of the film, should I get that chance.

IN THE COURT OF THE CRIMSON KING: KING CRIMSON AT 50

(DISCIPLINE GLOBAL MOBILE (86 minutes; Unrated); 2023)

In the pantheon of so-called “progressive rock” groups, you’ll always find discussion of such bands as Yes, Genesis, ELP, Pink Floyd and a few other titans of technological trailblazing and trickery. Prog rock has generally been revered and reviled in equal percentages, but that’s no big deal… EVERYTHING is nowadays. Mention King Crimson, however, and I suspect there’ll often be a pause before the expected opinion is uttered. There’s always been something DIFFERENT, something hard to pin down about this Robert Fripp-led ensemble. You can’t just say ONE thing about them. Were they the makers of that outstanding classic rock platter IN THE COURT OF THE CRIMSON KING, the one with the cover of an enlarged mouth gone wild and the immensely pleasing vocals by Greg Lake? The unpredictable sonic architects of challenging platters like RED? The laboratory where some of today’s finest musicians, such as Bill Bruford, Tony Levin (looking cool as heck in his segments) and Adrian Belew went IN and came OUT as changed players forever? The often tyrannical experiment waged by mad overseer Robert Fripp who expected DISCIPLINE (pun intended), tireless dedication and an impossible sort of perfection from anyone he deemed worthy enough to be part of his ongoing alchemical adventure? The answer: YES. To all of that. And as the amazing documentary IN THE COURT OF THE CRIMSON KING: KING CRIMSON AT 50 makes clear, there was a lot of suffering taking place to make that art over a half-century’s duration..

“I came back from making some of that music and my hair had fallen out,” said guitarist extraordinaire Adrian Belew, whom most associate with one of the most fertile and memorable phases of the band, from 1981 to 2009. “It was so stressful to be under the microscope that way.”

“It could be a very bumpy… and lumpy ride,” Bill Bruford offered about his time in the band. “Some people handle being winded, and WOUNDED, better than others.”

Guitarist/vocalist Trey Gunn, part of the band from 1994-2003, provides an even more memorable quote about the KC experience. He compared being in Crimson to having a low-grade infection. “You’re not really sick, but you don’t feel well, either.”

IN THE COURT OF THE CRIMSON KING (JAMIE MUIR) (screen shot)

Much has been written about King Crimson over the course of their volatile journey, and this documentary does a good job of trying to provide perspective on a fascinating musical story. A common element in any attempt to discuss the band is coming to terms with the uncompromising vision of guitarist/leader Fripp, who, as one of the most innovative guitarists of all time, had the right to pursue his musical goals and listen to what his ego commanded. But that was not always pleasant for the players, to say the least, and Fripp himself has often said he’s not always the nicest guy in pursuit of his musical ambition. Some contributors, such as percussionist Jamie Muir, didn’t last long; his work was mostly confined to the 1973 album LARKS’ TONGUES IN ASPIC.

“It’s a maelstrom of electricity,” he said in a clip from the film. “You’re in the middle of a storm, and you’ve got to stand in the middle of this storm and coherently play music. And a roaring, bellowing, regal animal tries to emerge out of something.”

IN THE COURT OF THE CRIMSON KING (ROBERT FRIPP AND “THE GREAT SILENCE”) (screen shot)

There are plenty of clips of performances in the doc, although maybe not as many as you might want from the early days. But it’s the honest interviews with the many fabled musicians that make the biggest impression. Some, such as drummer Bill Rieflin, are not around anymore despite a prominent presence in the movie (Rieflin died in 2020 at the age of 59). There are quite a few segments that feature Rieflin, and he’s one of the more affable commentators we see. “Urgency is one of the main characteristics of Crimson music,” he relates. We see that powerful vibe in clip after clip, and Rieflin is among those who apparently thought the relentless challenge of it all was worth it, despite the “constant pain” he was in during his last couple of years. Rieflin was quite a storied musician already, having contributed his talents to bands such as Ministry, Pigface, REM and Swans among others. He was passionate about what Crimson was doing and said he was “made for it” when asked why he stayed when it was clearly so tough. “Music can restore grace, if only for a moment, in a person’s life,” the drummer related. He could have been referring to both the players and the fans. The doc shows us numerous crowd scenes of Crimson fans, clearly enraptured, bobbing their heads or staring at the band in awe. There’s a substantial segment featuring a nun, of all people, expressing her rabid enthusiasm for the band. “It goes over most peoples’ heads,” one pundit declares. “It is quasi scientific. If you get it, you really get it. Something like magic happens. But the conditions have to be so perfect. To get there… it’s so fragile.”

IN THE COURT OF THE CRIMSON KING (ROBERT FRIPP) (screen shot)

The film does not shy away from showing how bull-headed Robert Fripp often was. He was often quick to get angry, dismissive of early incarnations of the band, and actually somewhat insulting to director Toby Amies. A long and painful moment near the end of the doc shows the director waiting eternally for Fripp to answer a reasonable question. I had to check my screen a couple of times to make sure the image hadn’t frozen… but no, it was just a long, long closeup of Fripp thinking, composing some sort of response. And one of the last scenes is a direct insult, with Fripp obviously NOT quite appreciating the inherent uncertainty of what Amies was trying to do… putting together a sprawling and ambitious doc about one of the most singular and unpredictable bands in the history of rock music. Amies makes a wise decision to feature so many players in KC’s revolving door talking about their experiences… a sense of the genuinely personal and honest comes through, from pride to abject misery at times. “I just started to hate what I was hearing,” admits Ian McDonald, a KC member only in their first incarnation. “The really dark things. I hated inflicting it on the audience.”

IN THE COURT OF THE CRIMSON KING (KING CRIMSON LIVE AT ROYAL ALBERT HALL) (photo credit: TONY LEVIN)

But as the passing of time (and the countless changes) have shown, King Crimson has a dedicated fan base, who LIKE the “dark things” and the less easily accessible elements of this wild and weird music. Fripp always has an intense look on his face in the doc, like he KNOWS that attaining musical transcendence is possible, no matter the hardships for the rest of the band (and, to be fair, HIMSELF) in trying to get there. KING CRIMSON AT 50 serves the fan base well and does a remarkably balanced job at portraying the tireless pursuit of aiming for the sonic UNKNOWN by a truly ambitious innovator and his band of (mostly) sympathetic comrades. Whatever your opinion of any phase of Crimson’s long career, this well-paced documentary is absolutely worth seeking out.


(EDITOR’S NOTE: As an aside for readers in the Saint Louis area, if you miss Crimson’s “live actions” or just want to see a really good band playing some very challenging music, there is a great tribute band called THRAK performing locally for your listening and dancing pleasure. Check out their Facebook page when you need to scratch that Crimson itch.)