A summertime question for Fraser Lewry.

Just this past Thursday, Jemima Kiss announced in the Guardian, "Magazine publisher Development Hell has appointed Fraser Lewry as its first digital editor, leading the relaunch of music titles The Word and Mixmag online." I hope they realize what a very smart decision that one is.

Pardon another digression. Another episode. Just after the turn of the millennium, I decided that if I were going to say to my grandkids someday, "Ah, the dotcom boom. Yes, I was there," I'd better hurry. I was invited to meet the CEO of an Italian online music company at the Hotel Adlon, Berlin's finest, a legend in its own right. This wasn't that unusual in those days, but I broke my pattern by saying, Yes. I would be his Vice President for... what was it? Editorial? Community? Whatever. And so, for half a year, I flew around Europe, doing that VP thing, and of course, eventually realized that it was well and truly not my thing at all.

I did meet several great people along the way, though, and one of them is Fraser Lewry. Londoner, world traveler, connoisseur of fine food and fine music and one of the smoothest writers I know. Seriously. See his Blogjam entry on silkworm pupa pizza and you'll see what I mean.

I've asked Fraser, What's the greatest rock 'n' roll movie of all time?

Stop Making Sense. The Last Waltz. Woodstock. Presley's '68 Comeback Special. These are the names that tend to crop up again and again when people are asked to reveal their favourite rock 'n' roll movies. They appear so often in polls and best-of lists that their greatness becomes self-perpetuating, unquestionable, to the point where others equally worthy of attention are never mentioned.

Take Music Is The Weapon, for instance, a 1982 French documentary devoted to Afro-pop legend Fela Kuti. Not only does it feature some truly incendiary live footage shot at Kuti's Lagos club, The Shrine, it manages to get much closer to its subject than any of the movies listed above, and in one priceless sequence the singer is shown holding forth on Nigerian politics and sexuality, visibly intoxicated and clad in nothing but a tiny pair of pastel blue y-fronts. This is the kind of stuff you really don't get from David Byrne.

Another fine film is Driver 23, which documents 7 (seven!) years in the life of Dan Cleveland, leader of terminally hopeless metal band Dark Horse. Cleveland, a serious OCD sufferer and eternal optimist, does not make for comfortable watching, and has a huge blind spot where his own talent is concerned. The viewer knows they'll never "make it," but is compelled to watch despairingly as the band stumble from one harrowing failure to the next. It's Spinal Tap without the jokes.

The greatest rock 'n' roll movie of them all is just 22 minutes long. Shot on black and white film with a hand-held camera, The Cramps: Live At Napa State Mental Hospital chronicles perhaps the unlikeliest show ever organised. The footage is grainy, the editing abrupt, but the power of the performance is undeniable. It's absolutely electric, and all the more entertaining for the environment in which it takes place. Stage right, two patients spend the entire show rocking back and forth and jogging on the spot, lost in delirium. During "Love Me," a man climbs on stage, slowly turns to the house, screams long and loud, then quietly rejoins the audience.

All the way through, singer Lux Interior engages the crowd, at one point writhing around on the floor with two female onlookers and, by the end of the show, it's quite clear that all concerned are having the time of their lives. It's brilliant footage, and a genuine reminder of the vivid, visceral power of live music.

Posted by dwhudson at July 27, 2007 8:41 AM