"Gypsy: Rock & Roll Nomads": B. In the mid-sixties the three most popular rock bands in the Twin Cities
were, arguably, the Accents, Gregory Dee & The Avantis, and the
Underbeats. Gypsy: Rock & Roll Nomads is the story of the
band which originally called themselves the Underbeats before moving to
Los Angeles in 1968. The documentary received a warm welcome at its
initial showing last week as part of the Minneapolis St. Paul
International Film Festival.
The Underbeats played at numerous
venues throughout the Cities, including Mr. Lucky's, the Prom Ballroom
and Danceland. They also performed at teen clubs throughout the five
state area and invariably drew large enthusiastic crowds. The band was
booked every weekend. The roster changed over time, but its principal
core was the trio of keyboardist James "Owl" Walsh, rhythm guitarist Jim
James and lead guitarist Enrico Rosenbaum. Although he kept a low
profile, Enrico was responsible for writing almost all of the
Underbeats' original music.
Notwithstanding the group's wild
popularity on the five state circuit, the promised land in the music
industry was LA. The guys felt their careers had reached maximum
potential as a Minnesota band, and only a move to the West Coast could
send them to new heights. While Johnson, a draftee, was fulfilling his
obligations in Viet Nam, the band picked up stakes in 1968 and rented a
house in the Los Feliz section of the big city. Their back yard abutted
that of the La Bianca family, murder victims at the hands of the Manson
family. In the City Of Angels there would be access to more radio stations, labels,
promoters, booking agents, music halls, print media coverage, and other
necessities for their dream to go national.
Among the first
orders of business was to change their name to Gypsy, after briefly
considering the moniker Spare Change. Much of documentarian Aaron
Goodyear's movie concentrates on those years in the Santa Monica hills.
One of Gypsy's early breaks occurred when they were hired to be the
house band at Whiskey A Go Go, the pre-eminent venue for soon-to-be
breaking artists in LA.. There they would be following in the footsteps
of bands like Buffalo Springfield, the Byrds and the Doors, who also
got their starts in that rollicking Sunset Strip club.
Blessed
with three members who could sing lead, Gypsy's forte was vocal
strength. That, coupled with excellent production values and
arrangements, set them apart from the competition. Rosenbaum's music
was catchy, electric, up tempo and danceable. Although some members
fell victim to the California rock star life style of drugs, booze,
parties and groupies, they took their musical mission seriously, playing
up to nine shows a week and rehearsing their craft diligently. They
were asked to tour as the warm up band with some of the big names in the
business, like the Guess Who and Chicago. Thanks to St. Louis radio
station KSHE, which allowed their DJs to spin records of their own
choosing, Gypsy established that city as their primary fan base. The
documentary contains video of a packed Busch Stadium, where the fans
cheered the band on with Beatlesque hysteria.
The film briefly
explores why Gypsy, in spite of its stellar Rosenbaum-penned repertoire,
never made it as a national artist. The main reason, albeit obvious,
is that Gypsy never had that monster hit which could serve as their
gateway to stardom. The band never landed a song in the Top 40, as
their most successful single, Gypsy Queen - Part 1, reached its
zenith at # 62 on the Billboard charts in early 1971. A second
important cause of their shortcoming, if you want to call it that, was
the selection of the label with which they chose to sign a recording
contract. According to Walsh and James, they opted for Metromedia
instead of Atlantic Records because they thought the former company
would give them more one-on-one support than the larger Atlantic could
offer. As it turned out, Metromedia simply did not have the resources
or the experience to promote and underwrite a newcomer like Gypsy in its
attempt to get noticed out of the dozens of competitors trying to go
beyond the LA scene.
I was impressed with the work that went into
the making of Goodyear's documentary. He wisely inserted interviews
with Minneapolis rock historian Rick Shefchik (the author of Everybody's Heard About The Bird: The True Story Of 1960's Rock 'n' Roll In Minnesota),
who elaborated on the music landscape of the Twin Cities in the
sixties. Goodyear, whose day job is being a cameraman for WCCO sports,
and Walsh were present at the Festival showing for a Q & A.
Although the film does show concert footage from the later years of
Gypsy's run - they disbanded in 1975 -- it is sorely lacking in video
coverage from the Underbeat days. The irony of that omission is
inescapably noticeable and disappointing , given the local angle
marketing of the film by the Festival. There is also no video from any
of the dozens of shows Gypsy played at Whiskey A Go Go.
The death
of Prince occurred five days ago, yet the Minneapolis Star Tribune
still carries related stories as front page headline news. One of the
reasons Prince was cherished here is because even after he became a
megastar, he continued to live and work in the area. This leads me to
wonder about the Underbeats' decision to bid farewell to Minny in 1968
and make its way to the coast. Other of their Twin Cities
contemporaries chose to stay in Cold Country and ended up with Top 40
hits, to wit, the Castaways from Richfield (Liar, Liar hit # 12 in 1965) and The Trashmen from Minneapolis (Surfin' Bird hitting # 4 in 1963, followed by Bird Dance Beat reaching # 30 in 1964). Was heading to LA the right move for the Underbeats?
Monday, April 25, 2016
Wednesday, April 13, 2016
Movie Review: "They Will Have To Kill Us First"
"They Will Have To Kill Us First": B. Imagine a poor landlocked region of almost a half
million square miles on the Dark Continent, somewhat shaped like a
figure 8. Then turn its north/south axis forty-five degrees to the
right, put it in the middle of the Sahara Desert, and what you end up
with is the country of Mali. Despite their desolate third world
surroundings, the people of Mali, most of whom are Muslim, are a happy,
peaceful population who rely on music as an important source of joy. They Will Have To Kill Us First
is a documentary which takes us through a recent three year period,
commencing 2012, when the northern half of the country was overrun by
jihadists who imposed a new, super-conservative set of laws on the
citizens, including a prohibition against listening to or playing
music.
The film focuses on four artists, the two most prominent of whom are the very likable Khaira Arby and Fadimatah "Disco" Oumar. Both women are optimistic that one day they will play instrumental roles in bringing their native music back to their homeland. For much of the story they are exiled from "the north" and must live either in the southern section of Mali, where its capital, Bamako, is located, or in neighboring Burkina Faso. In spite of their setbacks, they have smiles on their faces as they are interviewed over the course of three years by the filmmakers. Khaira's dream is to return to her home city of Timbuktu, located in the north, and put on a free concert for those who lived through the turmoil and suffering under the invaders' regime. While they wait for the French army, and later the UN forces, to eradicate the Islamic extremists, Khaira and Disco carry on singing and playing. These strong women do so with joy, and a touch of defiance. Music is like a religion to these spiritual women; they will not be denied.
The other two artists interviewed at various times throughout the film are Moussa Sidi and the band Songhoy Blues. The former, usually seen in his purple robe and turban, speaks of his wife whom he left behind in the northern city of Gao and who now might be in prison. Strangely, he does not seem too worried. Moussa's social skills, at least in front of a camera, are nearly at the opposite end of the spectrum to those of the two featured women. One reason for his reticence is that he is a Tuareg, i.e., a member of the nomadic race that is indigenous to the Sahara. This makes him noticeably different from most of the residents of Bamako, whose ethnicity is Bambara, so he keeps a low profile. He is unintentionally funny.
The fourth artist, Songhoy Blues, is comprised of four musicians from various parts of Mali. They came together in Bamako. Unlike Khaira, Disco and Moussa, they choose to make their mark in London rather than wait for the northern section of Mali to be restored to peace. Thus one questions why they are included in the documentary, other than to show how different artists handled the disruption to their lives in different ways. The music of Soghoy Blues is the most accessible and, to my ears, most enjoyable of any on the soundtrack. It's a fusion of reggae and blues, heavy on acoustic guitars and percussion. So, I don't blame director Johanna Schwartz for including the quartet.
Although the salvation and restoration of music is the impetus for the film, I found the historical details for this remote country even more attention grabbing. The 2012 turmoil started when the Tuareg people of the north rebelled against the national government in an attempt to form their own independent state. That uprising made the north vulnerable to the jihadists who poured in, overwhelmed their opposition and established their version of Sharia law. The documentary includes rare footage of the extremists' exploits, including a gruesome infliction of corporal punishment, albeit distantly shot (thank goodness).
This movie is part of the 35th annual Minneapolis St. Paul International Film Festival. Unless one buys a season pass or a discounted six pack, individual tickets are priced at $13. That is fairly steep, yet the Uptown Theater was almost filled to capacity for the film's first showing last Friday evening. To take the bite out of the hefty entry fee, Songhoy Blues showed up in person after the screening for a twenty minute Q & A. French is their native language, although one of the three also spoke English. The band's manager who stood next to them assisted with translation. At least three of the young men seemed eager to share their story, and required little prompting by the Festival moderator. The band, which was booked at Ice House right after the show, is on a short American tour. The Festival is screening the film one more time, tomorrow at 4:35 at the Uptown.
The film focuses on four artists, the two most prominent of whom are the very likable Khaira Arby and Fadimatah "Disco" Oumar. Both women are optimistic that one day they will play instrumental roles in bringing their native music back to their homeland. For much of the story they are exiled from "the north" and must live either in the southern section of Mali, where its capital, Bamako, is located, or in neighboring Burkina Faso. In spite of their setbacks, they have smiles on their faces as they are interviewed over the course of three years by the filmmakers. Khaira's dream is to return to her home city of Timbuktu, located in the north, and put on a free concert for those who lived through the turmoil and suffering under the invaders' regime. While they wait for the French army, and later the UN forces, to eradicate the Islamic extremists, Khaira and Disco carry on singing and playing. These strong women do so with joy, and a touch of defiance. Music is like a religion to these spiritual women; they will not be denied.
The other two artists interviewed at various times throughout the film are Moussa Sidi and the band Songhoy Blues. The former, usually seen in his purple robe and turban, speaks of his wife whom he left behind in the northern city of Gao and who now might be in prison. Strangely, he does not seem too worried. Moussa's social skills, at least in front of a camera, are nearly at the opposite end of the spectrum to those of the two featured women. One reason for his reticence is that he is a Tuareg, i.e., a member of the nomadic race that is indigenous to the Sahara. This makes him noticeably different from most of the residents of Bamako, whose ethnicity is Bambara, so he keeps a low profile. He is unintentionally funny.
The fourth artist, Songhoy Blues, is comprised of four musicians from various parts of Mali. They came together in Bamako. Unlike Khaira, Disco and Moussa, they choose to make their mark in London rather than wait for the northern section of Mali to be restored to peace. Thus one questions why they are included in the documentary, other than to show how different artists handled the disruption to their lives in different ways. The music of Soghoy Blues is the most accessible and, to my ears, most enjoyable of any on the soundtrack. It's a fusion of reggae and blues, heavy on acoustic guitars and percussion. So, I don't blame director Johanna Schwartz for including the quartet.
Although the salvation and restoration of music is the impetus for the film, I found the historical details for this remote country even more attention grabbing. The 2012 turmoil started when the Tuareg people of the north rebelled against the national government in an attempt to form their own independent state. That uprising made the north vulnerable to the jihadists who poured in, overwhelmed their opposition and established their version of Sharia law. The documentary includes rare footage of the extremists' exploits, including a gruesome infliction of corporal punishment, albeit distantly shot (thank goodness).
This movie is part of the 35th annual Minneapolis St. Paul International Film Festival. Unless one buys a season pass or a discounted six pack, individual tickets are priced at $13. That is fairly steep, yet the Uptown Theater was almost filled to capacity for the film's first showing last Friday evening. To take the bite out of the hefty entry fee, Songhoy Blues showed up in person after the screening for a twenty minute Q & A. French is their native language, although one of the three also spoke English. The band's manager who stood next to them assisted with translation. At least three of the young men seemed eager to share their story, and required little prompting by the Festival moderator. The band, which was booked at Ice House right after the show, is on a short American tour. The Festival is screening the film one more time, tomorrow at 4:35 at the Uptown.
Sunday, April 10, 2016
Quarterly Cinema Scan - Volume XXIII
Did you ever notice that, throughout the years, there exists a
handful of movies which have become almost equally famous for a certain
spoken line as for the story itself. For example, most of you have
probably heard the famous quote, "I coulda been a contenda" uttered by a distraught
Marlon Brando. But I'd be willing to bet that only a fraction of the
people who are vaguely familiar with it can identify the movie, the name
of Brando's character or, much less, the plot. The film is On The Waterfront,
winner of the Best Picture Oscar from 1954. Another prize commensurate
with the Oscar garnered by that classic was the grade of A which I
bestowed upon it in my Quarterly Cinema Scan on April 2, 2013.
Along the same lines is this: "What we have here is a failure to communicate." Many have heard, or even used,
that expression -- I heard a basketball analyst use it this year when a guard
errantly passed the ball out of bounds because he mistakenly thought
his teammate would be there -- but I dare say they may be stumped in an
attempt to identify the movie (1967's Cool Hand Luke), the
character or actor (originally spoken by Strother Martin playing the
Captain), and the plot. (I gave the film a B in the same QCS noted
above.)
The list of quotes which have come
close to supplanting, in our collective memories, the stories of the
movies in which they were spoken goes on. Examples include "Make my
day" from 1971's Dirty Harry, "I'll have what she's having" from 1989's When Harry Met Sally, and "The Dude abides" from 1998's The Big Lebowski.
One of the most puzzling instances of a movie line becoming almost an
everyday expression was "Love means never having to say you're sorry."
It comes from the 1970's weeper, Love Story, starring Ryan
O'Neill as Oliver Barrett IV and Ali McGraw as Jenny Cavalleri. He is a Harvard senior from a
wealthy family which has sent generations of sons to that Ivy League
school. She's a Radcliffe student from a blue collar family, and works
in the library where they meet. As you might guess from the title, they
fall in love, but their relationship is star-crossed.
The
famous line is uttered only twice. In the first instance, the couple
has a quarrel and Jenny storms out of their house. When she doesn't
return, Oliver unsuccessfully searches for her all over the
neighborhood and nearby campus. He is beside himself when he walks back
to the house in the pouring rain, only to find his wife sitting on the
front steps, shivering and locked out. Pneumonia is a possibility.
Oliver begins to apologize profusely, but Jenny stops him mid-sentence
and tells him there's no need to apologize. "Love means never having to
say you're sorry." (The second time the line is spoken is near the end
of the movie, but to put it in context more would be a spoiler of
sorts.)
My reaction to Jenny's proclamation:
Huh? What a bunch of hooey. It seems to me just the opposite is true.
If more warring couples found the humility to cough up an apology
instead of insisting on getting in the last dig, peace could be restored
more often and more expeditiously. I am confident my position on the
matter is true, yet the line became a catch phrase in the seventies to
the point where it seemed the majority of the public agreed with it.
Maybe it's simply a matter of the words being more catchy than profound.
Here are the movies I watched at the QE during the first three months of this year.
2. For Whom The Bell Tolls (1943 war drama; during the Spanish Civil War, American explosives expert Gary Cooper holes up in a cave with Republican rebels led by Katina Paxinou, and while waiting for the signal to blow up a strategic bridge, he falls in love with Ingrid Bergman.) C
3. Lillith (1964 drama; mental asylum beauty Jean Seberg is the object of affection from fellow inmate Peter Fonda and staff assistant Warren Beatty.) C+
4. Love Story (1970 romance drama; Ryan O'Neill is a legacy Harvard senior who falls for Radcliffe student Ali McGraw, the daughter of an Italian bakery chef.) B
5. Pride And Prejudice (1940 comedy; Greer Garson, the second oldest of five daughters in a commoner's family, is hesitatingly wooed by Laurence Olivier, a wealthy bachelor who initially isn't sure if Greer is good enough for him.) A-
6. Room (2015 drama; after being kidnapped, impregnated and secretly held captive in a back yard shed for seven years, Brie Larson helps her five year old son, Jacob Tremblay, adjust to the outside world, while she herself confronts a range of obstacles and emotions.) B-
7. Scarlet Street (1945 drama; Edward G. Robinson, an unhappily married painter, gets played for a sucker by a much younger Joan Bennett at the urging of her worthless boyfriend, Dan Duryea.) B+
8. Sense And Sensibility (1995 drama; sensible Emma Thompson and her younger sensitive sister, Kate Winslet, are initially unlucky at love, partly due to the English laws which deprive them of inheriting their father's fortune.) B
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