Sam Dunn
VH1 Classic
All Access Review: B+
Back in Aerosmith’s salad days, the early- to mid-1970s
to be precise, the only way a band could hit every target demographic it hoped
to reach was by touring all over and then going back out on the road to do it
all over again and again. Today, they call that sort of thing “viral
marketing,” as Aerosmith bassist Tom Hamilton jokes in the second episode of
Sam Dunn’s incisive documentary series “Metal Evolution.” Others might refer to
it as “paying your dues.”
Hamilton and company had no other choice when they were
starting out. Neither did KISS or anybody else of that era that possessed
dreams of rock ‘n’ roll world domination. In “Early Metal US,” the road to
stardom is paved not with gold, but with broken-down tour buses, empty booze
bottles, smashed bongs and used condoms, and while Dunn doesn’t delve deeply
into the more tawdry aspects of touring, metal’s most intrepid documentarian
does manage to illustrate how important it was from a business standpoint for
KISS, Aerosmith and Alice Cooper to be road warriors. To spread their hard-rock
contagion, gigging incessantly was the only way to get your name out there –
that is unless you happened to get lucky and score an unlikely radio hit, like
Alice Cooper did with that anthem of youthful rebellion “I’m Eighteen.” Getting
it played on a Toronto radio station, which transmitted the song to parts
throughout the North American Midwest, was certainly a coup for a band that, up
to that time, had been ignored by radio, even as their elaborate stage show, a
fun house of horrific thrills and chills, garnered the kind of publicity they
would have never been able to buy.
Recollections of life on the road are peppered throughout
“Early Metal US,” with Hamilton providing insight into how vital it was for
bands like his to knock ‘em dead every night. It was certainly no different for
the face-painted KISS, whose traveling circus of a stage show – what with Gene
Simmons’ blood splitting and fire breathing , Peter Criss’s levitating drum
kit, and Ace Frehley’s guitar gizmos – surely did the trick as far as building
up a fan base goes. However, as Frehley explains to Dunn while vintage images
of KISS’s theatricality in concert go rushing past, it was recording the explosive
live album, Alive!, that ultimately
launched them into the stratosphere and perhaps saved them from calling it
quits. Delivering the goods onstage meant everything to KISS, and bringing that
same excitement to vinyl was just as crucial.
And as KISS went along, they would use any tool they
could to make money, even going so far as to record a chart-topping ballad in
“Beth” – Criss, laughing all the way to the bank, talks at length to Dunn about
how Simmons and Stanley didn’t want to do it and did everything they could to
sabotage it in the studio – and go along with the trends of the day by
releasing, horror of horrors, a disco song. Meanwhile, in Boston, Aerosmith set
about bringing its furious, Rolling Stones-inspired blues-rock to the masses,
with a Jagger-like lead singer in Steven Tyler and a guitar slinger by the name
of Joe Perry. Hamilton is open and candid about how Aerosmith took on the
critics and won over the people with a rugged, rollicking sound that became
electrically charged in a live setting, and Dunn is just as honest in
describing Aerosmith’s fall from grace due to substance abuse.
There would be a period of malaise in hard rock before
Van Halen came along to inject a little hedonistic fun and a whole lot of heavy
metal testosterone into an arena-rock corpse that needed to be shocked back to
life. Young and cocky, with a supernatural guitar player in Eddie Van Halen,
the California foursome boasted a “big rock” aesthetic, as former bassist
Michael Anthony describes it to Dunn, and their thundering drums, blazing
riffage and David Lee Roth’s showmanship made rock fun again. Unfortunately,
Dunn and company cut short any exploration of Van Halen’s influence rather
abruptly, as if time had gotten away from them and a quick-and-dirty edit was
needed to wrap things up.
On the plus side, Dunn doesn’t drop the ball in detailing
the impact of surf guitar legend Dick Dale and garage-rock, especially the variety
that made Detroit famous, had on heavy metal’s development. Lenny Kaye is
particularly articulate and concise in his analysis of garage-rock’s influence,
while Dale passionately and without artifice explains how his use of thick
strings and a revamped Fender amp led to increased volume. The role Blue Cheer
played in drawing the blueprints for heavy metal is explored, as well, but it’s
when Dunn travels to Detroit to revisit the incendiary, scene that birthed the
MC5, The Stooges and Ted Nugent’s Amboy Dukes that things really get
interesting. Fiery, visceral concert footage of the MC5 kicking out the jams
back in the day – some of it familiar, and some of it not so familiar – and Nugent’s
wild-eyed tribute to the Wayne Kramer and the boys is something to behold. And
Dunn does a fine job playing up the blue-collar influence on Detroit’s
toughest, most confrontational acts, like Iggy Pop and The Stooges, with James
Williamson and Scott Asheton establishing a link between the automobile
industry and the bombed-out ruins of The Stooges’ drugged sonics.
- Peter Lindblad
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