A Month of Fun Days

 We gobbled up a healthy amount of live music over the course of the past month.

 

The big event was a trip to Denver for the Outside Days festival the final weekend of May. The impetus was the appearance of Grouplove, my partner's favorite band. (See below.) On Saturday night we satisfied longstanding curiosities by checking out the Flaming Lips (just as silly and mildly entertaining as I expected) and My Morning Jacket (who were just too jam-band for our tastes at the 10 o'clock hour). The final night crescendoed with a lively set by Cage the Elephant. 

Frontman Matt Schultz brought the Jagger swagger, and the set list did not disappoint. It helped for me to be surrounded by rabid young fans on the urban college quad. My favorite number was the '60s-inflected garage workout "Mess Around."

 

The month-long run began on May 15 with Broncho at the Launchpad; it's a band I had known only tangentially from their service on the dear-departed jukebox at the nearby downtown pool hall Anodyne. Much of the first half of their set consisted of sludgy psych-pop, though Ryan Lindsey and his mates veered more toward the pop side in the second half. A highlight was the infectious "What":

The Supersuckers passed through Albuquerque, as these road dogs do just about every year. They opened with "Born With a Tail" and wrapped with "Pretty Fucked Up," and in between they touched on just about every era in their 35-year career as rabble-rousers. We previously tossed out those two classic Supersuckers tracks 10 years ago here. Opening for them was Scott H. Biram, torching the stage solo with his brew of folk-rock-blues. Supersuckers leader Eddie Spaghetti joined Biram -- now a haggard greybeard -- for his centerpiece, "Still Drunk, Still Crazy, Still Blue":

 

Here is a short acoustic set from Biram from 13 years ago on KEXP. He was more plugged in during his Albuquerque, working a drum machine with a foot pedal.

Warming up for Grouplove was the sister duo Girl Tones. They felt like a work in progress, aspiring to the fuller sounds of the White Stripes or Black Keys (if not the grunge of Flat Duo Jets), and they amiably tried to get the outdoor crowd amped up. But it wasn't until Grouplove stormed the stage that the audience came alive through the sheer exuberance of the band, which comes off as Up With People but with chops. Grouplove jumped out of the gate inducing singalongs with the opening track "Deleter," and they did not let up from there. They teased an upcoming single "Sh Sh (Fall Apart Together)," leading up to the big hit "Tongue Tied":

 

A year ago I communed with Joe Jackson in Santa Fe, coming to terms with my lonely fandom. He returned to New Mexico again this June, at the historic downtown KiMo Theater, and this time he brought a band to plow through his hits. No gimmicks this time, just a tight best-of set. He started out solo, in a dapper suit, knocking out "Is She Really Going Out With Him?," allowing the audience to fill in the backing vocals. Then the great bass player Graham Maby came out for a duet on "Different for Girls," followed by the rest of the band for a couple of new songs. (Maby's bass should have been higher in the mix.)

Classics included "Sunday Papers," a powerful take on "Another World," "Real Men," "Home Town" and, of course, my favorite, "Be My Number Two." Despite battling the high-desert altitude, Jackson was in fine voice. The best new song (one of three featured from the album "Hope and Fury") was the nostalgic "End of the Pier," a modern lament echoing his upbringing in Portsmouth, England: 

Jackson kicked off a three-song encore with a cover of David Bowie's "Scary Monsters" (this version recorded the next night in Denver):

 

We jetted off to Chicago in mid-June, and the centerpiece concert we picked was Amyl and the Sniffers at the Salt Shed on Elston Avenue, on the grounds of a former Morton Salt warehouse, with views of the city's skyline, set aglow at sunset. Amy Taylor -- clad in a 1970s gym-class outfit, her face smeared like a drag queen's -- stomped the stage and led punk sing-a-longs, fronting a grungy three-piece band. The Aussie frontwoman was idolized by a diverse crowd, who lapped up her message of inclusion and empathized with her bafflement at the state of American politics. But she mostly let the music do the talking. The band reached back to their 2019 debut album for the first encore song, "Got You":

Here is a good sample of Amyl and the gang live, from a year ago in Seattle (she is wearing the same outfit):

 

Finally, the day I arrived in Chicago, my Boomer brother had an extra ticket to see two of his favorite bands, the Doobie Brothers and Santana, who co-headlined a tour that stopped at the outdoor venue in Tinley Park. Due to ridiculous traffic (as if they had never hosted a concert before), we missed the first few Doobie songs, but we caught most of the hits in a 16-song set. The band has lost a step or two, though Tom Johnston's voice remains strong. (Michael McDonald, on the other hand, is getting a bit raspy these days.) They truly felt like an "oldies" act; the boys fronted a screen that displayed retro videos featuring their various lineups. There are few things in life as joyful as a smile on Patrick Simmons' face. Let's lament one of our favorites that we missed, Simmons' "Depending on You":

And another favorite, one they did not play (but did later in the tour for the first time live since 1982), McDonald's solo R&B jam "I Keep Forgettin'":

 

Then Santana hit the stage and tore the roof off the pavilion. Their set was a near-nonstop burst of Latin poly-rhythms, high energy out of the gate. Carlos Santana, pushing 80, leaned on a stool a lot as he rippled out his soaring, searing guitar licks. His wife, Cindy (an alum from Lenny Kravitz' band), annihilated her drum set, assisted by players on bongos and timbales. Two singers traded off lead-vocal duties. The hop-scotching set mixed in a little rap, covered the Zombies' "She's Not There," and offered a mashup of Marvin Gaye's "Inner City Blues" and a phoned-in "Come Together." 

Highlights included "Samba pa ti," "Oye Como Va" and the mesmerizing "Jin-go-lo-ba"

I never expected Santana's high-powered jam session to be a highlight of that month of fun days. But sometimes the Boomers can still bring it.

Doc Watch: But I Play One on TV ...

 

EVERYONE IS LYING TO YOU FOR MONEY (B+) - Ben McKenzie seems like a nice guy. Good looking. Smart too. Wrote a book. And, hey, wasn't he that guy on "The O.C." 20 years ago? And Det. Gordon on "Gotham" 10 years ago? 

 

I wasn't familiar with McKenzie but he comes off as amiable and charming, and he has a degree in economics, so he's as good a person as any to turn a skeptical eye to the cryptocurrency market. McKenzie sets out to expose the flimsiness of the cryto schemes and dares the Doge bros to prove him wrong. Among his targets is a soft one, Sam Bankman-Fried (above left), who in retrospect seems like an obviously disturbed con man. (He ended up in prison.)

McKenzie brings a breezy, self-deprecating style to his fast-paced 90-minute documentary. He jumps out of the gate with a clever misdirection, and the comedic tone is set. He is fond of recording fans recognizing him out of context in the wild. He banters with an old buddy, whose curiosity about crypto helped inspire a book by McKenzie and this movie, filmed over several post-COVID years.

McKenzie knows a good hook when he sees one, and when you are married to Morena Baccarin ("Deadpool," TV's "Homeland"), you work her into the narrative. (She's good with a spousal side-eye.) Who am I to kick Morena Baccarin out of any movie; at times, though, her appearances come off as a humble-brag by the writer-director-star. He hangs out on the set of a movie starring Baccarin and Gerard Butler, proving the hunky leading man to offer an Everyman's opinion on the topic. (It also generates a typically droll one-liner from McKenzie, when he transitions to the next scene by intoning, "Maybe Gerard Butler was right.") However, McKenzie also feels the need to work his kids into the story, and that's where this spills into the self-indulgent. 

We watch McKenzie crash crypto events, expose potential charlatans and testify before Congress. I don't know enough about the topic to know which side is right and which is wrong, and you don't need to take a side to enjoy the film. You can be agnostic and appreciate McKenzie's genuine journalistic inquiry and get swept up in this obvious labor of love from an appealing guy. 

BONUS TRACK

From the end credits, "Joining a Cult" by Annika Norlin:

A Peek at Bleak Week

 

The Guild Cinema is participating in the downer of a global film festival, Bleak Week, with grim movies that are probably best viewed in pairs, lest the dark clouds of the soul overcome you. 

Bleak Week features some legendary titles -- about 300 of them, according to the AP -- from which independent cinemas can cherry-pick for screening during the coming week. We were there at the Guild to kick it off with a re-viewing of "Werckmeister Harmonies," the Bela Tarr epic from 2000. From its opening 11-minute single-shot scene -- and using just 39 leisurely paced shots across 140 minutes -- Tarr (who died earlier this year) and co-director Agnes Hranitsky examine the irrational actions of ignorant towns-folk who don't take kindly to a circus that is brought to town. 

"Werckmeister Harmonies" hits a little different two decades later -- now that we are living in a world of destructive know-nothings dismantling civil society. Lars Rudolph, as the sad-sack hero Janos, who sees the arrival of a whale exhibit as a wondrous example of God's work. The fluid camerawork results in some gorgeous revelations as scenes unfold glacially. It's a wonder of visual choreography. There is definitely a pall cast over this black-and-white Hungarian landscape, but the glimmers of humanity still peek through. If you want truly bleak, check out Tarr's "The Turin Horse."

Other titles at the Guild include one of our favorites, Werner Herzog's '70s romp "Stroszek," plus the 7-plus-hour "Satantango" (considered Tarr's masterpiece) and the "shocking" "Christiane F."

BONUS TRACK

From a key scene, "Valuska" by Vig Mihaly:

 

And another from Mihaly, "Kesz Az Egesz (It's All Done)":

New to the Queue

 New day rising ...

 

Glasgow residents rise up in an impromptu protest to protect immigrant neighbors from a police roundup, "Everybody to Kenmure Street."

Every generation gets the "Bonnie and Clyde" or "Natural Born Killers" it deserves: "Carolina Caroline."

Ahmir "Questlove" Thompson ("Summer of Soul") flashes back again for the biography of "Earth, Wind & Fire (To be Celestial vs. That's the Weight of the World)."

A randy 20-something and her depressed mother find themselves at an exotic couples resort, "Honeyjoon." 

A documentary about the Beatles-adjacent record producer to the '70s stars, "Peter Asher, Everywhere Man." 

BONUS TRACK

Our title track, from Husker Du's album of the same name:

On the Fringe

 

BLACKBIRD BLACKBIRD BLACKBERRY (2024) (B+) - 48-year-old Etero seems to enjoy her independent life of relative solitude. She has no man to take care of; her oppressive father and brother have died; and she enjoys a big slab of cake whenever she wants. She has a near-death experience while out picking blackberries, and so she feels bold enough to begin a fling with the kind man who delivers cleaning products to her modest store in rural Georgia.

 

Etero (Eka Chavleishvilli) is overweight and masculine looking, but she gives up her virginity to a married man, Murman (Temiko Chichinadze), who eventually accepts a change in his route, putting their fling on hiatus. Etero is wide-eyed but wary of all those around her, especially the Greek chorus of biddies she hangs out with. She seems to have been object of curiosity her whole life, since her mother died in childbirth. The struggles taking care of her father and brother are mostly hinted at. 

 Director Elene Neveriani (writing with two others) spends nearly two hours peeling away the layers of her stoic heroine. I was reminded of Kate Chopin's novel The Awakening. Neveriani does not shy away from middle-aged nudity and the sexual antics of her ordinary stars. Her camera also alights on the the little wonders of nature, including the blackberries and blackbirds that give the film its title.

Chavleishvilli carries the film on her shoulders, as Etero always has a sharp comment to defuse a situation, no matter the context. A potential crisis arises late in the film, and her journey to the big city of Tbilisi appears to be the character's first ever adventure outside of her bubble. Of course, she insists on going it alone. She still fiercely guards her independence, but we now know that her walls are not impenetrable. 

ALL DIRT ROADS TASTE OF SALT (2023) (B) - It rains a lot in this tone poem that cycles through the memory of a woman from girlhood to middle age.  It's all about atmosphere and random sounds and the touch of loved ones -- the types of images that your brain might fire off when looking back at your life. 

This is the debut feature of Raven Jackson, who clearly has a eye for powerful visuals. She is partial to intense close-ups, partial faces, characters' hands, the patter of rain -- lots of rain -- the bathing of a baby in the kitchen sink. It's as if she was able to capture her own dreams or flashes of memory from a therapy session. The sum total of all the dialogue in the film might fill about five pages of a script. 

 

Jackson might try your patience as she jumps back and forth in time across 92 minutes as she unspools the life of Mack (played by Kaylee Nicole Johnson as a youth, Charleen McClure as an adult) in the rural South. We track an on-again/off-again relationship with a would-be soulmate, Wood, and piece together the other highlights of her life, from an opening scene fishing with her father to her time approaching middle age.

The centerpiece is a wordless eight-minute scene between Mack and Wood. In the middle of that scene, a hug that lasts three minutes, an eternity on screen. That interlude, along with a scene of young Mack's parents dancing in the house to and R&B dusty, can bring to mind Charles Burnett's foundational independent film "Killer of Sheep." In the end, Jackson does not quite have the command that Burnett had and his confidence in crafting a compelling narrative. 

BONUS TRACKS

The climax of "Blackbird" features a variation on the Georgian song "Gamodi," here interpreted by Georgia's alternative-music artist Robi Kukhianidze of the punk band Outsider:

 

The soundtrack also features a Big Band-era song called "Gamodi" by Lili Gegelia:

 

"All Dirt Roads" features a luminous scene of young Mack's parents dancing to "If I Were Your Woman" by Gladys Knight & the Pips:

The Watchdogs

 

STEAL THIS STORY, PLEASE! (A) - This pristine profile of the dogged reporter Amy Goodman and her 30-year radio polemic "Democracy Now" is also an urgent ode to old-fashioned shoe-leather journalism. It provides a polished gloss to Goodman's gritty low-fi style across a career holding the powerful accountable.

 

Directed by the distinguished team of Carl Deal (Michael Moore's longtime producer) and Tia Lessin ("The Janes," "Trouble the Water"), "Steal This Story, Please!" (the title nods to open-source information like the Creative Commons) is a lively retrospective of Goodman's career as a noodge to those in power and the voice of oppressed people the world over. The film starts with her chasing a dodgy Trump official through an airport, an homage to her tenacious reporting methods and her cardio fitness.

Deal and Lessin then ground Goodman's back story in her harrowing reporting from the front lines of the 1991 siege of East Timor by Indonesia's military junta. Goodman and her producer, Allan Nairn, were attacked, and 271 democracy protesters died in gunfire. Archival footage from that event and from "Democracy Now's" fledgling early days propel the narrative, while talking heads fill in blanks and tell compelling stories. Key colleagues -- Juan Gonzalez (whose roots going back to student activism are chronicled here), Nermeen Shaikh, Jeremy Scahill and Sharif Abdel Kouddous -- bear witness to the many struggles and successes of the seat-of-the-pants operation that started out with 9 affiliates and now is carried by 1,400 radio and TV stations worldwide.

At the core is Goodman, a disciple of Phil Donahue, and a beacon of pure journalistic integrity, if there ever was one, albeit one with an aggressively progressive political leaning. There is no doubting her devotion; long based in New York City, her studio was just a few blocks away from the Twin Towers during the 9/11 attacks, and she insisted on hunkering down amid the dust and smoke, lest she leave and not be let back into the restricted area. She has no compunction about hounding the first President Bush and asking him what he thinks of being labeled a war criminal. When President Clinton phones the studio for a a few minutes of pre-scripted Election Day get-out-the-vote happy talk, Goodman harangues him for a half hour, pushing his buttons at every turn -- creating riveting news that every other radio hack ignored.

Every moment of the 98-minute running time is essential, entertaining, and thought-provoking. You might disagree with Goodman's politics, but I don't know how you can take issue with her watchdog bona fides. The film provides example after example of journalistic courage and integrity, and by silent comparison, indicts the rest of the media landscape in America. "Steal This Film" has the zing of Michael Moore's polemic exercises but ditches the whimsy for matters of life-or-death, such as her expose of Chevron's deadly dealings with Nigeria's military. 

Despite all the heavy topics, Goodman's plucky personality buoys the film. We bop along with her and her faithful dog Zazu (named not for the "Lion King" character but for the French youth who resisted Nazi occupation in World War II) as she shows no sign of slowing down as she approaches age 70. (Goodman and Zazu are touring the country with the film, stopping in Albuquerque for two screenings Memorial Day weekend, and speaking eloquently after the matinee.) As a pal used to say while promoting "Democracy Now" on the local public radio station, where Goodman's production followed his music show -- and with a nod to Modest Mouse -- this is good news for people who love bad news.

MUSCLE BEACH (B-minus) - A movie about muscle-bound meatheads should not be this contemplative and artsy. It all revolves around the mystery of a missing person at Venice Beach and the scourge of illegal drugs circulating among bodybuilders.

 

The chiseled Ike Catcher (above right) stars as Abe, a good guy beloved on the boardwalk who is hunting for clues about the disappearance of his best friend, Jay. Does it have something to do with the tainted drugs going around? Or perhaps a shady real estate deal? 

Writer-director Jacob Hurwitz-Goodman, in his feature debut, teams with cinematographer Doug Frerichs to capture the people and the vibe of Venice Beach's mix of bodybuilders, tourists, freaks, and vendors. They have a keen eye for trippy visuals, luxuriating over the water and sky. They also mix in retro footage from bodybuilder competitions and other ephemera. And their camera loves Catcher, who is a bumbling but charming mix of Lou Ferrigno and Arnold Schwarzenegger, with the handsome looks and towering physique of Aaron Judge.  

Abe glad-hands and back slaps with some authentic iron-pumpers at Muscle Beach (this is often a quasi-documentary), and he makes time with Jay's bitter abandoned baby mama, Alice (a wonderfully snarky Lindsey Normington from "Anora"). He also schmoozes with dealmaker Chase, played by Kirk Baltz, who will go down in film history for his role as the cop tortured by Michael Madsen in "Reservoir Dogs."

The story sometimes has the thin feel of a made-for-TV gumshoe flick, but Hurwitz-Goodman has an ear for off-kilter dialogue, and the core cast is totally dialed in. It's worth straying off the beaten path to experience this curiosity.

BONUS TRACKS

The trailers: