EAR WHACKS

by Todd Paul

Reel Music

A Voice From Heaven, a documentary about the Pakistani singer Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, will be shown at the Woodstock Film Festival

The first annual Woodstock Film Festival, September 21-24, was designed with an emphasis on music in film and films about music. The combination, though ubiquitous, gets surprisingly little attention, with awards for best score far down the list of most people’s Oscar night priorities. Similarly, movie soundtrack CDs are, with rare exceptions, shelved somewhere between “comedy” and the bargain bin in music stores.
For the Woodstock Film Festival, the choice of music as a focal point was probably influenced by its host town: “Woodstock” after all, isn’t a name normally associated with the silver screen, except for the concert films. But the idea got me thinking about the music I’ve come to know through film over the years. Jim Jarmusch introduced me to Screamin’ Jay Hawkins with his film Stranger Than Paradise, and to Tom Waits with his follow-up, Down By Law. A long term listening affair with Cat Stevens was sparked by the cult movie Harold And Maude. Jonathan Demme expanded my limited view of The Talking Heads, and Warren Beatty’s Bullworth made me reassess the intelligence and impact of rap music.
Lately I’ve noticed myself assessing new bands according to whether their music would lend itself to a soundtrack and, if so, what sort of scene it would be. Some songs just sort of open themselves up, inviting visual images to catch a ride, while others are too hermetic or self-absorbed for that sort of artistic pairing. In real life—where absolute silence is rare—the soundtrack to our lives unfolds continuously around us. The clacking of the keyboard, the hum of electrical fixtures, the creak of a desk chair—this is the original score for this column. Were I writing in the city, the background music would be much more aggressive.
The Woodstock Film Festival gets a head start on itself Wednesday, September 20, at 6 p.m. with Nusrat: A Voice From Heaven, a film documenting the vocal talents and legacy of legendary Pakistani singer Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Regarded one of the premiere singers of the century, Nusrat sought to bridge the religious and political boundaries between Pakistan and India through music. The film will be followed by an 8 p.m. performance by Nusrat’s nephew, Rahat Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, and his nine-piece ensemble. Both the film and performance are hosted by Catskill Corners in Shandaken.
Opening night of the festival features two blues documentaries by filmmaker Les Blank, The Blues Accordin’ To Lightnin’ Hopkins (1969) and A Well-Spent Life (1971), a portrait of Mance Lipscomb. Both men were Texas acoustic blues artists; Lipscomb was perhaps the more musically educated of the two, but Hopkins’ incredibly nimble guitar work and charismatic presentation brought him greater fame.
On Friday, September 22, Graham Parker will perform Carp Fishing On Valium—The Stories, The Songs. The show, which will be held at the Joyous Lake, consists of readings from his recently published book, accompanied by original songs. A dance party screening of Demme’s ultimate concert movie, Stop Making Sense, will be held September 23 at the Bearsville Theater. And The festival includes a panel on music in film moderated by BMI’s Doreen Ringer Ross, which will be Web cast by RadioWoodstock.com, and “A conversation With Elmer Bernstein.” On Saturday, September 23, the Joyous Lake will host filmmaker-rockers, with The Martinets and other bands. For more information, check the Woodstock Film Festival Guide insert in Chronogram, or visit www.woodstockfilmfestival.com.

Recommended Listening
The Chris McDermott Love Perimeter
I recently had the good fortune to catch a performance by The Chris McDermott Love Perimeter, a quartet organized around funk/blues man Chris McDermott and his three-pickup (four if you count the sneak piezo under the bridge) Harmony Rocket. The guitar’s history makes a hell of a story: McDermott was on tour in Wyoming with Little Eddie Kirkland (credentials enough) and Kirkland, who plays a variety of off-brand electrics, was ragging him that his Strat sounded just like every other Strat on the planet, making McDermott sound “too much like that Stevie Ray guy.” Merely being named in the same sentence with “that Stevie Ray guy” would’ve caused most guitarists to drop dead on the spot from ego poisoning, but McDermott just worried himself to sleep, trying to figure out how to get his own unique tone. That night Mississippi bluesman Robert Johnson appeared to him in a dream, handed him a red semi-hollow guitar and said, “Now you a blues man son.” The next morning McDermott went out to find his red guitar, determined not to spend more than $25 on it.
He ended up paying $38 for the Harmony, the only guitar in the second pawnshop he visited and an exact match for the one he saw in the dream. He’s played it almost exclusively for nine years. It’s dated 6/6/66—significant for those who believe the story that Johnson received his own legendary guitar prowess from the devil in exchange for his soul, on a midnight crossroads similar to the dream road where McDermott met him.
Anyway, the Love Perimeter, comprising L.B. on upright bass, Pookie Cole on drums and Eroc on turntables and samples, backs McDermott with a solid rhythm section. McDermott plays the hell out of the Harmony, and the songs are somewhere between Beck and James Brown, with a bit of Hendrix thrown in when McDermott masterfully manipulates the Harmony’s natural feedback. This is really one of the best original bands I’ve seen in years; McDermott has a natural stage presence and loves to experiment with low-tech sound attenuators, such as when he sings into a microphone mounted inside a tin can to get a dark, bottom-of-the-well effect similar to that achieved by blues harmonicists who would sing into their microphones through their harps. Check out his CDs online at www.chrismcdermott.com, and look for future appearances of The Love Perimeter.

Van Morrison
Bang Masters
Shortly after leaving the Irish blues/rock band Them in 1967, Van Morrison recorded a batch of songs for the Bang label, among them his most successful single, “Brown Eyed Girl.” Although not as polished as much of Morrison’s later work, Bang Masters illuminates a period of high creativity and earthy aesthetics. The 18 songs on this album, including the harrowing nine-and-a-half minute “TB Sheets,” represent the best of the Bang years, remastered from the original four-track recordings and re-released on Sony. Morrison fans will enjoy his original, uncensored version of “Brown Eyed Girl,” as well as early takes of “Beside You” and “Madame George,” but the real treasures here are such forgotten gems as “Goodbye Baby (Baby Goodbye),” “Send Your Mind” and “The Back Room.” Morrison declaims with Jaggeresque vocals and his guitar work has never sounded gutsier.