Tuesday's Earful: The T.A.M.I. Show & Movie Time

By: David Schultz

The T.A.M.I. Show, the 1964 documentary featuring performances by The Beach Boys, Marvin Gaye, James Brown and The Rolling Stones, has made its way on to PBS. Recently tabbed by David Fricke as “The Greatest Rock Concert Film” ever made, the film makes perfect DVR/Tivo fodder so you can fast forward through the pledge drive and tote bag breaks. (Apocryphal, but c’mon). As Sting mentions in "When The World Is Running Down," this is the one tape Sting has in his VCR. For good reason, the James Brown footage is just that damn good. The story has always been around that The Rolling Stones thought the biggest mistake of their career was thinking they could follow The Godfather of Soul. Finally seeing Brown sizzle through "Night Train" does nothing to dispel the myth. It's stunning to believe that this all took place at the Teen Age Music International show. Anything that had that moniker nowadays would be such a moronic lip sync fest full of  disposable pop stars in the 14th minute of fame. The T.A.M.I. Show is a slice of rock and roll at its inception and should be required viewing.

Chuck Berry who’s also featured in The T.A.M.I. Show, has his own documentary floating around the nether regions of the cable universe. In Hail! Hail! Rock ‘n’ Roll, Taylor Hackford, the director of Ray, focuses on the preparations for a 1986 concert at the Fox Theater in St. Louis, Missouri to celebrate Berry’s 60th birthday. Filmed almost a quarter century ago, it features a fascinating round table between a now-deceased Bo Diddley, a now-incoherent Little Richard and Berry discussing the good-old-days in a calm, unembellished manner. It also features Berry going into a slow burn as he instructs an increasingly irritated Keith Richards on the correct way to play “Carol.” All of originators of rock and roll know what gets a crowd going and the concert footage, especially “Little Queenie,” captures Berry doing just that.

Howlin’ Wolf, one of Berry’s label mates from Chess Records, is the appropriate subject of Don McGlynn’s 2003 documentary, The Howlin’ Wolf Story. Popping up sporadically on Ovation, this one is a must DVR as it’s riddled with lengthy commercial breaks. The black and white footage from Wolf’s TV appearances, reminiscences from peers like Hubert Sumlin and Wolf’s own voice from archival footage make this worth the time. Among the voyeuristic moments, footage of a gathering of old blues musicians that gets a little edgy when Son House has too much to drink and, to Wolf's consternation, becomes a bit of an irascible and annoying presence in the room.

Beyond The Sea, Kevin Spacey’s biopic of Bobby Darin, falls at the other end of the spectrum. Using nearly all of the musical biography staples mocked in Walk Hard, Spacey fails to make Darin captivating or show why his career was worthy of the feature film treatment. The actor’s version of “Mind Games” blew people away at a 2001 John Lennon benefit, overshadowing many of the actual musicians on hand that night. He doesn’t recapture that glory in his embodiment of Bobby Darin. Stay away from this one and just watch The Usual Suspects again.

Although none of them play a note of music, rock stars dominate Jim Jarmusch’s 2003 gabfest Coffee & Cigarettes. Consisting of conversations between smokers sipping Java, the offbeat director gets the most out of his musical actors. Meg White says more in her one scene with her brother/husband/houseboy Jack and a Tesla coil than she has in a decade on stage. The GZA and RZA, who are the only ones in the film to neither light up or imbibe caffeine, more than hold their own in their absurd interlude with Bill Murray as they convince him to gargle oven cleaner as a homeopathic remedy. The piece de resistance is Iggy Pop and Tom Waits engaging in an uncomfortable conversation in which Waits consistently rebuffs all of Pop’s overtures of friendship while they both chain smoke their way through a found pack.