The glory days of New York City punk and the death of a Rolling Stone and a Sex Pistol - Drew Rowsome
The glory days of New York City punk and the death of a Rolling Stone and a Sex Pistol 1 Aug 2022
by Drew Rowsome- photos courtesy of Danny Garcia
Musical genres turn over fast enough that recent hits are now ancient history. '80s pop music, just easing out of a nostalgic revival, is now as distant from us as Glenn Miller was from the pop music consumers of the '80s. Max's Kansas City and the refreshing blast of punk rock, mutating quickly to splinter into new wave and hardcore and the spaces in between, was over by 1981. That doesn't in any way diminish its influence. Or our fascination with that point in time.
In the late '60s to the early '80s, as Nightclubbing: The Birth of Punk Rock in NYC explains, there were two clubs where bands and artists were creating new music, genres and an entire scene: Max's Kansas City and CBGB. As CBGB lasted decades longer, it's influence is more diverse, but Nightclubbing makes a compelling case that Max's Kansas City was, as the title says, the birthplace of punk rock in NYC. Max's began as a restaurant that became a hangout for the Warhol crowd, The Factory was just down the street. Warhol's reputation drew more artists and musicians and soon Max's was the place to see and be seen. The list of stars who hung out and table hopped is mind-boggling. Anywhere that Debbie Harry, pre-Blondie, was a waitress, gives an indication of the calibre of star power.
Filmmaker Danny Garcia (Stiv: No Compromise No Regrets) interviews many of the regulars from that time and intersperses it will miraculous footage of now legendary bands getting their start. The tale they tell is fascinating and full of factoids and anecdotes. Max's is where Lou Reed got his start with The Velvet Underground, David Bowie met Iggy Pop, the New York Dolls met Malcolm McLaren, Patti Smith fused poetry and rock n roll, The Cramps bombed, Bruce Springsteen and Aerosmith signed their first record contracts, Jayne County punched out Dick Manitoba, and Sid Vicious played his first and final solo shows. That is a lot of popular music history concentrated in one place. Garcia interviews Alice Cooper who also forged a career and persona on the stage at Max's. Cooper has entertaining tales to tell and Billy Idol offers commentary, but it is the less well known but more notorious Max's denizens that have the dirt. Most entertaining of all is, no surprise, Jayne County whose potty mouth has no filter. The clips of her on stage are revelatory. County deserves an entire documentary/retrospective of her own.
The only problem with Nightclubbing is that the many clips, which are extraordinary, do not have the music included. It is an incredible experience to see a young Iggy Pop in full flight, and Johnny Thunders in full descent but our ears ache to hear them. We are told about Willie DeVille and his astonishing voice but don't get to listen to it. I suspect that the licensing rights were either too expensive or withheld by artists who have moved on from their days at Max's, happy to have that touch of scandal as their roots, but not willing to pay anything back and tarnish their future. There are many live performance clips but, aside from Jayne County, they are from artists that while quite good, were never to achieve lift off. Garcia does compensate with animation and keeping the pace moving. The cartoon version of how Dee Dee Ramone's penis became scarred, is alone worth the price of admission.
The same lack of music in the score drags down Garcia's Rolling Stone: Life and Death of Brian Jones. Seeing Jones play the revolutionary and hooky marimba track while recording "Under My Thumb" is exhilarating, but it is a good thing that the song played in my mind as it was sorely missing from the film. The Rolling Stones are now in their sixth decade of being the 'bad boys' of popular music and it makes sense that they would recoil from their hits being used in service of the legendary Brian Jones. They very quickly moved on just before his death in order to establish the Mick and Keith show. Rolling Stone is still a fascinating film, sketching in Jones's early life, his prowess as a musician and an impregnator, and his struggle within The Rolling Stones, particularly after his drug use became a tool for police and political persecution. There is some home movie footage of Jones in his late teens that is breathtaking, he was whatever the British version of a BelAmi model would be.
Of course Jones met a tragic end that has always been shrouded in mystery and controversy. Here Rolling Stone takes an abrupt turn and becomes a podcast with visual accompaniment. This is also the point where one realizes that Rolling Stone contains an imbalance of academics to people who actually knew Jones. A thorough investigation into Jones's death was never done and, while Rolling Stone more than implies that it was murder, a dogged detective or an investigative journalist might be able to uncover more evidence than the speculation on hand. The official police files are sealed for 75 years so the truth will not be known in our, or Garcia's, lifetime. And as we will have cycled through many Max's-esque eras by then, and the Rolling Stones will no longer be rolling, it may not have any relevance or interest.
Another who died tragically young gets the Garcia treatment and there is, halle-fucking-lujah, a treasure trove of clips. Sid: The Final Curtain is shorter and simpler than the other two films. As short and simple as Vicious's solo career which Sid chronicles. The story is a tragic and complicated one but Vicious definitely had the charisma, the 'it' factor. With a bit more talent, and a lot less Nancy and heroin, he might have survived to be a star. But we have to settle for this footage of him in all his shambolic glory. It is a gift. Sid: The Final Curtain makes the very valid point that most of us have our memories, our perception, of Vicious based on Gary Oldman's incendiary portrayal in Sid and Nancy. But, as the saying goes, there is nothing like the real thing.
All three films are being screened in a Danny Garcia mini-retrospective presented by Gary Topp. Nighclubbing on a double bill with Sid:The Final Curtain screen twice on Monday, August 15, Rolling Stone screens twice on Tuesday, August 16, at the Paradise Theatre, 1006c Bloor St W. paradiseonbloor.com
Of course Jones met a tragic end that has always been shrouded in mystery and controversy. Here Rolling Stone takes an abrupt turn and becomes a podcast with visual accompaniment. This is also the point where one realizes that Rolling Stone contains an imbalance of academics to people who actually knew Jones. A thorough investigation into Jones's death was never done and, while Rolling Stone more than implies that it was murder, a dogged detective or an investigative journalist might be able to uncover more evidence than the speculation on hand. The official police files are sealed for 75 years so the truth will not be known in our, or Garcia's, lifetime. And as we will have cycled through many Max's-esque eras by then, and the Rolling Stones will no longer be rolling, it may not have any relevance or interest.
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