Dig!
Filed Under: Music, Reviews | Article Tags : DVD review , music on dvd
By: Erik Swift
June 2005
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“And won’t it be absurd then
When no one knows what song they just heard
Unless someone on the radio tells them first.”
Courtney Taylor-Taylor, 2003
“I accept that people will make up their own minds about this film when they see it.”
Anton Alfred Newcombe, 2004People always ask me who I feel are the best current bands out there. I guess being a DJ, writer and a music fan must be some sort of a signal that I’m a Cliff Notes equivalent, but I’m always glad to help anyone avoid slogging through a jungle of Nickelbacks and Creeds. The list changes at times but the top choice hasn’t wavered since I accidentally saw them September 5, 1997. I was at the Tradewinds, a now-defunct beachfront Sea Bright NJ club, to see Blur. I believe in catching opening acts, because usually a halfway decent one could come along. Doing the job that night was The Dandy Warhols.
I was interested. They had been getting great reviews for their newest release, “The Dandy Warhols Come Down…” but I hadn’t heard a note. From the first chords of “Be-In,” the album and show’s opening song, I was hooked. Its slow build and rolling riffs rose to a catchy crescendo that started things off on a high and never let up; the closer was a delirious party of a jam that stretched for more than twenty minutes, drenched in spiraling synths and feedback. They were completely focused on their set, and I was floored. Blur didn’t have a prayer. I left the Tradewinds in shock – not because they were so good that I bought their indie debut on the spot, but that the Warhols weren’t playing stadiums yet. “This band,” I would say, “will be huge.”
Fast-forward to a month ago, when a radio co-worker was busting my balls. “So, what about those Dandy Warhols,” he sneered. “You told me years ago those guys would be the biggest band on the planet.” In defense of the group and myself, I told him their time would come. “Besides,” I said, “it’s not my fault only half of the world has good ears.” He replied, “You can only stay underground so long. Just ask the VU or The Ramones.” I disagree. No-bullshit songs and bands that make them are hard to find in this disposable Clear Channel atmosphere we live in. They’re barely played on the airwaves and aren’t appreciated by the average listener. Mass indifference is a wall many creative musicians hit, and leading the charge to tear it down are the underrated Dandys.
The Portland, Oregon quartet have now existed for more than a decade, led by Courtney Taylor-Taylor on vocals and guitar, Peter Holmstrom on lead guitar, Zia McCabe on keyboards/bass and (since 1998) Brent De Bouer on drums. Many have tried to describe the sound of The Dandy Warhols, but no one gets it right. The band would probably agree, so I doubt I’d nail it. I will say that if you like music, you will embrace The Dandy Warhols for consistently crafting honest and intelligent work that challenges listeners to venture onto every branch the band finds itself on. To compare them to anyone doesn’t do them justice, and no industry think tank can come up with a snappy genre label to corner them. Their output is distinctly original despite unabashed reverence for influences that vary from The Beatles and Iggy Pop to The Pixies and The Brian Jonestown Massacre.
If you haven’t heard of The Brian Jonestown Massacre, you soon will. Calling the BJM different is an understatement. The BJM is a testament to the power of music; whether an operatic effort or an acoustic jam, they sound like The Rolling Stones scoring spaghetti westerns. The BJM’s creator and centerpiece is the visionary Anton A. Newcombe, a productive but troubled mastermind. Newcombe’s inability to work with others is legendary, and he’s widely viewed as being a horror to work with or around. Yet, he’s a friggin’ studio marvel who can release three albums inside of a year. The San Francisco-based band is a vast collective of musicians, and more than 40 people have passed through its ranks. Often mentioned in tandem with The Dandy Warhols, they did not arrive simultaneously, but instead the members befriended each other while dragging themselves through the muddy music business. Their tours forced writers to notice the similarity in the groups’ sounds and monikers, and most often cheaply cobbled them together when describing the post-grunge indie music scene in the mid-1990s. Today, each band remains unbelievably outside the mainstream. Fickle consumers, bad management, lack of promotion, breakups and shit luck have happened before.
Why would anyone make a movie about these guys? And girl?
Picture showing the futilities faced by creative forces today in the music industry. Ondi Timoner has chronicled just that over seven years, and “Dig!” was culled from thousands of hours of footage. The fruits of her labor were rewarded with the 2004 Grand Jury Prize at Sundance. Recently released as a two-disc DVD set by Palm Pictures, “Dig!” is not smooth sailing. It can be heartbreaking and heartless, an unflinching display of the deepest pits of the human spirit. It ends a wizened survivor, and the scars it leaves often fail to heal. The film is a loosely chronological story that parallels each band’s development. Sex is nowhere, drugs are hopefully somewhere and rock and roll is thankfully everywhere. If you want to see singers in their blue undies, sitars played with beer bottles, all-night parties involving various liquids and other substances, or phone calls, phone calls and more phone calls, you’ve found the right flick. “Dig!” has this, but what will yank your attention back to the narrative are the mission and the music. Very good music.
The hallmark of a great documentary is what is accidentally captured. “Dig!” has its share: incredible monologues (Courtney’s Houston Street ripping of Capitol Records, Anton’s climactic tirade) and offhand comments are illuminating and will singe your soul (Marveling at the “Not If You Were The Last Junkie On Earth” video shoot, BJM axeman Jeff Davies wonders, “Is it going to happen for us?”). Yet, a scene that will burn into your memory is fourteen minutes into the film. With several label representatives present, a Brian Jonestown Massacre gig veers into madness as Newcombe gets into an on-stage fistfight with his band. As punches fly and bouncers haul everyone outside, Anton instantly destroys everything his band mates have been striving for – a true rock and roll suicide. While not as shocking as the Altamont murder of Meredith Hunter in “Gimme Shelter,” it’s also a devastating act with a lasting repercussion luckily caught on film.
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What’s kick-ass about “Dig!” is seeing people who give a shit about music, whether it’s their own or somebody else’s. You can’t miss the initial camaraderie between the bands. It doesn’t last. Courtney and Anton equally lean on each other for support and inspiration, but their mutual admiration can vanish in a heartbeat frequently during the worst of times. Despite Taylor-Taylor’s advice, Newcombe’s maddening desire to steer the BJM his way is later diplomatically echoed by Joel Gion (“We got there on our own”), but the singer is typically absent during the commentary. A bright montage in “Dig!” shows Anton in the studio, which is where Timoner plays it smart – instead of seeing who turns out to be the better boys, the film tags along on their travels and recording sessions. Everyone seems like your bud throughout, largely because of the intimacy Timoner and her crew gains by being around for extended lengths of time. If she ever asks for permission to follow you for a few years, let her. Whatever comes out of it could be as compelling as “Dig!”The volume of accolades Timoner has scored for “Dig!” is well deserved: the Independent Spirit Festival and the Music DVD awards have proclaimed this as the best music film in years. Who cares about Metallica’s bitching and moaning in “Some Kind Of Monster” when The Mad Hatter of The BJM, Gion, is around someone as quirky as Newcombe, an even Madder Hatter? “Dig!” is flat-out smashing, a globetrotting marathon that stretches from Japan and Europe to Slabtown and the Knitting Factories inside its 107 minutes. No one – not moron industry honchos, idealistic A & R guys or wise women that used to be men – has any idea how to prepare for or endure The Anton Newcombe Experience, least of all Anton himself. Newcombe has understandably disavowed any involvement with “Dig!” The film’s depiction of The Brian Jonestown Massacre makes The Black Crowes look stable. As the BJM becomes a shifting group of sidemen ready to do Newcombe’s bidding, it becomes evident that he doesn’t need them. The film’s final shot is of Anton, alone on a desert road, as “Nevertheless” and Davies’ submarine-blip of feedback pulses and fades in the background.
The film is a hodgepodge of different formats – everything from Hi-8 to 35mm appears. Visually and structurally, it starts to work. Dark, dingy clubs seem even darker and dingier. It’s annoying at one point in the film to see a flicker in a video image of Anton’s father. Without giving anything away, it soon becomes obvious why it appears. Timoner’s choice to film the BJM in 8mm and the Dandys in 16mm works. The BJM look rougher while the Dandys appear more refined – the filmmaking evolves with the musicians. Hell, even the drug busts induce different moods: The BJM’s roadside inspection in Georgia is a dreary exercise in impending doom, while the Dandys’ encounter with the police in France is a brief buzzkill on an otherwise euphoric European tour. Ultimately, the films’ towering achievement is locating two distinctly different mindsets at the same creative level and making them share the spotlight. I’d say it’s about time.
The double-disc DVD is totally wild. Remember how everyone raved about the Led Zeppelin DVD when it came out two years ago? It smashed sales records because fans were starved for new material after wearing out crappy copies of “The Song Remains The Same.” For followers of The Dandys or The BJM, this is a glorious treasure chest. Bonus link-outs direct viewers to deleted or extended scenes (Gion’s “Pinch me…” segment and The Dandys’ “Loveline” appearance are highlights). A blast, check them out after initially viewing “Dig!” when they add more depth. IF only the songs were complete… a nasty UK version of “Genius” bubbles to the surface only to sink again after a few moments. Shit, snippets arise often, a major downer since neither band has released a DVD of their own (this may soon change – The Dandys filmed some Aussie gigs last year). A second disc of extras is where you can hear some tunes, though. The BJM whip out a great “Anemone” at Austin’s Electric Lounge, and The Dandys’ hard-to-find video for “TV Theme Song” is here too. Also present is Timoner’s simple “Bohemian Like You,” a dry take on a typical karaoke night and a hysterical clip. Courtney’s appearance on MTV2’s “Subterranean,” “Where Are They Now” segments and tons of other stuff are not wastes of time. To know that the original length of “Dig!” was five hours is no horror. A four-disc boxed set would be spectacular! Dig, we can’t wait.
The commentaries are a LOT of fun. Both bands repeatedly straddle the line between respect and self-defense, and a minefield of witty asides is dished out. Here is where the former BJM-ers do their best to wrestle the spotlight from Taylor-Taylor’s narration of the feature film. The BJM alums are very representative of an average band’s moods and personnel. Gion, Matt Hollywood, Miranda Lee Richards, Dave Deresinski and Dean Taylor relentlessly shred The Dandys’ video shoot for “Junkie,” and their dismay over multiple blown chances and bad luck is apparent. The Dandys counter well (Courtney says a lot with a couple of pauses as he purrs: “Anton is…clearly…his own man”) and skewer empty industry showcases with delight. Each group gives credit when it’s due (the BJM crew can’t stop singing “Bohemian Like You,” while Courtney and Brent disagree over their favorite BJM offerings) and their connection is admitted point-blank: “We kept each other in print.” Finally, a DVD with valuable commentaries is upon us.
With all the foresight possible, I couldn’t imagine the Dandys actually not making it. I still can’t, and I’ve tried to assist where I can: I interviewed Courtney and Brent for Sirius Satellite Radio in 2003, and since 2002 I’ve produced “The Electric Ballroom” on Sunday nights, an eclectic mix of music heard on New Jersey’s 95.9 WRAT. Gradually exposing the hosts to both the Dandys and The BJM, I encouraged them to play the bands. They soon were, smoothly sliding next to Cheap Trick, T. Rex, The Clash, The New York Dolls and others. Is WRAT the only FM radio station playing both with irregularity? God, I hope not. The impact of “Dig!” has spread like wildfire, and many musicians view the film with their bandmates. With “Dig!” now widely available, it will affect everything for these bands if it hasn’t already: for the first time in 8 years, both groups will be on the same bill at this summer’s edition of Lollapalooza in Chicago’s Grant Park.
A few years after I saw The Dandys at Tradewinds, I was in Maxwell’s, a punk landmark in the formerly-boho but growing yuppie nucleus of Hoboken. Onstage in the crowded smoky dive were Newcombe and the BJM, touring behind 2001’s “Braveryrepetitionandnoise.” After their excellent set, the singer walked to the bar and stopped next to where I was standing. As his gaze locked into mine a blast of BO hit me – if he’d taken a bath in the last month, I couldn’t tell. Through the fog I tried not to cough and said, “Good show.” He brought a pointed forefinger about three inches from my nose. “Don’t ever give up,” he said, holding the pose for a few seconds. Dropping it and turning away, he returned to the bar. In retrospect, it’s the perfect description of “Dig!” – a story about two groups of people with incredible drive. While the goal is the same, different routes are taken. “It hasn’t stopped getting bigger yet,” says Holmstrom. For both bands, it continues. “Dig!” sits on their shoulders and quietly whispers everything to the rest of us, who are all the better for it.
BUY IT!!
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