While we are awash in festivals, our generation has not produced a definitive festival film, like Monterey Pop or Woodstock. Then again, those were one of a kind, generational-defining events that have been endlessly idealized by baby boomers. There have been films about Glastonbury and Coachella, but they were lazily assembled and there was little distinctive about them. Perhaps the most interesting music film of the decade is the Burn to Shine series, in which bands from a particular city (Chicago, Portland) are filmed playing a house or building that is slated for demolition. All Tomorrow’s Parties is not as well know as the big festivals, but it is possibly the most impressive one of the decade and has become a cottage industry, sponsoring concerts, releasing CDs and spawning festivals in other countries. Named after a Velvet Underground song, ATP grew out of the Bowlie Weekender, a holiday camp inspired festival put together by Belle and Sebastian’s Stuart Murdoch and held at the English seaside town of Camber Sands in 1999. Barry Hogan took it over, renamed it and set it up as an “alternative to bigger festivals.” Aside from the high caliber of the acts, two of its distinctive features are the dorm-style lodgings for the artists, which led Nick Cave to call it “Auschwitz with good music,” and its practice of choosing one band to “curate” the event. The curator plays, of course, but also selects the line-up. Past curators include Sonic Youth, Sleater-Kinney, Portishead, Mogwai, Dirty Three and Slint. “Simpsons” creator Matt Groening is curating next year’s festival.
Though the festival has expanded to the U.S. and Australia, this film, recently released on DVD concentrates on the shows in Camber Sands and Minehead. Compiled from footage shot over the years and by dozens of people, including musicians and fans, this is less a concert film and more a audio/visual scrapbook. Is there some great footage? Yes. Does it hang together as a film? Not really. I’ll get my main complaint, which I have with many recent music films, either about events (Glastonbury) or individuals (P.J. Harvey), out of the way: it lacks full performances of songs. Too often songs are cut off in the middle or begin part way through. Nick Cave and the Bad Seed’s side band Grinderman does a raw, incendiary version of “No Pussy Blues,” but it cuts away form them before they finish. Madness! Incidentally, Cave, who curated a recent Australian ATP, has one of the film’s funniest interchanges with violinist/guitarist Warren Ellis, who says “I stopped listening to Nick Cave when I joined the Bad Seeds.” Cave replies, “That’s the quote of the year.”
If anything, there’s too much material here, which may account for its scattershot nature. And since it was directed by committee,-although Tarnation director Jonathan Cauette gets a co-credit- it doesn’t have a lot of uniformity or personality. Despite the originality of ATP, the film offers a familiar mix of live footage, artists talking, fans talking, crowds rocking out, and even some bad dancing. A series of films, each one featuring the highlights from a specific year may have been a more fruitful approach.
However, it’s not without it’s great moments. Pound for pound, ATP may be the strongest festival in the world, offering a who’s who of the decade’s best and most influential bands: Animal Collective, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Shellac, Portishead, Sonic Youth, Mogwai, and Boredoms, among others. There are some memorable scenes: Portishead’s normally restrained Beth Gibbons jumping into the crowd, a mostly white British crowd flashing the Wu-Tang sign for GZA, comedian David Cross starting to tell a joke about Jesus and getting heckled, upon which he turns to the camera: “It’s not going very well.” At its best, it highlights the loose, spontaneous nature of ATP. Daniel Johnston sits down on the lawn and starts strumming, giving it a nice day on the college quad feel. Other one of a kind OMG fan moments include David Pajo and Warren Ellis exchanging pleasantries, Grizzly Bear leading a sing-along on the beach, and Natasha Khan (Bat for Lashes) blissfully frolicking on the lawn. It does feel a little bit like indie rock camp, where the bands freely mingle with each other and there’s a communal spirit, free from the corporate sponsorship, mook crowd and bullshit of the big festivals
As with many recent concert films, it is plagued by editing issues and extraneous footage. Is badly shot black and white nighttime footage of some people trying to find a party really necessary? Or Thurston Moore interviewing fans about “youth culture” and the “bogus capitalistic process,” asking questions when he obviously just wants to hear himself talk? There is also the use of non-ATP random footage, like deliberately cheesy shots of people swimming or playing tennis, birds talking off, or kids playing video games, which gives it a sloppy music video (or YouTube) feel. There are clips of spiritual forerunners that do feel appropriate, like Iggy Pop, defining punk, Patti Smith (both of whom have played ATP), Sun Ra and somewhat incongruously, Jerry Garcia. Alongside the closing credits, Patti Smith performs “Rock ‘n’ Roll Nigger” and tells the crowd, “This world is fucked up, but you still have a right to feel joy,” which would be a pretty good epigraph for the festival.
Still, given their impeccable line-ups over the year, the movie feels inadequate and incomplete. The filmmakers didn’t need to reinvent the form here, just show us a lot more full songs from the bands.
by Lukas Sherman
