Hello 2014 and Big Star movie

As the credits roll at the end of what is arguably the greatest human achievement ever, upon which civilizations, religions, philosophies, etc., can and should be built - "This Is Spinal Tap" - Michael McKean, in his hilarious portrayal of the fictional band's lead singer and guitarist David St. Hubbins (the patron saint of quality footwear) responds to the question of what he would be doing with his life if it weren't for rock and roll with "I dunno. Probably be a full time dreamer." Well, that is definitely a sentiment I (and I would venture many more of you out there) can relate to very well. I mean, isn't the thing that grabs us at a young age and leaves its indelible footprint on our souls, like when concrete is first poured and is beginning to harden, the thing that makes the most lasting impression, regardless of whatever else we go on to do with our time here on Earth? Isn't each and every one of us, to borrow another wonderful Tap moment, (also from that same series of interviews during the credits), part preserved moose?

Well, in this spirit, and as another middle-aging Gen X-er whose love/obsession for all things rock and roll - with a focus on the "Golden Age" of the middle 1960's through the middle 1970's - I submit to you another music blog and welcome you to the inaugural post. 

Perhaps in this age of information overload and mass media saturation, wherein each of us can only realistically access a tiny fraction of what is out there as far as music, film, books, etc., it seems more likely than ever that more and more of the "worthy" ones are going to fall through the cracks, i.e., remain in relative, if not total, obscurity, perhaps to be "discovered" eventually someday. This is of course nothing new in art (look at folks like Mozart and Van Gogh for crying out loud!). As far as rock and roll/popular music bands/artists, it seems more and more similar stories are popping up and gaining notoriety, e.g. the Oscar winning "Searching for Sugar Man" http://www.sonyclassics.com/searchingforsugarman/ documentary about the discovery and resurgence of Sixto Rodriguez, and the much less acclaimed but no less worthy documentary about singer-songwriter Emitt Rhodes "The One Man Beatles" https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-One-Man-Beatles/194683281519. We love stories like this, about people who deserved more success during the time they were doing whatever it is they do and, at least on the surface, seem like victims of circumstances beyond their control (although perhaps they also had a role in how things turned out), and then are discovered later on and given their due recognition. For those who have passed on, this is their way of achieving immortality, perhaps small compensation for what they had to endure while alive, but redemptive and vindicating nevertheless.

In rock and roll, there are countless stories like this, and there are going to be more and more books, movies, etc., made about these bands/artists (I happen to know at least one very well). A whole cottage industry either already exists, or is in the works, of stories about bands/artists who, in a parallel universe, are well known, appreciated, and adequately compensated for the amazing work they do. 

One of my Christmas gifts this year was the DVD of the film about, as its tag line reads, "the greatest band that never made it." This is of course Big Star, the name of the documentary "Nothing Can Hurt Me," http://www.bigstarstory.com/  which is a line from the Big Star song "Big Black Car," from their third album, which never had an official title, but has been dubbed "3rd" and "Sister Lovers." I first saw this film last April, when it had its Southeast premier during the Florida Film Festival http://www.floridafilmfestival.com/, and, as a big fan of the band ever since the early '90's, when I, along with countless other Gen-X indie rockers, discovered and shortly thereafter came to revere them, I absolutely loved the film. In fact, it exceeded whatever expectations I may have had about it. In fact, such was my mania for it that I resolved to wake up early on Record Store Day a couple weeks later so I could procure the limited edition yellow vinyl version of the soundtrack on Omnivore Recordings, http://omnivorerecordings.com/ (an endeavor which ended up being a five hour wait on line just to get into Park Ave CDs http://www.parkavecds.com/ in Orlando, an experience I vowed not to repeat). 

In the main film, we get the whole backdrop of the late '60's Memphis music scene which ultimately led to Chris Bell, Alex Chilton, Andy Hummel, and (only surviving member) Jody Stephens, working together at Ardent Studios to craft their perfectly realized power pop confections. We are then taken through the making of and circumstances surrounding Big Star's three official albums, all of which are different from each other, but brilliant in their own unique ways, to main songwriters Bell and Chilton's post Big Star careers/endeavors, to the creation of the Big Star cult. Along the way we hear from friends, classmates, collaborators, critics, fellow musicians who continue to carry the Big Star torch, and, most poignantly, family of the band, all of whom contribute important, insightful commentary. One of the most touching and sad moments in the film for me is toward the end when Chris Bell's brother and sister are being interviewed and his sister is tearfully trying to articulate her mixed feelings about her brother's contribution to music at the cost of his no longer being with us, which her brother is able to say for her, something like "You'd rather have him than his music." 

Like so many great stories, it is ultimately about triumph over tragedy (although I can see Alex Chilton's two outstretched middle fingers aimed directly at me from beyond the grave as I write this). Chris Bell, Alex Chilton, and Andy Hummel may be gone forever as physical manifestations, but we will always have the music they made while they were with us. I am not a critic either. I am not going to expound on what the filmmakers could have done "better" with this picture. I have read a few what I consider unfairly lukewarm at best reviews of "Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me," including one from my local rag Orlando Weekly at the time of its Florida Film Festival screening, as well as a recent one in Rolling Stone. In my humble opinion, the film is as worthy an addition to the increasing canon of great rock docs as its subject matter is to the increasing list of great bands/artists whose work deserves all the recognition it never rightfully received during its time and place. I loved it! I learned a lot about one of my favorite bands of all time! I will watch it again and continue to listen to and derive immense pleasure from the music of Big Star.