Angel City Media
84 min., dir. by WT Morgan, with John Doe, Exene Cervenka, Billy Zoom, and DJ Bonebreak

After coming to the conclusion that writing a review that simply said Just go buy this was kinda pretentious (and also that despite their 30-plus years in existence as a band, there might be some folks who still have no idea who the hell X is), I opted for the standard type of review.

If you haven’t heard the band X, try to conjure up what an electrified and broke-assed Woody Guthrie would sound like if he had lived in a seedy Los Angeles apartment, drank cheap wine, ate cheap junk food, and listened to Leadbelly, ’60s garage rock, and lots of punk. And honestly, that still doesn’t do the band any descriptive justice.

Now, in case their history is unknown to you, X started out in Los Angeles back in 1979. The band was then and still is as follows: John Doe on bass and vocals, Exene Cervenka on vocals, Billy Zoom on guitar, and DJ Bonebreak on drums. Along with bands like The Alley Cats, Fear, Circle Jerks, The Bags, Black Flag, The Germs, and a mess of others, started punk rock in LA. X stood apart from most of the herd because they could play their instruments well and had a surf/punk/folk/rockabilly sound that further separated them from the others. Add the stand-still guitar work of Zoom, the mentally fading, Asian cat lady-esque harmonies of Exene, and the band’s often ironic, gritty street poems for lyrics, and you’re looking at Americana from the other side of the tracks. Simply fucking beautiful — bad teeth, ill-fitting clothes, and all.

Oh. The review.

The DVD is a re-release of the 1986 film, and as with any DVD re-release, you’ve got to check out the bonus material first, right? The extra footage for The Unheard Music is of Exene and John giving their take on the movie, their songs, Hollywood in the early ’80s, snippets of how X formed and was signed, and just life in general. There’s also interviews with Angel City Media who made the film, the theatrical trailer (eh, kind of a mandatory part of the bonus crud) and an outtake/alternative shot of the song “Some Other Time.” The dialogues are cool, the song outtake is cool, and the trailer is cool (as far as trailers for movies go).

So overall? Cool.

The off-kilter vibe of the band and the LA scene is perfectly captured right off the bat with the reading  of a letter from a slightly unstable fan. That leads into live footage of the song “Los Angeles” and the blowing up of the legendary Hollywood sign. Seriously…with that type of intro, whether you know the band or not, you sort of know where this ride’s going, and you know it’s going to be big fun.

After that, the film consists of band recollections about the early LA scene and its dirty birth followed by a history lesson on the band, montages of still pictures, and classic TV ads, all interspersed with well-shot, live footage (17 songs total).

The film itself is incredible — amazingly shot, stellar visual concepts, funny, tight editing — just a perfectly executed film. Part art film, part live concert film, part social commentary, part history lesson, part documentary, part music video, all essential.

(Music Video Distributors, PO Box 280, Oaks, PA 19456)

I’ve always enjoyed Mogwai, but I have to confess that up until this film, I don’t think I’ve listened to more than two tracks consecutively. Burning is a concert film, stripped down to the absolute basics. Gone are any distractions of tour footage and behind the scenes looks. In fact, on several tracks, the audience is kept out of frame completely. Indeed, for the first few numbers one begins to think there might not be one at all. And this is what makes Burning an interesting film.

Because its focus is so direct, the audience is asked to consider each choice more than they normally would. For lack of note-taking during the screening (I find it too distracting), I can’t remember which moments gelled with which songs. And given my unfamiliarity with the music, the track names don’t resonate to me. However, I think this gave me an added benefit during the screening. Instead of thinking in terms of the songs I know or don’t know, I could instead follow the direction of the camera. If not a narrative, a story is told through the careful placement of each image. One song may be dominated by close-up images of the fretboard, fingers working up and down to create a landscape of sound. In these moments, one’s ear is visually drawn to focus on each presented aspect of the song. It allows (or damn near forces) one to approach the music differently. When suddenly the audience is brought in, it is accompanied by the first signs of smiles from the musicians. The song is chosen as the moment the band feels the audience connect — when they emerge from their cocoon of concentration and invite the social aspect of live music into the playing field.

The film starts with grainy black and white footage — for a while, I was waiting for it to break away and accept a more traditional concert approach — the usual sweeping crane shots of the band in all their stadium rocking glory. Thankfully, Burning is a smart enough project to never fall for that trap. It remains consistent and artistic.

For fans of Mogwai, this film is surely a delight. For those who are less aware of their work, this is not the worst place to jump in. It reveals the band as being capable of quite a lot, and shows them in an environment that evaluates their music — both in the visual choices of the medium and in the inclusion of an audience. I can’t imagine sitting down and watching this intensely a second time. But I’m not sure that’s at all what this film is about. Instead, I imagined it projected on a screen, sound system cranked to its most clear and hard-hitting, as the backdrop to a party. In this atmosphere, I can’t imagine much else filling as perfectly. But, like all concert films, beyond representing the bands ability — there is nothing more to be said.

As early as their third studio album, the direction that they would grow became clear. Appropriately utilizing their considerable talents as an accomplished, diverse collection of proficient musicians, the kings of Celtic punk began branching out into a more adult-alternative influenced sound; while the rowdy punk anthems never disappeared, songs like “Factory Girls” from Within a Mile of Home (featuring Lucinda Williams, fittingly) and “The Story So Far” from Float provided a mix of folk, alternative, and country — with just a hint of punk — that would fit in nicely on NPR.

I’ve always considered Flogging Molly to be a live band first and foremost, and they had no problem incorporating the more mid-tempo material into their sets; with a barrage of raucous crowd-pleasers to deploy whenever necessary (“Salty Dog,” “What’s Left of the Flag,” “Seven Deadly Sins,” “Black Friday Rule,” etc.) there was no trouble dropping a “Tomorrow Comes A Day Too Soon” or an “If I Ever Leave This World Alive” into the set. They are masterful and magnificent on stage — one friend of mine who never particularly cared about them saw a performance and was instantly converted.

Capturing an experience like that, however, is tricky. The stated aim of their new live package, Live at the Greek Theatre, is to present both a gift to loyal fans and an introduction to first-time listeners. The first goal, unmistakably, is met: the two-disc album and DVD of the same name captures a typically entertaining show, covering the whole of the band’s catalogue thoroughly and throwing in a few unexpected gems as well (“The Wrong Company,” an excellent acoustic “The Sun Never Shines (On Closed Doors”). The DVD looks good, and has fine extras, including the band’s entire music video catalog.

However, serious fans had already been given an elaborate gift in the form of 2006’s Whiskey on a Sunday, a documentary DVD accompanied by a disc of rarities and live tracks. Furthermore, Flogging Molly fans — myself included — know how great the live show is, and will be loyal whether or not we’re presented with a “thank you” compilation every few years.

As such, I can’t help but feel that the true targets of Live at the Greek Theater are the uninitiated. It seems that these discs are meant to serve not only as an illustration of the live show, but as a greatest hits compilation; I can’t think of many missing items from the 22-track set list, and with the videos on the DVD, the studio sound is represented as well. I think that what we are meant to do with this set is buy it for our unenlightened pals.

Evaluating it on those grounds is trickier. For one thing, punk never lends itself well to live recording. Punk concerts are meant to present an overwhelming wall of sound — furious music fired out of walls of speakers in an energizing wave. Compressing that to your car stereo (or worse, your laptop) robs the experience of its power, and inevitably sounds muddled and harried compared to studio recordings. This is true of almost every live punk album, even among the titans of the genre — try to honestly enjoy The Clash’s Live: From Here to Eternity if you don’t believe me.

That it’s a funny way to introduce someone to a band like Flogging Molly is my point — especially when each of their studio albums is a minor classic in its own right. Furthermore, quantity is not always the best thing on an introductory package; two discs of music, a DVD (of the same performance), and a boatload of extras are a lot for a new fan.

I could be wrong about this supposed intention. Perhaps the idea with Live at the Greek Theater was simply to release the best live set possible. And it is thoroughly enjoyable, with a number of truly remarkable moments. Fans — who continue to be treated extraordinarily well by this band — will be thrilled, and should certainly indulge in this collection. If you’re trying to get someone into Flogging Molly, don’t bother with this, though. Give them a copy of Swagger or Within a Mile of Home —  or better yet, just take them to the show.

(Side One Dummy Records, 1944 N. Cahuenga Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90068)

Label ‘em “classic rock,” label ‘em “old,” label ‘em “pub rock,” label ‘em “proto-punk” (but don’t label ‘em “glam” or “glitter”), pffft…whatever. These dudes just flat-out rocked. Pint-raising, straight up rock and roll for the working yobs. This disc gives you the all-out history of the band from day one to the end and beyond.

Mott were swagger, no frills rock and roll. Period. They could get all hard-edged, Chuck Berry chord-based punchy rock on your ass one minute, making you smile and drink and bob your head with your mates — and then slowly pull out your guts with a ballad of unmasked emotion and not come off as a group of total simps. Just real and true working class guys who played in a “your level” band.

The DVD has lots of memories and recollections from interviews with those closest to the band like, well, the band themselves, engineers and producers of albums by the band, and fans of the band including Mick Jones of Clash fame, and many music journalists.

Lots of video and film of the band from their very start, up through their acquiring Ian Hunter as their singer, through the burnout of constant touring and putting out four full-lengths in two years, their resurgence and rebirth after recording the David Bowie (a big fan) song “All The Young Dudes,” and the eventual stardom and break-up. Although, for as much video interviews there are and dudes chatting up about Mott, their greatness and the history and personal Mott moments (and all that shit is really cool), there wasn’t anywhere near enough footage of the freakin’ band.

I mean, these guys were known in the day for their adrenaline-fueled stage show with them just rocking the fuck out, and there are only snippets of any live Mott. How can a band that did tunes like “All The Way From Memphis” or “Walkin’ With a Mountain” (songs that are 40 years old and still kick you in the yam bag) get only bits and pieces of eye-time? How can a band that reportedly did 20-minute covers of “You Really Got Me” by The Kinks and added a whole new dimension to that tune have 20 seconds of their take on that Davies Brothers song in a disc about them?

I dunno, man.

The disc s fine overall; a solid little documentary bit. It was released prior to this version as Mott The Hoople: Under Review. But this version has a second CD disc of about an hour of audio interviews with the band. Disc two makes this awesome for those of us folks who belong to the Mott Lot…mildly interesting or downright boring for us folks with minor, little, or no fucking clue about the band. A fine watch, but man, if there were more live footage? It totally would have killed.

(Music Video Distributors, PO Box 280, Oaks, PA 19456)

No matter the size or format, I can appreciate a zine that exudes the passion and enthusiasm of its creators. It’s what makes zines great, the sharing of interests, ideas, and cultures that might otherwise slip under the radar. This is what makes the Chemical X DVD Zine so enjoyable. The creators (Geykido Comet’s Heela Naqshband and Shahab Zargari) have produced a zine that is part punk rock, part perzine, and have applied those aspects and a DIY aesthetic to a new zine medium.

This DVD reflects many months of compiling material that ranges from nicely produced music videos to punk rock community center shows shot on a hand-held camcorder. Intermixed are brief commercials from a few sponsors (including Imprint, Razorcake, Peta2, and, yes, Verbicide), some short sketches, and a GC Records West Coast video tour diary circa approximately 2000. None of the segments are too long (most are only a couple minutes), so it moves right along, yet the zine contains hours worth of material. Plenty of names on this DVD, too: some of the best videos feature bands such as Randy, Saboteur, Intro5pect, and a great live video collage of Peelander-Z, i.e., the best live show you will ever see.

Bands such as Affirmative Action Jackson, Japanther, and The Riverboat Gamblers will likely draw some attention, but it’s the new bands I was introduced to (including Cub and a Breeders-ish band called “Buck,” ostensibly fronted by the long-lost Deal sister) that make this really worthwhile. The creators of the zine even snuck in a few clips of their kids into the mix in some home-produced music videos.

Between the personal touches and the wide variety of music and content, GC have succeeded in bringing the zine to a new format, and the viewer reaps the reward.

(Geykido Comet Records, PO Box 93324, Las Vegas, NV 89193)

I confess to having a deep passion for much of Dylan’s work. He’s as iconic as Elvis and he writes better songs. Even more remarkable is his artistic renaissance in recent years during which he has created some truly great records.

For all of the above reasons, I was pretty excited to get a hold of this two-DVD set. If nothing else I figured it would satisfy any Dylan jones I might be having. But honestly there’s something just a little overwhelming about this collection. It was made in conjunction with the Dylan fanzine, ISIS, and ultimately it really is for “collectors only.”

The first DVD surveys Dylan’s life from 1941 to 1966; the second from 1966 to 1978. Altogether, we’re talking about 206 minutes of Dylan trivia. Oddly enough, the film is “unauthorized” so the filmmakers were unable to use any of Dylan’s music. Instead, we’re left with some Dylanesque strumming to go along with the plethora of images and interviews. For all of its heft the first DVD doesn’t really tell us much that’s new. We do hear from Dylan’s English teacher — but all he remembers is that Bob sat in the front row, three rows from the door. (Oops…hope I didn’t spoil it for you.)

The second DVD was a little more interesting, if for no other reason that we don’t often hear as much about that period of his career. I found the material on the Rolling Thunder Revue to be excellent. Overall, I’d say you’d be better served picking up any number of other sources for all your Dylan needs. But if you’re a completist of sorts then what the heck? Snag the sucker.

(Music Video Distributors, PO Box 280, Oaks, PA 19456)

Who else but Patton Oswalt could open his set with a lengthy joke about Kentucky Fried Chicken, describing their infamous fare as a “failure pile in a sadness bowl?” Alright, maybe Jim Gaffigan could, but the point is that he didn’t…or won’t. Let Gaffigan have his Hot Pockets, Oswalt has his KFC. With chunks like “Physics for Poets,” “Wackity Schmackity Doo!” and an extended diatribe on Cirque de Soleil, the Vegas production that he describes as “catnip for old people,” as well as an indulgent geeky bit on how if he had a time machine he would go back in history and kill George Lucas with a shovel to prevent him from making the three horrible prequels to the Star Wars movies, Oswalt triumphs.

Werewolves and Lollipops puts on full display his unmannerly contradictions, revealing an admittedly sloppy but absurdly appealing stand-up style that prompted one audience member to openly piss on nearby attendees rather than miss a minute of his gig to go use the bathroom, all of which is documented live on the DVD. Explaining in the introduction (while standing before a bust of Abraham Lincoln) that he wasn’t sure if he should edit the urine footage out, he decided to leave it in. Why? Because it got a big laugh.

(Sub Pop Records, PO Box 20367, Seattle, WA, 98121)

As a DVD, however, Live From Occupied Territory is more or less horrible; spastically filmed, sloppily put together, and edited by a clear amateur. The film is an example as to why one should beware the DIY label, which Propagandhi flaunts in the liner notes — sometimes it can mean “artists working hard on their own projects without interference from others,” and sometimes it can just be an excuse for lazy people to not put a lot of effort into how their product looks. This is the latter, easily. Indeed, Propagandhi are far too eager to draw attention to their shortcomings (the film opens with a tour manager complaining about how irresponsible and rude they are), and while it may endear them to a particularly fractured segment of their audience, embracing their flaws just takes away from their substantial ability.

Rounding out the DVD are two full-length documentaries about the causes the film benefits: The Middle East Children’s Alliance (working for safety and peace in the Middle East, especially for children), and the Grassy Narrows Blockade (opposing logging efforts that would rob the Grassy Narrows First Nation native tribe of Northern Ontario of precious resources). The films are easily more professional projects than the concert, and a worth a look. A photo album and film commentary are normal accessories for this type of release, but don’t add much.

In any case, the quality of the performance and the documentaries should make this an easy recommendation for Propagandhi fans; non-fans would do better to simply donate to the aforementioned charities, at mecaforpeace.org and freegrassy.org.

(G7 Welcoming Committee, PO Box 27006, C-360 Main St., Winnipeg, MB, R3C 4T3 Canada)

Slowboat basically repackages the whole Gorillaz experience, from music videos and commercials, to B-side singles and live concerts. It’s even got a particularly hilarious spot from a Gorillaz-themed episode of “MTV Cribs.” Ignore the grating voice work and it’s actually a satisfying chunk of sensory entertainment, just like the aforementioned orgy.

But, also like an orgy, it’s confusing as hell.

See, the creators have chosen to have the viewer navigate the Gorillaz maze-like recording studio and “discover” the content through random exploration. It’s a fun idea, in theory. But more often that not, you end up “discovering” an animation of a polar bear with his testicles hanging out when what you really wanted was to see that cool-ass video for the lead single, “Feel Good Inc.” (no, a dislike for polar bear penis does not make me homophobic). Of course, they give you the option to bypass the craziness and get straight to the videos, but it could have been nice if the primary navigation was as well conceived as the band itself. My only other gripe is that the DVD allows you to listen to the all of the Gorillaz B-side releases not available on 2005’s Demon Days, but you can’t download them to your computer for continued listening. Around my dinner table, we call that “bullshittery.” Basically, it forces you to go out and buy the individual singles when they could have just packaged them in with the DVD as a thank you to the fans.

Still, all in all, it’s a decent effort. If you liked their previous DVD release, Celebrity Takedown, you should probably get this, too. It will catch you up on everything you missed the first time around. But no rush. I’m sure there will still be plenty of these things left a couple months from now.

(Virgin Records, no address provided)

Well here’s a chunk of my life that I am never going to get back again. I think that I am actually dumber for having sat through the live DVD. Huffing glue and watching Gummo might actually be a better time than this sad excuse for a band. Submachin3 claims that “their only goal was to drink, play, and inspire you to hurt yourself.” Well, like a dirty smoker, you are hurting yourself every time you listen to Submachin3. I am fully convinced that listening to, or watching, Submachin3 play will cause cancer and birth defects over the long term. Oh, that’s not a compliment. I know that the morons that fill the shoes of this five-piece pack of dimwits will think that it is, but trust me, it’s not. They should have said, “Our only goal was to drink and play for other morons who stand around in a drunken stupor nodding to each other as if they recognize one of our songs from another one.” This is the most uninspired, boring set I have ever sat through. The Moose is a shitbox bar that appears to be vacant except for the small cluster of crusty, scab-riddled goof-offs who actually paid money to see this band. For all their booze talk, was anyone even buying drinks? I don’t see any evidence of it in the DVD, other than the band, who do some showing off with a bottle of something forgettable. It’s been my experience that punkers show up at a show, try and sneak or whine their way past the bouncer, then pool their money to buy three pints of shit draft beer, passing it mitt to mitt, greasing their slimy mouths all over it. Maybe they get a buzz, maybe they don’t. Whatever, they get to be seen at the show, right? Huh-huh, cool, Butthead! Huh-huh, cool, Beavis! I bet the bar staff took seventy-five cents and a couple of cigarette butts in tips that night. Wait, I take that back — punkers can’t afford smokes, so they would have kept the butts. This is an end of the line show for a band that stalled from the get-go. I don’t care if they’ve toured and played forever, this band is horrible, boring, sad, tripe gobbled up by skids who have nothing better to do than go see Submachin3 at the local gin mill. Seriously! Who would have heard of this shitty band if I hadn’t just written this? This whole show puts me in a bad mood.

(Da’ Core Records, 4407 Bowes Avenue, West Mifflin, PA 15122)