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Review by Jason Pankoke of MicroFilm Magazine
Chicago Rocks, St. Louis Rolls: Docs on Indie Scenes
From the smallest college towns to the largest teeming metropolis,
underground music ekes out an existence amongst a multiplicity of
cultural diversions. It might be easy to romanticize yet truly hard to
fathom how unsigned, non-radio friendly rock and punk bands attempt to
make ends meet while supporting their creative habits in the studio and
on stage. Except for the frightfully small percentage that are able to
make big label contracts pay off, most bands exude tears and blood over
jockeying for their big break until they either resolve themselves to
sticking with smaller labels and local scenes or simply letting go.
Scott Petersen s Out of the Loop (Headache Productions, 1997, 87
minutes) and Matt Meyer s STL 2000 (IBC Shadows Music, 2001, 104
minutes) make for interesting bedfellows as these low-budget
documentaries grapple with different aspects of rock-and-roll culture.
Petersen, currently a film production consultant in Los Angeles,
interviewed numerous personalities synonymous with Chicago s
mid-Nineties fever pitch when the music industry was branding the Windy
City as their next Seattle. Conversely, Meyer s grittier take captures a
year in the St. Louis punk scene, one that is rife with die-hard
supporters and talent but lacking in momentum or anything close to a
buzz band.
Wisely narrowing his scope to concentrate on the band/label dynamic
percolating in Chicago at the time, Peterson allows Out of the Loop s
colorful menagerie free reign to talk about the ups and downs of the
business. You ll recognize at least some of the featured musicians
whether or not you hail from the Land of Lincoln: The Jesus Lizard, Red
Red Meat, Pulsars, Triple Fast Action, Seam, Sister Machine Gun,
Yum-Yum, Die Warzau, Eleventh Dream Day, and the Wesley Willis Fiasco.
Central to this film are Veruca Salt s Louise Post and Nina Gordon,
whose stories of rough-and-tumble, media-assisted ascent provide
counterbalance to the snails-pace climb of their contemporaries.
Fans familiar with the rigmarole that bands traditionally face will find
nothing particularly new discussed in Out of the Loop, although that
absolutely does not take away from its enjoyment factor. We can forgive
Petersen for mildly doting on then- it girls Post and Gordon, who
enliven their reasonable screen time with sass, insight, and a sweet
acoustic rendition of Good Disaster, an eventual B-side single to
Volcano Girls. Some of the best commentary comes from the outrageously
blunt Steve Albini, one of Chicago s best-known studio engineers who
brandishes fiery independence (and disdain for major label overlording)
at the drop of a hat. Practically all the aforementioned bands also get
a chance to sling anecdotes and advice, from the meat-and-potatoes
grounding of Eleventh Dream Day s Rick Rizzo to the bafflingly cryptic
aura of diagnosed schizophrenic Willis.
Chief among Out of the Loop s other virtues is its generous concert
footage, which affords the film its only glimpse into the bands creative
drive. While it is obvious that Peterson makes copious use of his zoom
lens to add visual variety to several one-man-crew shoots, the vibrancy
of what he captures makes up for the sometimes awkward photography.
Starting with the awesome sight of the Jesus Lizard s David Yow prancing
about the stage of an American Legion hall while crowd surfers float by,
very little of the music is short of magnetic. Petersen taped additional
non-concert renditions of Pulsars Owed to the Devil, a catchy dig on the
industry that nonetheless helped earn brothers Harry and Dave Trumfio a
record contract, and the exquisite Jealous of the Stars, performed by
Chris Holmes off-beat guitar-strings-keyboard combo Yum-Yum.
Additional segments feature rock critics Bill Wyman (ex-Chicago Reader)
and Jim DeRogatis (Chicago Sun-Times) and several club owners
postulating what direction the scene might take. This indirectly feeds
into the primary conflict of interest thread Petersen incorporates, the
purchase of ailing industrial label Wax Trax! by lofty TVT. How does a
corporation deal with taking under its wing an independent known for
treating artists like family and single-handedly birthing a sub-genre
without destroying it? Graceful thoughts on the matter are provided by
Wax Trax! co-founder Dannie Flesher, while faithful label stalwarts
Chris Randell (Sister Machine Gun), Jim Marcus (Die Warzau), and Chris
Conelly (Ministry) spin cautious optimism about how autonomous Flesher
can remain under bureaucratic thumb. Luckily, Wax Trax! persists to this
day with several of its signature artists still on board.
On the other hand, a running gag involving Petersen s futile attempts to
snag Chicago supergroup Smashing Pumpkins for an interview simply draws
attention to the short life spans of most rock bands. Hindsight now
tells us that only Sister Machine Gun regularly releases albums anymore,
while a Gordon-less Veruca Salt and Fiasco-less Willis make waves
sporadically. Chris Holmes dusts off Yum-Yum for occasional club dates
while the durable Eleventh Dream Day continues 20 years of grunge-pop
finesse by playing gigs once in a blue moon. The Pumpkins, the Jesus
Lizard, and Triple Fast Action indeed called it quits, while Seam, Red
Red Meat, Pulsars, and Die Warzau might still be together, but one would
be hard-pressed to know based on all the outdated band bios and fan
pages on-line. Many of these folks probably have marched forth in
subsequent bands or solo efforts, but their presence has diminished
since the heyday. As Scott Giampino of Touch and Go Records quips with a
wistful smile just before the end credits roll, Reality sets in, you
know? Not everybody s gonna be a rock star.
True, but try telling it to the rough-around-the-edges punk quartet
rocking out before dozens of kids in a dank St. Louis basement. With
dust on the floor and sweat salting their eyes in primitive fits of
clamor and fuzz, this is how many groups truly begin. Although its raw
production values pale compared to Out of the Loop, the more recent STL
2000 gamely stitches together a scene portrait with garage-rock spit
that feels more complete than its predecessor in describing what a scene
really is, warts and all. Debut filmmaker Matt Meyer can t help but
ignore the record business angle it seems that dimension doesn t even
exist for this motley crew and instead concentrates on the backbone that
supports such a milieu on the Mississippi.
One thing that Meyer shares with Petersen is a relative unobtrusiveness
in capturing the subject matter. This shows admirable restraint on the
part of Meyer, who is an active member of the St. Louis underground and
has fronted the giddy pop-punk outfit Ded Bugs for several years. Humbly
setting aside any mention of his own band, the director turns his camera
on everyone else from forerunners Ultraman and Whoppers Taste Good
(featured in gloriously faded VHS archive footage) to established acts
like Not Waving But Drowning (hardcore), Sexicolor (power-pop), and The
Trip Daddys (rockabilly). In two lengthy segments we follow high-school
bands with stars in their eyes, Wreckless Angels and The 4sum 5sum. It
is a wiry Angels performance in the aforementioned basement that kicks
things off, while the charismatic 5sums enter a half-baked battle of the
bands.
Whereas most of the personalities in Out of the Loop acted moderately
comfortable on where they stood in their careers at the time, an
underlying frustration permeates STL 2000 s interviewees. Lightly
pressed to offer his opinion on the St. Louis scene, an opinionated fan
in a record store hems and haws before blurting, A lot of good bands,
[but] no one comes to the shows, my friend! Another patron laments that
punk legends Agent Orange could only attract 30 fans during a recent
visit. It seems that the lack of professional progress with the area s
music talent, along with the fleeting presence of major acts passing
through town, has been on many minds lately.
Not that the St. Louis contingent has ever been completely stagnant.
Meyer paces recollections by the likes of Ultraman singer Tim Jamison
and the Ringo-coifed personality Beatle Bob throughout the documentary
that paint a sketchy picture of the city s rock history. The legacy
includes such well-known stars as Chuck Berry and Ike and Tina Turner,
along with more recent major-label acts like The Urge and Gravity Kills.
For the most part, however, gravity has seemingly anchored the scene
into place with little room to move beyond familiar haunts.
Meyer also deposits several nuggets courtesy of the bands supporters to
give his audience an idea of the scene s questionable health. Former
Whoppers Taste Good member Gary Phillips talks frankly about putting out
his music zine Motion Sickness while aged socialite Dancin Bobbie spins
odd tales in the back of a club. Local writer Thomas Crone and radio
jockey Jeff Kopper Kopp give us a look at how community radio station
KDHX 88.1 FM supports St. Louis music unlike the area s commercial
stations. Shannon Hill of the musty dive The Creepy Crawl amusingly
notes how he ll give every band a single chance to strike lightning on
his stage, while Lisa Turallo of The Side Door explains how she feels
bands have to earn their opportunity to play her club. Several groups
are shown hammering away in the Centro Sociale, an artist-run collective
that closes down on Christmas 2000 after a surprise two-year run. Sadly,
this event brings STL 2000 itself to a close, apart from a New Years
2001 toast elsewhere, and it reminds us yet again that even the best
intentions don t necessarily breed longevity.
If Meyer s exposé can be criticized, it is in the respect that he
might
be trying too hard to afford everyone their say in the spirit of giving
this film his do-it-yourself all, like his fellow punks attempt for
their music. Many segments run too long, such as an extremely dry
practice session with Sexicolor and a trip to Steak n Shake with
Wreckless Angels that eavesdrops to little effect. Commentary could have
been safely whittled down to its core in several instances, just as the
numerous concert numbers might have received judicious editing for the
sake of pacing. Given the not-quite-happy tone of the film, dragging
things along only accentuates the negative when it seems that the
director s logical goal is to unearth the multiple diamonds in the rough
and make them sing, so to speak.
What Meyer ultimately provides, with some help from veteran St. Louis
genre filmmakers Eric Stanze and Todd Tevlin (ICE FROM THE SUN,
SCRAPBOOK), is indeed of great value to people living under the shadow
of the Arch or any other scene where the kids complain about making it
better. If people really want to reinvigorate their own cultural
landscape, maybe it takes a hell of a lot more than nursing a beer in
public every once in a while. Just like in Out of the Loop, STL 2000
proves that there s nothing like witnessing glad-to-be-hauling-ass
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