DVD review - Everyday Sunshine: The Story of Fishbone (2010)

Eclectic democracy may not sell albums, but it makes for groundbreaking music

I remember when I first heard Fishbone. The heady mix of ska, punk, and anarchy of Party At Ground Zero blew me away. I followed them avidly up through Give a Monkey a Brain and He'll Swear He's the Center of the Universe and then watched the band seem to fall apart as original members left. All of this resonated as Everyday Sunshine: The Story of Fishbone approached Fishbone's career as a band that never achieved the commercial success they deserved.

Ultimately, Everyday Sunshine can't deliver a happy ending or even an unequivocal, uplifting sentiment because that's not how history played out. Instead, Lev Anderson and Chris Metzler offer testimonials to the band's influence and a character study of Fishbone's magic. They also outline the band's history and travails. There's plenty of nostalgia, but it's tempered with the raw emotions and tensions within the band.

Anderson and Metzler had wide open access to Fishbone's members. So, much of the early history of the band comes straight from the source. It's not surprising that desegregation busing had a huge effect on opening up their horizons, exposing them to punk music like their white classmates. On the other hand, it's hard to reconcile Angelo Moore's non-hood, Jehovah's Witness youth with the wild stage presence he developed. These interviews provide a sense of the personalities in the band.

The peak of Everyday Sunshine's positivity comes from the musings of Fishbone's peers and famous fans, like Mike Watt (Minutemen), Gwen Stefani (No Doubt), Branford Marsalis, and Ice-T. They make the case for Fishbone's impact on not just the L.A. punk scene, but the music scene in general. By bridging race lines and breaking stereotypes of black music, they breathed a wild life into the music and opened doors for bands like Living Color. As Ice=T mentions, "It might not have sounded black. It was very black, if you listen to what they're saying." The archive band footage shows off the incredible energy of their live shows.

But Everyday Sunshine also makes the point that Fishbone's strength was their biggest weakness. Their stage show was full of exuberant anarchy. They packed their albums with a melting pot of sounds. But their eclectic musical democracy and unique style made them hard for the record companies to package, which denied them access to a wider audience. This sets up the sad list of travails for the band.

From guitarist Kendall Jones' breakdown and religious rebirth (which led to kidnapping charges against Norwood Fisher) to the erosion of the original lineup, it's hard to sit through the frustration and rancor within the band. Once again, Anderson and Metzler's full access exposes pettiness and anger borne out of the band's sense of loss. Eventually, Fishbone seems to devolve into Moore and Norwood Fisher as an ersatz married couple, trying to find a balance but often slipping into bickering passive aggression.

Still, Fishbone has persevered through the stress of touring and still seem focused on working together. By the end, their characters seem familiar: Norwood Fisher's grounded sense of calm, Angelo Moore's artistic hunger, Dirty Walt Kibby II's provocative humor, and Chris Dowd's regular guy charm. Kendall Jones is more of an enigma. We see his serious side in commercial interview snippets and a lot of darkness in short archive scenes from the studio. It's hard to relate that to the shy, post-breakdown persona from more recent footage. Since Phillip "Fish" Fisher is still estranged from the band and didn't participate, we never get his perspective.

Everyday Sunshine gives a realistic view of a great band whose influence spread well beyond their own direct accomplishments. Occasionally the narrative gets confused as the editing sacrifices linear flow to make a point (when is this band member interview from?), but the film never looks away from the real humanity of the Fishbone's core.

Everyday Sunshine: The Story of Fishbone releases on DVD this month (21 February, pre-order here) and is available on iTunes now.

DVD review - The Other F Word (2011)

Punk rock parenthood is not so different than the normal kind



The Other F Word is "fatherhood". Andrea Blaugrund Nevins' documentary took its inspiration from Jim Lindberg's 2007 book, Punk Rock Dad: No Rules, Just Real Life. Where Lindberg showcased his punk perspective on parenting, The Other F Word digs deeper into what fatherhood really means.

While the multitude of on-screen interviews with punk icons form a great hook, the heart of the documentary is more universal. Any parent watching this will recognize themselves. They'll think of their lifestyle before the kids and how they've reconciled their own formative years with the responsibilities of parenthood. They may not be covered with ink or be touring with the band, but they still have to balance their rebellious youth against their parental role and their job demands against time with the family. The difference may be more a matter of degree.

TOFW anchors itself to Jim Lindberg, shifting between his family time and touring with Pennywise. But other big names get plenty of screen time, too. Art Alexakis (Everclear), Fat Mike (NOFX), Flea (Red Hot Chili Peppers), and Brett Gurewitz (Bad Religion) are among the crowd of men offering their own views and various strategies. Fat Mike talks about how he and his wife weren't going to let parenthood change them. On the other hand, Ron Reyes (Black Flag) dropped out completely from his old lifestyle.

The documentary hits four distinct themes. The first two are about the punk scene, both the early days and today. There's a spark in recapping the early days, with the dark side of losing friends offset by the powerful feeling these guys got from the music. That contrasts with the maturity of the scene today, where the bands are faced with what they need to do to make a living. The other two themes cover the parenting side. There's a common thread of their absent or disconnected fathers and wanting to do a better job. Finally, the guys talk more about their own experiences in being a father.

Along the way, there are a host of soundbites that nail the dichotomy of punk parenthood:

The dominatrixes on my arm? The one tied up with a ball gag? I don't know. How do you explain that to a four year old? - Fat Mike

I went to volunteer at the school one time. I went up to the school for something and had no idea that I was wearing a shirt that said "Fuck the police" on it. Like, I was just that clueless - Jack Grisham (TSOL)

But the emotional moments are the real feast here, like Flea's perspective on parental responsibility and his bond with his daughters - My kids gave me life...they gave me a reason - or Duane Peters (U.S. Bombs) talking about the loss of his son, Chess.

This love and connection bridges the differences between these punk dads and the rest of us parents. I dabbled with punk as a 20-something and I still play music out. I'm faced with same decisions about balancing work and time with my son. While a younger me couldn't have imagined being a dad, today my son is a fundamental part of who I am. I may try to be the "cool dad", but at the same time, I feel a responsibility to help my son become the man he deserves to be.

I'm raising my son the way I wish I'd been raised. Someone said to me the other day, "I wish you were my father" and I go "Me, too. I wish I was my father, too." - Art Alexakis

The Other F Word is playing in theaters this November and December.

DVD review - Still Bill (2010)

Like any movie, a documentary has a story arc. In Still Bill, the focus is on the talented Bill Withers dealing with detachment and his journey to reconnecting, both with music and his past. The story line is compelling, but it misses the point that Bill Withers is already incredibly grounded. His insight into himself and his times are both deeply personal and universal.

Bill Withers was an unlikely star: he came from a small coal mining town in West Virginia, he was already in his 30s, and he was working in a factory when his music took off. Right off the bat, he had a breakaway hit with Ain't No Sunshine in 1971. Grandma's Hands from the same album was also a strong single. The title of that first album, Just as I Am, was fitting. In Still Bill, we're treated to bits of interviews from this period, where he proved to be self deprecating, witty, and thoroughly comfortable in his own skin.

This confident character is one he developed on his own, overcoming a stuttering problem and escaping his small town life by joining the Navy. The filmmakers, Damani Baker and Alex Vlack, use an interesting technique for introducing us to Withers. They edit the footage and voice overs so that it's often hard to tell whether a particular quote is coming from the younger man or the older one. Both men are genuinely interesting people, less interested in fulfilling a stereotype than staying true to a personal ideal.

All the favorite songs get their due, from Lean On Me to Use Me to Just the Two of Us. But Still Bill also spends a lot of time showing a view of Withers' life today. Vlack and Baker lay the groundwork for that story arc with quotes from Withers, like:

I have to be careful that I don't just wallow in my own comfort. Probably now, I'm trying to find some motivation. I'm not lazy. I don't even understand. I'm trying to give myself a chance to get driven. Where just the sheer activity of doing something just jacks you up, makes you excited.

or the even starker:

Thoreau said that the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. I would like to know how it feels for my desperation to get louder.

Along with this, they follow him back to his hometown in West Virginia, as well as introducing his wife and two children. This makes it clear: Withers may have detached himself from the music business, but you can see the results of the energy he's put into his family. There are also some great snippets from a filmed conversation between Bill, Dr. Cornell West (civil rights activist), and Tavis Smiley (talk show host/commentator). The most powerful insight into Bill Withers, though, comes with his visit to the Our Time Theatre Company, a theatre troupe for young people that stutter. He talks with the kids and shares his experiences and lessons learned: "If you can value the people who value you..." Seeing his emotional reaction is moving.

The close of the story arc includes a recording session with Raul Midón, Bill recording his daughter, Kori, play a song she's been working on, and finally, Bill sitting in with guitarist Cornell Dupree at a 2008 tribute concert.

Despite these emotional moments, Bill Withers is more interesting than a simple story of reconnection. His depth comes because he's always been connected to himself. I'll close with my favorite quote, even though it's gotten plenty of play already:

One of the things I tell my kids is that it's okay to head out for "wonderful." But on your way to "wonderful", you're going to have to pass through "all right." And when you get to "all right", take a good look around and get used to it because that may be as far as you're going to go.

Complement Still Bill with a full bodied Burgundy when you watch it.

Multimedia review - Ian Curtis and Joy Division

Binging on Ian Curtis and Joy Division is not for the weak of heart or those prone to depression. I recently read Touching From a Distance: Ian Curtis and Joy Division (1995), written by Ian's wife, Deborah Curtis. Then I watched Anton Corbijn's film, Control (2007), which is loosely based on Deborah's book. Finally I watched Grant Gee's documentary, Joy Division (2007).Much like interviewing witnesses to a train wreck, a rough consensus develops, but each recollection has it's own flavor and agenda. They all agree on the basic story. A relatively quiet young guy, obsessed with the glam and punk music of the day, wants to be part of it. He marries young and has a troubled marriage. He becomes the face and voice of a talented band, contributing lyrics and a dark kind of energy. He has an affair and suffers through the impact on his marriage. He develops epilepsy, which has a profound effect on his ongoing depression. He attempts suicide and finally succeeds the day before he and the band are due to tour in America. Everyone around is shocked.

I was fairly familiar with the story back in the early '80s, after listening to Joy Division and New Order, which rose from the ashes. At the time, the common wisdom was that Ian Curtis had history of depression and was unable to cope with the idea of success. The part of about depression rings true, but my sense out of all of this is that things were not so simple.

Touching From a Distance is interesting because Deborah had a lot more private knowledge of Ian, both his past and his time with the band. Of course, given the conflicts caused by Ian's infidelity and moodiness (plus any normal marital strife), it can't all be taken at face value. Still, Deborah Curtis paints an image of an interesting man: depressive but social within his own network of friends, quiet offstage but a mesmerizing performer, angry and tortured but emotionally invested in his civil service job, and a follower of the nascent punk scent that created a large part of the post punk new wave aesthetic. She seems to come to the conclusion that Ian Curtis had a longtime fascination with death and that his suicide was almost pre-ordained. She points to an early overdose experience in his youth and his lyrical imagery as evidence.

Even though Control is loosely based on Deborah Curtis' biography, it's more of a muddle. This story is too complicated if the book is followed closely, so Anton Corbijn sacrifices much of the explanatory history in order to hit the highlights. It's a whirlwind tour of concerts, a marriage, recording, and an affair. Sam Riley has the right look and captures Ian's mood swings, but he doesn't have enough of a narrative to help the audience get him. The only thing Corbijn successfully emphasizes is the distance between Ian and Deborah. In this view, Ian is tired, desperate, and depressed. Suicide has become his only escape. While this was the weakest of these three pieces, the music is what saves it. There's some great old songs on the soundtrack and the actors do a passable job of covering Joy Division's live performances.

Grant Gee's documentary is richer than Control and offers a good contrast to Touching From a Distance. Joy Division is more band focused and is built on a combination of interviews and band footage. It does a great job of explaining the music scene at the time and giving a sense of how Joy Division influenced that post punk era. The recollections don't always mesh perfectly, but they seem coherent. Ian is portrayed more a regular guy than just a tortured artist. The band and others talk about his sense of humor and moxie. There's much less emphasis on his epilepsy, but that may be because he downplayed that despite his onstage seizures. There's more attention on his girlfriend, Annik Honore, including some brief screen time. Interestingly, Deborah Curtis is never interviewed or shown, although some quotes from her book are included. In this view, Ian's suicide is seen more as either a stupid accident or a way to keep from holding back the band.

So, what's the truth? It won't be found here or in any other book. Given Ian's depression and all of the stress he was going through, it probably wasn't so much a long time plan as an immediate escape. The real point of all of this is to listen to Joy Division. Hear the driving tension of Transmission or She's Lost Control. Listen to Love Will Tear Us Apart and wonder why no one saw the end coming. Sip some Irish coffee and savor the bittersweet sound of Isolation.