Various Artists – CBGB: Original Movie Soundtrack

Various Artists – CBGB: Original Movie Soundtrack

Omnivore Records

All Access Rating: B

Various artists - CBGB: Original Movie
Soundtrack 2013

So far, the critics haven’t been at all kind to the movie“CBGB.” Even though Television's Richard Lloyd and the Dead Boys’ Cheetah Chrome, both of whom have a long history with the iconic punk venue, have gone on record giving it their stamp of approval, others aren’t so enamored.

Their knives sharpened, the film’s detractors have crucified it, in fact. Actors were reportedly miscast for important roles or gave performances that were just plain flat. Inaccuracies are said to abound, at the very least compromising its authenticity. And these are just a few of the complaints.

Worst of all, there’s a sense that the filmmakers failed to go that extra mile to capture the explosive zeitgeist of the times or the energy of a place that was so vital in nurturing the innovation and raw fury of the nascent punk rock scene of New York City in the late 1970s, not to mention its propensity for good, dumb fun. The Ramones had a lot of it, and so did The Dictators.

If nothing else then, the Omnivore Records soundtrack has to be good, right? Well, yes and no. Taken out of context, without any regard for what actually took place at CBGB, this is a fine collection of riotous, vicious rock ‘n’ roll that provokes and agitates, with a pulse that simply races and lyrics that are poetic and unflinchingly honest. The tension of almost every track threatens to boil over at any point, even if stylistically speaking, there is a good amount of diversity. Whatever qualms people – especially the old punks “who were there” – have about the film, the track listing of the soundtrack offers at least some measure of salvation.

Containing all of 20 songs within its graffiti-splattered walls, it is not, by any means, an exhaustive survey of the trailblazing acts or performers who made CBGB their home. And some of the choices are predictable, but perhaps necessary, like the Talking Heads’ anxiety-ridden “Life during Wartime.” Exactly what the MC5’s wild-eyed “Kick Out the Jams” or The Stooges’ bad acid trip “I Wanna Be Your Dog” – both groundbreaking pieces of great significance and influence, no doubt – are doing here is up for debate, seeing as how the scene of the most memorable meltdowns from these Motor City proto-punks was probably the Grande Ballroom in Detroit.

In between such obvious and controversial selections, however, lies the true identity of CBGB, where the Tuff Darts’ gnarly, bull-in-a-china-shop manifesto “All for the Love of Rock ‘N’ Roll” knocks the martini glass out of the hand of Blondie’s sweet and stylish 2013 remake of the sunny and sophisticated “Sunday Girl.” What could be more CBGB than Wayne County and the Electric Chairs’ edgy, kinetic “Out of Control” sharing garish makeup tips with the New York Dolls’ gleefully obnoxious and thoroughly pugnacious “Chatterbox” or Television’s nervous art-pop tale of romantic bitterness “Careful” commiserating with Johnny Thunders & the Heartbreakers’ punched-up, soul-searing lament “All By Myself.” God, but the serrated guitars everywhere on this soundtrack cut you to the quick.

All of these songs bristle with frustrated energy just begging for an outlet. CBGB and its eccentric owner Hilly Kristal were only too happy to oblige the poetic vitriol and tortured self-loathing of “Blank Generation” by Richard Hell & the Voidoids, as well as The Dictators’ obscenely funny, amphetamine-fueled romp through The Rivieras’ classic rocker “California Sun.” Two songs by the Dead Boys, the snarling “Caught with the Meat in Your Mouth” and the blazing arson that is “Sonic Reducer,” have a seat at CBGB’s table, as do the swaggering, hip-shaking garage-rockers “Slow Death” and “Psychotic Reaction,” by the Flamin’ Groovies and The Count Five, respectively.

Of course, they also made room for The Police, who played at CBGB just before they broke it big. Their super-tight, bubbling paean to a painted-prostitute “Roxanne” is part of the soundtrack, which, as many critics will undoubtedly say, could serve a musical textbook for any Punk Rock 101 class. It should have been much better though.

Although Joey Ramone’s bare-knuckled brawler “I Get Knocked Down (But I’ll Get Up)” makes an appearance, how is there nothing from The Ramones as a whole here? And why give space to a Blondie remake of “Sunday Girl” when some other original from back in the band’s more subversively sexual heyday would have lent the set more heat? For that matter, who needs yet another chance to own “Kick out the Jams” or “I Wanna Be Your Dog”? Every winning choice and every unexpected surprise on the “CBGB” soundtrack is matched by another that’s completely baffling or gallingly superfluous. Give this to a kid who needs some real punk rock in his or her life, but tell them there was more to CBGB than this.

 –    Peter Lindblad

DVD Review: David Byrne "Ride, Rise, Roar"

DVD Review: David Byrne "Ride, Rise, Roar"
Eagle Vision
All Access Review: A-

The iconic "big suit" David Byrne wore to arty, and somewhat comic, effect in the classic Talking Heads concert film "Stop Making Sense" is nowhere to be found on the idiosyncratic artist's newest performance documentary "Ride, Rise, Roar." In that exquisitely tailored, yet enormous, the rail-thin Byrne seemed like he was drowning in colorless fabric. It wouldn't have fit anybody, let alone the stick-like frame of Byrne, and yet, it told us much about contemporary living.

To anybody paying attention, it was hardly a great leap of imagination to make a connection between that suit, so devoid of personality in and of itself and yet so strangely compelling to look at, and how the frenetic, soul-stealing activity of modern life and work can swallow a person whole. And yet, there was nothing obvious or ham-handed about Byrne's unforgettable theatricality. As outsized as that suit was, the statement Byrne made with it was subtle and small, just a little tweak at the self-important business man wanting to become a master of the universe and losing himself in the process. Then again, to Byrne, maybe it was just a funny-looking, clown-ish get-up, a way to get a laugh — not bloody likely, though.

Whatever the case, it's Byrne's ability to dissect the human condition and all its mundane preoccupations, its underlying tensions, as if the world were a biology class's fetal pig — be it through enigmatic lyrics or his own strangely compelling visual artistry, and do so with a sly wit and a scientist's curiosity — that's made Byrne such a consistently interesting figure in pop music and other arenas.

"Ride, Rise, Roar" only adds to the mythology. Though not one inclined to revisit the past often, in 2008, Byrne did re-connect with Brian Eno for the LP Everything That Happens Will Happen Today, his first collaboration with Eno since 1981's My Life in the Bush of Ghosts. Informed by a decidedly un-ironic love of gospel music and its effervescent hopefulness, plus a healthy interest in electronica, Everything That Happens Will Happen Today was a triumph of man and machine. Then came the tour, the 2008-09 celebration of the music Eno and Byrne have made together over the years, starting with Eno's production and writing work with the Talking Heads, when they were a new wave, art-punk oddity that somehow forged a connection with the masses through the power of nerdy funk.

Wanting to make the experience more of a dazzling show, Byrne dreamed up an unlikely marriage of pop music and modern dance — reflecting his growing interest in the interpretive power of group movement — that could have been a train wreck. Unbelievably, it worked. The tour received glowing reviews, and "Ride, Rise, Roar" shows why. Decked out all in angelic white, the band and the small cadre of darting, twirling dancers — not the usual posse of break-dancing, hip-hop athletes you see on MTV — have a synergistic bond that adds spiritual weight and uplifting joy to performance segments that are thrilling, thought-provoking and full of boundless energy.

Cringe if you must at the thought of combining "interpretive dance" with the straightforward ethics of a traditional rock concert, but be prepared also for a visceral religious experience that mixes Talking Heads classics with selections from other Byrne-Eno works, including, of course, Everything That Happens Will Happen Today. It is beautifully shot by filmmaker David Hillman Curtis, with multiple camera angles and instinctual editing making the action even more intense and profound.

Though there's an awkwardness to the choreography surrounding Byrne in an otherwise electric version of "Once In A Lifetime," the concept comes together in the reflective "Life Is Long," with dancers wheeling fluidly and expressively across the stage on office chairs. Wonderfully abstract and moody, "I Feel My Stuff" shifts from jazzy, jungle-like atmospherics to sinewy, driving rock and then back again, the deceptively tricky choreography growing more and more anarchic. Taking on Talking Heads' favorites "Burning Down The House," "Road to Nowhere" and "Life During Wartime," Byrne and company attack them with an intoxicating, wild-eyed fervor and a snake-handler's belief that every note they're playing and every mapped-out dance step they take is full of meaning.

Sprinkled in between the concert footage are black-and-white, behind-the-scenes segments that reveal much about Byrne's creative process and how the experimental choreography developed. It's a fascinating look at an art form that doesn't get a lot of exposure, and the part where Byrne and Eno share a moment describing what influenced them musically on their latest collaboration offers fresh theories on inspiration and how they've channeled it into their more recent creations.

Boldly innovative, "Ride, Rise, Roar" gives "Stop Making Sense" a run for its money. Once again, Byrne's artistic sensibilities win out, and this grand experiment captures the best of what pop music and dance can accomplish when boundaries are pushed to the limits of imagination.

— Peter Lindblad