PUNK II: The Curse

REVENGE OF THE MEKONS (B) - Self-deprecation has its merits. It can help a bunch of punks make it to middle age with their integrity intact.

The Mekons emerged as the amateurish but politically vibrant alternative to their pals in Gang of Four in the Leeds music scene in the late 1970s, on the eve of Thatcher. They reinvented themselves with a pioneering alt-country album "Fear and Whiskey," with roots in both the English folk tradition and Hank Williams (abetted by a Chicago disc jockey who shipped them tapes of classic '50s country songs). They then re-emerged with their crunchy "Rock 'n' Roll" album in the late '80s, launching their most prolific decade of mature work -- all the while suffering the slings and arrows and curses of the fickle record industry, bouncing tragically from label to label before finding a home in Chicago.

Chicago native Joe Angio ably captures the spirit and verve of this ragtag caravan of artists who settled into a permanent lineup by the early '90s, including a violinist, accordionist and, for a while, a wild-limbed roadie. The core of the band consists of Tom Greenhalgh, who is the bearded George Harrison mystic of the group; the prolific Jon Langford, whose seductive green eyes and perpetual mischievous streak belie a Joe Strummer intensity; and velvet-voiced Sally Timms, another wiseacre whose artistry seems to spring from a deep well of hurt.

Anyone who has seen them live knows that Jon and Sally, who dated way back in the '80s when he recruited her into the fold, can banter like a British Sonny and Cher (or Cher and Letterman). Angio taps into the energy of that witty, charming duo but he doesn't ignore the rest of the band, offering extended glimpses into the lives of Susie Honeyman, Greenhalgh, and Rico Bell. He travels to Tajikistan with the nomadic Lu Edmonds (The Damned, PiL, Billy Bragg's Blokes) as the guitarist explores the sounds from other cultures.

Much of the footage appears to be from 2007 to 2011, including extensive scenes from recording sessions from their most recent album "Ancient and Modern." We get intimate shots of the Mekons writing songs and engaging in living-room recording sessions. We see them eating together family-style in a communal circle. It's a fascinating look at the creative process of a close-knit troupe.

The vintage clips are wonderful, including an MTV interview conducted by a youngish Fred Armisen, who was once married to Timms and was part of the '90s Chicago music scene (as the drummer for Trenchmouth) with her and Langford. Novelist Jonathan Franzen pops up as a fanboy talking head. Veterans of the punk era and from the band's early revolving-door years tell heartfelt tales. Angio doesn't ignore the band's more bizarre detours, like their ill-advised collaboration with performance artist Kathy Acker (try to sit through "Pussy, King of Pirates"). (One complaint: Angio mostly ignores the band's work from the turn of the millennium, its peak and its masterpiece "Journey to the End of Night.")

A scene that underlines the band's perpetual underdog status shows the band members at a club gig finding out from the audience that their next scheduled show has been canceled, apparently due to lack of ticket sales. In another scene, Timms forgets the words to one of her signature songs, “Ghosts Of American Astronauts," and has her bottle of vodka confiscated by Langford while another band member fetches the book of lyrics for her.

This is a loving look at hugely talented musicians/songwriters/performers/artists who not only have survived the music business on their terms but who seem to genuinely like each other like siblings and still love getting together every few years to create music and jam like there's no tomorrow. They long ago found peace with the idea that they'll never be superstars. It's all a blessing and a curse.

BONUS TRACKS
Our title track, from a live 2008 performance:



After their first single, "Never Been in a Riot" (an answer song to the Clash's "White Riot"), the Mekons broke through with this anthem: 



A punk manifesto. ("East Berlin can't buy a thing; there's nothing they can sell me.") The hit that never was:



Cowboy Sally, with the voice of an angel: 



The perfect closer (with Neko Case on backing vocals):