We tracked down two obscure documentaries about two obscure bands, via Night Flight Plus:
OUT OF TIME: THE MATERIAL ISSUE STORY (B) - Material Issue was one of those bands that had every element necessary to break big, and but for a few cups of coffee on MTV in the early '90s, the big break just never came. This detailed and earnest documentary tells the story of the rise and tragic fall of the power-pop band's leader, Jim Ellison, and the mates he left hanging.
The first third is an origin story of a hard-working and talented trio who met during their college years in Chicago. Ellison wrote the songs and fronted the band, which also featured Ted Ansani on bass and Mike Zelenko on drums. They were regular guys from working class families, putting out their early songs on their own label run out of Ellison's suburban home. By 1990 they were featured on MTV's hip Sunday night show "120 Minutes," with the irresistibly catchy "Valerie Loves Me" and "Diane." Former host Matt Pinfield shows up here as an ardent fan to this day.
Talking heads (including Ansani and Zelenko) unwrap the history of the band, whose second and third albums produced diminishing returns, eventually leaving them without a recording contract. Producer Mike Chapman (Blondie, Sweet, the Knack) was working with the band on a fourth album when that tragedy struck. He, too, to this day gets emotional over how things turned out. Chicago bigwigs who give props include Steve Albini, Joe Shanahan (the club Metro), and newspaper critics Greg Kot and Jim DeRogatis (they still host "Sound Opinions" on radio). Stories and footage of Cheap Trick's Rick Nielsen showing up in the studio to expertly lay down guitar tracks add a jolt to the movie.
This clocks in at barely an hour, and the tight running time allows for a patented VH-1 "Behind the Music" three-part arc. Director Balin Schneider, an L.A. journalist, does his homework, spending time with Ellison's family and with Ansani and Zelenko, who disappear from the film after the tragedy unfolds, as if they didn't want to talk about it on camera. What shines through, though, is the music, smart and shimmery and infused with hooks that should have spawned years of hits.
WE WERE FAMOUS, YOU DON'T REMEMBER: THE EMBARRASSMENT (A-minus) - Sometimes dismissed as cheeky DIY pop pranksters, Wichita, Kansas' the Embarrassment had some serious chops that could have carried them the career that R.E.M. had. Instead, they burned hot on the fringes of the indie scene for a few years in the early '80s and then burned out after releasing a bunch of singles and one album, never to record again. Instead, their brand of "blister pop" leaves them just fondly remembered legends of the old Lawrence college-town music scene.
This documentary, by newcomers Daniel Featherston and Danny Szlauderback, is so much more than history lesson about a cult band from 40 years ago. It is a celebration of a special moment in time and a paean to ingrained emotions that are implanted in our youth and quietly cherished over the decades. Author Thomas Frank (What's the Matter With Kansas?), as usual, articulates this concept the best in a few talking-head interviews. It's that idea of treasuring the memory of that one band you loved that nobody has ever heard of except for those few people who were there. Other contributions come from contemporaries and admirers Grant Hart of Husker Du, Freedy Johnston and Evan Dando.
Two of the band members grew up as childhood buddies, and the core group formed in 1979 in the vast wasteland of the nation's heartland. Each man shows a degree of wistfulness in contemporary interviews -- singer John Nichols, guitarist Bill Goffrier, bassist Ron Klaus, and drummer Brent "Woody" Giessmann, who would land on his feet banging the snare with the Del Fuegos out of Boston. It's a shame that they broke up, but each man seems to have had a fulfilling career since.
The music itself stands on its own, and you could put it up against any post-punk release around the turn of the '80s, and the band's arch chord structures closely echo those of R.E.M., which broke through with its first album right after the Embarrassment called it quits, as if there was a soul transfer from Wichita to Athens. Footage from a concert at their headquarters -- a funky old bank next to the train tracks -- is threaded throughout the documentary, and it is a repeated reminder of how infectious their music was and how charming the band could be. One observer struggles to come up with a simple description of the music and ends up calling it "propulsive, danceable, jangly, angular goof rock."
I didn't discover the Embarrassment until their compilation album "Heyday" was release in the late '90s, so I can't claim any connection to that magical Wichita/Lawrence heyday. But I can appreciate what Frank and others experienced, how the songs soaked into their DNA, and how they can honor that burst of creativity and joy without sounding like pathetic nostalgia whores. It was a special time. This movie makes you wish you had been there. And it reminds you that, even if you weren't there, you were somewhere, and if you can conjure up your own former zeitgeist moments, then you are lucky to be able to revisit that happy place.
BONUS TRACKS
Let's start with Material Issue's first hit, "Valerie Loves Me":
"What Girls Want" live on the Dennis Miller talk show:
My favorite Embarrassment song is "Elizabeth Montgomery's Face":
One-upping Wire on their debut single, "Sex Drive":
And we can't forget Art Carney -- "Celebrity Art Party" (R.E.M. came up with the same ringing guitar riffs out in Athens, Ga., around the same time):
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