Saturday, May 16, 2020

Passion and The Perfect Age of Rock 'N' Roll


Serendipity. That’s a word that keeps raising its head whenever the movie The Perfect Age of Rock ‘N’ Roll is discussed. I reviewed the film over a year ago, under a rather serendipitous circumstance. It is entirely coincidental (and tragic), that Amy Winehouse passed away at the age of 27, just before the release of the first movie to ever consider the topic of the “27 Club.” Fate, circumstance, and inevitability seem to follow the movie wherever it goes.

What is not serendipitous is the fact that the film’s writer/director, Scott Rosenbaum, set out and made a movie that told a story which is wrapped in fate, passion, sacrifice, and ultimately, redemption. Rosenbaum left a successful career on Wall Street to pursue a rather more risky profession as an independent filmmaker. It took him almost a decade to take an idea long planted, and make it a reality – this was his intention. Along the way, he learned how to write a screenplay, how to direct a motion picture, how to sell a movie, and finally how to oversee its release.

I spoke with Scott, and producer Joseph White who are in Hollywood for the movie’s premiere later this week. The film opens in LA, New York City and Dallas on August 5th, and will be available through On Demand for cable customers around the country.

 “We really don’t have any plans beyond this weekend. We don’t really know how it will be received. Quite frankly, to lay our cards on the table, our hope is that somebody rings our phone next Monday morning, and they say that they want to expand this theatrically! But we really don’t know what will happen beyond next Sunday. We’re guaranteed that, right?”

“No, we’re not guaranteed anything!”

“Not even the weekend?”

“No. They’ll play it through the weekend to see how it does, but there is no guarantee.”

Welcome to the world of the independent filmmaker. This exchange occurred between director Rosenbaum, and producer White midway into our conversation. They have made the most important rock and roll movie since The Last Waltz, but they also live in a world in which, while there are no guarantees, there is fate and destiny, which seem to be siding with them.

It is almost a miracle that the film got made. The movie briefly fell under the aegis of Spike Lee’s organization (White worked for Lee for many years, and Rosenbaum studied under Lee as an apprentice), but unfortunately was abandoned in development, the fate of many ambitious films. This didn’t impede the pair’s passion, and they commenced to finish the film, and sell it, utilizing their own financing. This is not a proceeding which should be considered by anyone with less than an amazing amount of desire, ambition, and sheer determination.

“To write something, and to be so passionate about it,” says Rosenbaum, when asked about the process, “when, instinctively we all know that Hollywood doesn’t really care, and it’s weird – because I think this is what people want, and that’s Hollywood’s job, but they gravitate towards big meteors, or whatever, and this is something Joe and I have talked about ever since he joined the film, There has been a tremendous amount of serendipity involved around the film, but the last three years have been very difficult for us. It has literally been like wandering around the desert and wondering if it was ever going to happen. That’s why this week has finally been so gratifying – to be here for the film’s premiere. To be here after going through all that has happened, and to finally have this thing see the light of day, believe me, neither of us takes this for granted. It’s a real blessing for us.”

The film is the story of two friends whose destinies took them in different directions, but their fates had them reconciling – for one to save his ailing career, for the other to find and realize his calling. A rock and roll band is the perfect vehicle for the story in this day and age, for it is rock and roll that has created the “27 Club.”

The 27 Club is an elite list of musicians who have died at that age. Starting with blues original Robert Johnson, the list is highlighted by Joplin, Morrison, Hendrix, Brian Jones, Kurt Cobain, and now, tragically, Amy Winehouse. I asked about the not insignificant timing of the Winehouse death to the film’s release. Rosenbaum had this to say:

“Some people have said rather callously, ‘You couldn’t pay for that kind of publicity,’ and I haven’t responded, but I don’t mind telling you this, because we have discussed this before. Something is obviously afoot, quite frankly. It’s true, you can’t deny the fact – we’ve always said this about this film - that we were in touch with certain energies. Life imitates art, and art imitates life, and a lot of that has surrounded this film, admittedly right down to me and Jason Cadic, who co-wrote the screenplay. We had a lot of that Spyder and Eric (the film’s two lead characters) dynamic, and a lot of it played out after the film was done. You mess with certain alchemy and you have to be prepared to get the full dose, and I really think we have, and this latest thing (the Winehouse death coincidence) is just the latest, and the most pronounced.”

“We’ve definitely been fucking with some mojo, for better or for worse, and hopefully we were ultimately able to tell a story that has some meaning for some people – and that is what it was all about from the beginning. People seem to get the message of the film, and it has an impact on them, and they make some sort of change in their life for the better. That’s really the highest compliment, and one that we have heard quite a bit.”

Joseph White had this to add, “That’s part of the reality of the reactions to this film. It is a great piece of art in that it gets a very real rise out of people. People are either like, ‘Yeah, that’s exactly how it goes,’ or they’re like, ‘Fuck man, why’d you have to tell the truth?’”

Back to the film, it is a tale that is as old as they come. Allegorically speaking, It is basically the story of Christ, a tale of death and redemption. Rosenbaum has successfully and correctly paralleled the story of Jesus with that of today’s rock and roll heroes.

Scott, “I sat and wondered if the film would ever get out, and if anyone would ever realize that it is a poem, and not just a shitty film about a time period in rock history.”

“So many people do not get that reference and it’s odd that you write something like this of all things, about Christ and Christianity. You’d think that people would be coming out of the woodwork, especially in this day and age, and they would get it, yet nobody has said anything about that. I almost feel sort of blasphemous when I talk about it, but the reference was plain (The Perfect Age). All these great rock stars, musicians, and personalities are the equivalent of what Christ was made out to be. There were these amazing figures that commanded tremendous public attention with their message, then they died at an early age, and achieved a sort of immortality. Those are the true bones of the story that I have been really reluctant to talk about. I never thought anyone would get it, and I’ve felt like to talk about it just cheapened it. It’s a very strange thing, and God willing I get to write another screenplay, I hope that I have the courage to write something like that again.”

Neither Rosenbaum nor White seem terribly anxious as they sit in the luxurious confines of the legendary Mondrian Hotel, and await the fate of their film. The director has spent almost a decade leading up to this moment, and now it is in the lap of the gods. Rather fitting for a film that is so entwined in fate that one of the leading characters, Rose Atropos, played by actress Taryn Manning, is named after the goddess Atropos.

The oldest of the three fates in Greek mythology, Atropos, was known as “the inevitable.” It was Atropos who would choose the mechanism of death, and ended the life of each mortal.

Actress Taryn Manning, in addition to her eerily accurate portrayal of a female road manager (a rarity in the rock world that demands a very strong personality and will), has been spearheading the final thrust of publicity for the filmmakers, flying from coast to coast and working the talk show circuits.

“Taryn has been a real warhorse,” Rosenbaum replied when asked about the public relations effort, “She’s been unbelievable – she came to New York Tuesday night and has been doing press ever since. Now she’s flying to Dallas for two days of press, then she’s back home to LA for the premiere next weekend.”

“And oddly enough, and I don’t mind sharing this with you, Peter Fonda and Kevin Zeger have all but disappeared! In my mind they have been at least MIA, if they have not written off the film completely (principle shooting finished in 2009), which is to me, and I think you will agree, ironic – as it is some of the best work of their careers (it is, and I do agree). They’re just kooky, you’ve lived out here, I don’t have to tell you, but people are strange, you’d think that they would celebrate what we have achieved, but they are artists.”

Joseph White picks up, “They can’t let their guard down. They are very sensitive and that is exactly what makes them great artists in their own right. This film was pretty naked for them, it was raw, and this has been said to us a lot - that unless there is a groundswell of acclaim after it comes out, they’ll stay away, but if that happens they will come back very quickly. That makes complete sense, and I understand. I really have tremendous empathy for what an actor does, and you can’t judge their behavior alongside what normal people experience, especially when it comes to something as difficult as acting in a film – it’s a very odd thing, and I get it, but sure, it hurts.”

Dealing with the temperament of actors on the backside of the process, I asked Rosenbaum about the front end, as this is his directorial debut. A debut which I originally referred to in my earlier review of the film last year as, “The best directorial debut I’ve seen since Liev Scheiber’s excellent Everything Is Illuminated.

Rosenbaum said, “When I started writing this, I had never directed anything. It was just one of those deep seeded realities that I knew I had to do this. It took so long because I was able to study with three or four great theater directors in New York. You can’t just walk on to a set and be a director. It’s been very hard for me, personally. You need to have a lot of confidence.

“There are so many people on a film set – and so few really care, even a fraction of the amount of the people who are making the film. You almost have to be some type of tyrannical figure. But, I try to be nice, and I try to be a gentleman. This has been a hard process because so much of that has been challenged along the way – you just hope to maintain your integrity.

“Filmmaking is like anything in life; it’s just more hyper, more condensed. I worked on Wall Street and trading was similar, especially when it got crazy, but filmmaking is very unique.

“I made this film to understand what exactly it was that I was trying to say. When you work with these great directors who teach you their method, you’re supposed to know the premise and preach it to actors, grips, and gaffers everyday. You are supposed to know everything that you are doing. But it feels like, and I think the great directors are right – but you cannot possibly hold it all, it’s too big. It’s beyond you, and I think that as an artist, if you are true to your work, you come to a point where you realize it is just coming through you, and you should be grateful that it does.”

Coming back to the story, as it always must, as this is, above all, about the story, I get back to asking about the tale. We have an allegory concerning two friends who return to where they began, albeit, much more successfully. The movie comes to its conclusion long after the story between friends has ended. Spyder, the film’s antagonistic focus, who has now twice, in a manner of speaking, sacrificed his friend Eric Gensen, is being interviewed by a rock journalist several years after the story of their friendship has come to its conclusion. I asked Scott Rosenbaum to what end the interview serves.

Scott answers, “The end of the film is oddly cathartic and oddly uplifting. The whole interview sequence was definitely written to be as if it were a confession, with the role of rock journalist Clifton Hangar being played by Lukas Haas. What Lukas was saying to Kevin Zeger’s character Spyder, about the fact that he had given Eric the gift of life, the opportunity to live out his passion – is the same that can be said for Amy Winehouse, or any of these artists, and there are so many others who died earlier, or similarly – Keith Moon, John Bonham, James Dean, those people, it’s sad that they died when they did, but at the same time they have been able to experience their passion, and that is the message that Luke gives to Spyder. That kind of frees him – it is easy to feel bad that someone did not live to a ripe old age, but equally sad is how many people who have lived to be a ripe old age that were miserable for a long time.

“There has always been that pull towards rock and roll – because it is life, it’s the alternative to the deaths, which is the whole irony of the whole thing. It goes back to what you said about this being an allegory. It’s hard to talk about if you are a writer. As a writer if you say you’re making an allegory, it feels like you’re making out like you’re some pretentious asshole.”

I get the feeling of being wrapped inside of a play that’s wrapped inside of a movie that is wrapped inside of the life of the very gifted Scott Rosenbaum. This is a great and ancient story couched in a stunning, and eerie depiction of a rock and roll band, but maybe even more about its author, but I’m going to back away from that notion to get some more words from Joseph White, on the movie’s message.

Joseph White said, “It’s unfortunate, but part of the message of this film is about the darker side of success. Part of the message is a warning that it is not all glamorous and wonderful, it is hard work, and if you aren’t careful, and you lose yourself, you’re gonna get hurt. The reality of taking a character on such an adventure across the country, and he hits this peak, and it’s like, ‘my music came out and I am finally going to get full recognition, I am going to get to play my music. Here’s a fucking Porsche, and I fell in love along the way,’ and life couldn’t get any better for Eric when he steps into that party. The guy goes out on top. He found his father in August West (Peter Fonda), he found his mother in Rose Atropos, he found his music, and all of it. Unfortunately, he has to face a bitter moment before his demise, but he goes out on top.”

I realize that I may have created a bit of confusion here by not giving more details concerning the film’s plot, and the story’s background, but this is no mistake, no mere accident. It is solely my device to make you watch this movie. It’s a fine, fine film, and as I have stated previously and ad nauseum, I do not like very many films about rock – most aren’t worth watching, but this film gets better with repeated viewings and I want that for you the reader, the viewer.

However, I would be wrong to not touch on the film’s outstanding soundtrack, which is comprised of several excellent original songs written for the movie by Steve Conte (New York Dolls, Michael Monroe) and Andrew Hollander, and an amazing roster of classic rock and blues tunes. In fact, I wondered about the licensing process for so many great songs and Joseph White offered some very interesting anecdotes.

White on the music industry, “People can say whatever they want about the music industry, but I have to tell you that the music industry really supported this film. There was just one single band, one song, one set of lawyers, and it was Alice In Chains, who said no – and I had to let go of the song.

“I called Bob Dylan’s representative (he doesn’t like the term manager) – if I had to attach meaning to the word Mensch, I would attach it to this man, and I don’t do this lightly because it is a special thing, but he’s the guy. He said to me, ‘Listen, man – you take that DVD license down, and you take the most favored nations clause out of that contract, and you tell everyone that Bob Dylan did that for you, and if Bob Dylan can do it, they can do it. That was incredibly fucking cool. I used that a lot, too. I used it with Sony, Universal, and EMI and they all respected that, ‘Wow, if Bob Dylan will do that, and he is the toughest licensing guy out there, then I guess we should.’

“I explained our situation, and most people were like, ‘OK,’ and some said, ‘Let me talk to this or that person, and get back to you,’ but overall, most were very supportive of this film. My experience with the music business has been very positive and I want them to have that recognition.”

Scott Rosenbaum adds, “The whole Alice in Chains experience was very heartbreaking, and I don’t know if we need to know, or if we should expound on it, but I’d like the story told, and if anyone could tell it, it should be you. I don’t know the entire truth, but supposedly the band was who were squabbling over what really came down to very little money. The day they said no, or maybe it was the day before, their former bass player, Mike Starr, had just died of a drug overdose. And we offered to donate the difference – it wasn’t so much about the money as it was about contracts with other companies and artists. We offered to donate the balance to a substance abuse charity in his and Layne Staley’s names and they just said no.

“I had put the song in the film to begin with because so much of the film deals with things such as the theft of old blues songs, and the deaths of so many great musicians, and to put Layne Staley in there seemed appropriate, not because he was 27, but because his story is so much a part of the history.”

The producer had a final few words about the film, “I’ve seen how people react to this film, and they like to have a good time after it. It’s a dark ending, yet there is a catharsis that the audience leaves with that I never understood, yet I am fascinated by it and I feel with proper exhibition, it’s a good thing.

“It is entertainment, it is rock and roll. When I go to rock concerts I sit there and I think, God, that’s what church should feel like. I should walk out of a church feeling like I do right now – so hyped and so whatever you walk out of there with, and this film is electric. This film gets people to respond, this film is a confession! A lot of people walk away with a very good feeling, and that really makes me happy. I have always believed as an artist that those who can should, and I’d like to continue to get out there in whatever capacity we can, if we can. We’ll see.”

The Perfect Age of Rock ‘N’ Roll opens August 5th in New York, Los Angeles, and Dallas, and everywhere On Demand

Friday, May 15, 2020

The Moping Swans Were Home (ever too briefly)





Blame it on the Monument Club. It all started on a Wednesday evening in December of 2004 at Wings (a joint many of you know well). 

For the three of you that don’t know, Wings is a bar and grill best known for being the de facto clubhouse for the rag tag bunch of reprobates and bruisers from Bobby Pollard’s past known as the Monument Club. I’m writing this as an exclusive to the Guided By Voices Facebook group, but since I’m sure this will be seen elsewhere eventually, I’ll now explain that the Bobby Pollard I’ll be referring to is rock legend Robert Pollard, the rock legend who is Guided By Voices.

Pollard and I met in the little league days back in Northridge, a working class neighborhood in Dayton, Ohio.

Dayton is a strange town, a test market for America known for being the “Birthplace of Aviation,” and the longtime home of the Wright Brothers. Another little known fact about Dayton is the fact that this nondescript Midwestern city is that it was once responsible for contributing more patents to the national trust than any other city in America. Amongst a hot bed of mediocrity, the town has a streak of undeniable genius running through it. Bobby Pollard is one of those diamonds in this rough hewn town.

What is there to do in Dayton? Well, there’s drinking, and then there’s drinking. I believe this provides a lack of distractions that let’s the genius develop.

I knew none of this when I came to know Bob.

I was ten years old, and Pollard was a little league baseball legend already. He was a few years older, and had a reputation as a furious fast ball thrower whose temper was often as furious as his fast ball. Our teams squared off several times, so we knew of each other a bit as little leagers do.


A few years later, Bob and my brother were hanging out and discovering rock ‘n’ roll, and as a younger fellow I started tagging along.

Eventually Bob and I started trading albums and the joys of plunging deep into the crazy world od Trouser Press, Melody Maker, NME, Creem, and other such rock rags of the day.

As time went on we eventually played together in our first band, Anacrusis. I’m sure the intended readers here know the rest of the Pollard story, so I’ll fast forward.

After many years on the West Coast, I had returned to Dayton and was welcomed into the fold of the Monument Club brotherhood of mannish boys.

Since returning to Dayton I had recorded for Bob his cover of “Bristol Girl” for the tribute album, Matter Dominates Spirit - Jim Shepard Tribute in 2001, and contributed to the production of the Motel of Fools album, but that had been the extent of our musical involvement. We hadn’t made any music together. And this bugged me.

It bugged me for no big deal other than the fact that everything we had ever done playing together was pretty fucking magical. Bob was fond of telling people that it was I who taught him that a guitar should be struck with a certain velocity, and not strummed gently. True to this day that.

So, one December night in 2004 in a drunken moment in Wings (weren’t they all?), I drunkenly asked Bob, “When are we going to make a record together?”

He drunkenly responded, “How about next month?” I said sure.


We didn’t discuss it again for a few weeks, when one night he dropped by with a cassette of a six song set of demos that featured just Bob and an acoustic guitar. He told me to create arrangements, and that we would record in February.

For the next month, I worked out the framework for the Moping Swans EP. Many of the arrangements were very guitar-centric and involved, but I trimmed them down considerably to what you now here. We were a four piece guitar army with one afternoon to record. Just a four piece rock band bashing away.

You may at some point wonder what a moping swan might be.

A moping swan is a penis to tired to rise to the occasion.

Indeed, our lineup was superb. Myself, Bob, Greg Demos, and super-drummer Jim MacPherson. A bunch of over forty rockers with a leader who had just ended (so we all thought) his long running band Guided By Voices.

This was to be Bob’s first release since collapsing his long running indie rock juggernaut.


I had given everyone the fleshed out demos and we were going to rehearse one time at a rehearsal space I had off of Wayne Avenue on a Friday night. We were recording band demos the next day ain the basement studio of Dennis Mullins, a longtime fixture on the Dayton music scene, which after many years in Los Angeles I knew nothing about to be honest.

Bass man Greg Demos was drunk and terrified. He was in an extremely busy period lawyering, and had almost no time to listen, let alone properly learn the material.

Perfect, I thought, the animal in his native environment. We couldn’t go wrong. And, of course, Demos passed the exam with flying colors.


Due to someone not bringing Bob an amp, we never practiced.

Miraculously, but not surprisingly we slammed through the demo recording. We would reconvene a week later in Kent, Ohio at the studio of Todd Tobias.

It was great to finally play in a guitar band with Bob. I knew we’d be good together. I was Buck Dharma to the “stun guitar” of Eric Bloom. I’ve always loved Bob’s guitar playing. His left hand game isn’t fancy, but his right hand is friggin’ golden. His timing is impeccable when he’s whacking an electric guitar, and I knew exactly how to wind my playing around his. I like to think the proof is in the pudding. Give a close listen to Bob’s right hand. His guitar is cleaner in tone and he usually kicks off the song and then I try to weave my way around him. Great fun!

For any guitar geeks, Bob was playing a Gibson SG ‘61 Reissue (thanks Tom Byrne!) through his Music Man HD130 2x12 combo, and I played my Mark Kaiser built Gibson Les Paul ‘59 Burst replica through Tom Byrne’s Mesa Boogie 22 Caliber 1x12 combo that was dimed. I believe we were both recorded by Shure SM57s on the speaker cones.

We arrived in Kent on a frosty February morning having convoyed up from Dayton for the three hour ride.

We had a few laughs as we loaded in and got to work. We had to complete the instrumental tracks on Saturday (all live - no overdubs, except for the added after the fact flowery keyboards that show up on a few tracks. Somewhere I have a CD of just the four piece band version, and I find it wickedly superior.), and Bob would record his vocals on Sunday. Bing, bang, boom.

We set up, plugged in, and line checked. All good.

We were recording in the sequence you hear today.


We did a first take of “Beaten By The Target.” I don’t think there was a bit of eye contact aside from me watching Bob’s right hand. We were all pretty hyper focused.

Todd walked out after we were done. We were sheepishly grinning at each other like school kids. He was slowly shaking his head. He looked up at Bob, and said, “I think that was a take. Do you want to hear it?”

Of course we did, and when we heard it, our sheepish grins turned to shit eating grins. The same grins Bob and I may have exchanged when we finished our first song at our first gig 27 years earlier.

We went back out and blazed our way through the rest of the song list. As I recall, nothing took more than two takes, and the most time was taken up sorting out a cable issue going into the drum room, just a normal technical gaff, which you are going to have on occasion. 

I believe we were done in about three hours.

I also believe there’s a reason we were able to knock the job out so quickly, and to such satisfaction.

Jim MacPherson.

I’ve played with some great drummers in my life. Bruce “Smitty” Smith, Ted McKenna, Hunt Sales, the late great Cozy Powell, and I will now tell you that my friend Jimmy Mac is as great as any.

He never dropped a single beat throughout the session that I could discern, and I have a shitty picky ear for such things.

Yes, he drove this tank to the general’s commands. Anyone in the world would be proud to call Jim MacPherson their Ringo.


He made my job as musical director quite easy, and the bedrock tracks were done, and we were off to the bar. I won’t tell you the worst of it, but I remember at one point we had commadeered the women’s bathroom at a local dinner joint. Boys will be boys...

I remember at the sessions, and looking at Demos (who was playing remarkably well), and thinking he looked like the cat who ate the mouse as he cranked out tune after tune.

Bob lead the guitar army with his brilliant right hand and aggressive rhythm work, and I just gloriously bashed away with my usual over the top obnoxiousness. 

I will say that the high point of the session, aside from my great joy of making music with Bob again (but in a way we had never done before) was knocking out the one take solo on “Look At Your Life.”

I knew Bob’s catalog was never jam packed with flashy solos (appropriately so), but that’s what he asked for, “Big assed arena rock,” as I recall, so I gave it to him.


It was all shockingly easy, amazingly pleasurable, and remains to this moment one of my life’s great memories.

We drug our most likely still buzzed butts back to Todd’s the next day to cheer Bob on as he laid down his vocal tracks. He made incredibly short work of it, and I believe our caravan was headed back to Dayton by one o’clock.

And that’s about it! I’m writing this through a haze of three heavy duty pain medications, so I hope I’ve covered the most of it as I remember it!

Thanks to the nearly 9,000 of you who have inspired me to finally write this down. For a guy who’s earned his way writing about rock it’s surprising that I’ve never written about this, but there is a whole other bittersweet side of this that makes me keep it safe in a drawer.

I’ve not spoken to Bobby Pollard for many years. I hate this, and I miss him fiercely. I’d like to see that someday remedied. So much love to Bob, the band, and anyone reading this.

I’ve always been thrilled that Bob gave this crazy bastard the opportunity to be a Moping Swan. I served proudly.