D.A. Pennebaker’s Monterey Pop

ABC just didn’t get it. When they saw the footage of Jimi Hendrix torching his guitar at the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival, they reverted their rights back to D.A. Pennebaker, taking a pass on what would become one of the most iconic concert films in documentary history. Remember that when anyone on the network lectures you about anything. Instead, the film released in theaters in late 1968, the watershed year for the counter-culture. On the fiftieth anniversary of the festival, music and film connoisseurs can revisit and re-evaluate Pennebaker’s Monterey Pop (trailer here) when Criterion’s new 4K restoration opens this Wednesday in New York at the IFC Center.

Much to the trepidation of local authorities, 8,500 eager young-ish folks crammed into the venue, over twenty percent more than were expected, but no harm was done—unless you happened to be a guitar. Many critics were struck by the way Pennebaker soaks up the scene and slyly incorporated ironic bites of audience chatter. However, hipper viewers will notice its aesthetic similarity to Bert Stern’s Jazz on a Summer’s Day, documenting the 1958 Newport Jazz Festival nine years earlier.

At the time, seeing all these acts together in one sitting was a treat. Remember, there was no youtube or itunes back in the day. However, some of the performances have comparatively depreciated with the passage of time and the proliferation of online media, whereas others have gained potency. Frankly, The Mamas & The Papas and The Who feel like they are just doing workaday sets, even if Pete Townsend smashed his guitar at the end of “My Generation.”

Eric Burdon & the Animals do a credible version of the Stones’ “Paint it Black,” but it seems odd to give a cover such prominent placement—of course, their greatest hit was also a cover, so maybe it makes sense in a weird way. Otis Redding certainly came to play and so did Canned Heat doing a very modern sounding take of Hambone Willie’s “Rollin’ and Tumblin’ [Blues],” but they would later generate much more buzz for their appearance in the 1970 Woodstock doc (with “Going Up the Country”). Technically, Hendrix’s “Wild Thing” is yet another cover, but it is undeniably history in the making when he immolates his guitar. Even though it is 1967, you can still see the WTF looks in the front rows (of course, you know all those folks will now boast to anyone who will listen: “I was at Monterey when Jimi set his guitar on fire—and it was awesome).

Ironically, the clear, hands-down, head-and-shoulders-above stand-outs in Pennebaker’s film would now be considered “world music” rather than “pop.” Hugh Masekela has a foot still very much in jazz when performing a stark, stirring rendition of Afropop-flavored “Bajabula Bonke (The Healing Song),” the B-side to hit smash hit single, “Grazing in the Grass.” Appropriately, Monterey Pop ends with an infectiously transcendent performance by Ravi Shankar, with Alla Rakha on tabla. Pennebaker further builds the inherent tension of “Dhun (Dadra and Fast Teental)” by focusing on the increasing ecstatic audience rather than the Indian musicians, until they reach the climaxing crescendo.  Yes, that was one that should still sell downloads.

There is still a good deal of groovy music in Monterey Pop, interspersed with some sardonic observational humor. There were some sad prints out there, but the restoration looks terrific. Frankly, it is more inconsistent than people probably remember, but it remains a cultural milestone. Recommended for fans of 1960s rock and world music, Monterey Pop opens this Wednesday (6/14) at the IFC Center.

Tribeca ’12: Alekesam (short)

South African trumpeter Hugh Masekela survived Apartheid and drug addiction. Though the musician was often something of an absentee father, his son Selema more-or-less had to survive them too, by proxy. Their complicated musical father-and-son story is told in Jason Bergh’s short documentary Alekesam (trailer here), which screens as part of the Triptych program at the 2012 Tribeca Film Festival.

Anyone who reads Masekela’s memoir Still Grazing might easily get the sense he remains nostalgic for his hard partying days. Regardless, according to his son (often known as “Sal”) his father could not have withstood much more substance abuse. Fortunately, Masekela got clean, with the help of lifelong friend and producer Stewart Levine, who is still close to both Masekelas.

Alekesam focuses somewhat more on the son, who grew up with an unreliable father. Yet, he was able to make his own way in the world, becoming a well known surfer and extreme sports commentator. Following his father’s recovery and reconciliation, the junior Masekela has also made his way back to music, as a vocalist. In fact, he has a smooth, appealing voice. Nonetheless, most fans will want to hear more of the senior Masekela’s invigorating yet easy-going trumpet work they know so well from his soulful records.

Bergh elicits some honest reflections from both Masekelas and gets several amusing soundbites from Levine, a natural raconteur. However, he seems to give short shrift to the younger Masekela’s mother, considering the critical role she played during his formative years. Frankly, Alekesam could have been much longer than its manageable thirty-four minutes, without risk of overstaying its welcome, which is ultimately quite a compliment.

It is nice to have a documentary end on a happy note for a change. Alekesam is a rather uplifting testament to the power of family and friendship—with good music, of course. Recommended for fans of Hugh Masekela’s jazz-pop-African fusion blend and Sal Masekela’s extreme sports set, Alekesam screens again as part of the Triptych shorts block tomorrow (4/21), Wednesday (4/25), and Sunday (4/29) during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Moyo

Moyo (Heart & Soul)
By Keiko Matsui
Shout! Factory

Hugh Masekela was one of the crossover jazz stars of the 1970’s, finding a commercial blend of jazz pop, and African music that found listeners in all three camps. For her latest CD Moyo, Keiko Matsui went to South Africa for the collaborative inspiration of the country’s musicians, including Masekela himself.

Given her new age background, it is not surprising Moyo has stronger melodic qualities than improvisational fire, but many of those melodies are quite strong. The title opener has an atmospheric feel that benefits from Richard Bona’s vocals and bass. “Caricias” is another strong melody that shows off Matsui’s touch on the piano, although one could argue the synthesizers are just a touch heavy. The pitfalls of the album come on cuts like “Into the Night,” where Gerald Albright’s smooth tenor borders on the cloying.

“An Evening in Gibraltar” and “Old Potch Road” are both highpoints that feature Masekela in some excellent brass arrangements, capturing the vibe of Masekela’s best Chisa cuts. “Potch” is a particular highlight of the CD, featuring a joyful solo from Masekela, a downright swinging solo from Matsui, and some nice interplay between the two.

Although “After the Rain” features Paul Taylor’s soprano instead of brass, it comes the closest in tone to the Masekela collaborations. It is an interesting mix of wistful soprano and piano, with Lucas Senyatso’s funky bass.

“Um Novo Dia (A New Day)” is another cut defined by Matsui’s inspiration from Africa and African artists. Angolan vocalist Waldemar Bastos’ Portuguese vocals and Bona’s bass and programming combine effectively in a dramatic track.

Matsui has attracted some first class contributors to Moyo, giving it a distinctive sound, although there is an over-reliance on synthesizers for many listeners’ tastes (or at least mine). While the CD is a bit uneven, there are many highlights that suggest her African influences are a rewarding avenue of exploration for Matsui. It would be great to hear her continue with African themes—unplugged.