This article first appeared in the St. Louis Beacon, Dec. 6, 2012 - Last week’s Second Set was sparked by a newly released DVD from Earwacks, later redubbed Wax Theatricks, based on a live show in the summer of 2011. In spending time with that music, I came to realize that longer-form video projects like this have a lot of appeal. With interviews, archival photos and new performances, they provide context. But there’s a magic in short-form videos, too.
My memory machine’s been on overdrive of late, combing through YouTube. And three videos, in particular, are good reminders of certain periods of life. Actually, in the case of two of them, they give me a feeling of wanting to have been born a decade earlier. Go figure.
(Note: the following referenced video has been removed from view since this article was first written.)
‘Surf’s Up, Gang!’
Music by The Obvious,
dir. by Ed Mantels-Seeker and Tony Patti, 1981
This is a music video with a message. The new wavers are dancing on the riverfront, enjoying the surf sounds of The Obvious (featuring Patti on guitar/vocals, Alex Mutrux on guitar, Jim Saltsider on bass, and drummer Kevin Brueseke). Then the punks arrive. At first they hassle the new wavers, but the music overcomes them and in roughly four-minutes, peace is achieved through the dual appeals of danceable sound and physical movement.
Shot in the fall of ‘81, the video was conceptualized by Patti, who’s penned nice liner notes about the production at his site, The Change Music Variety Show. Of the track, he says that it’s a song members of the Obvious liked from the start. “So the lineup that perfected the song was Kevin Brueseke, who sculpted the mammoth classic surf beat that defines the song now [and] Alex Mutrux, who added some brilliant guitar harmonies and one of the defining riffs of the instrumental section of the song.”
One of the pretty young things dancing in the video is Steve Pick. Asked about the shoot, he says “that was a fun, fun thing. Tony Patti and his friend Ed Mantels-Seeker recruited as many of us in the ‘scene’ to come down and be in this movie. Believe it or not, at the time, I was unfamiliar with the concept of a music video; we always referred to this as a film. I figured I would go with as ridiculous a look as I could put together - swim trunks, sure, but with a pair of long socks and shoes. … I had no idea how the whole thing was going to be put together, so I just acted goofy and moved wherever Ed told me to move. I definitely remember several members of the cast going to a little ice cream parlor on the Landing after filming one of the times.”
There’s a lot to like about the video today. It’s fun to see people you’ve known (or known of) for 31 years looking different, but strangely the same. Similarly, the location (namely, at the base of the Eads Bridge) has changed only moderately in the intervening years, with a whole lotta blank, underutilized space still found along those famous banks. And, of course, there’s the music, which captures a St. Louis group of that moment in their short-lived prime.
As Pick says, the video came out when bands weren’t routinely putting out projects of this sort. Thirty years on, every group in town seems to be recording some type of live set, with rack-focus videography and edit-free, one-takes the rule, not the exception. But today’s groups aren’t, generally, playing with this type of form. That fun, story-based form that dominated music video style throughout the ‘80s? Thanks to Patti and friends, we had it going on in St. Louis, too.
‘Cornerstone’
Music by The Treeweasels
dir. by Scott Roever, 1991
In some respects, the dancing kids of “Surf’s Up, Gang!” had an effect on me that I’ve been publicly repressing for about three decades. Coming up in the music scene after them, I knew that they’d planted all the meaningful flags. They’d populated the first new wave nights at hoosier bars. They’d published the first alternative music zines. They’d been regulars at the first punk clubs, some of those venues already dead by the time I came into some semblance of awareness. Collectively, they’d laid claim to the founding of something new and cool and best of all, they’d documented it, in a style that looks and feels fantastic even today. (And, to be honest, they were ones at the record counter, eye-rolling at my teen record purchases of GTR, The Firm, Asia. Those looks of exasperation, thinking back, were probably deserved.)
A decade later, though, I started to figure things out. And, early after seeing them, I knew The Treeweasles were my kind of band. Writing for the RFT on a near-weekly basis, I spilled regular ink on the Weasels, to the point that it probably became counterproductive. But they were so, so good. On a given night, they were best band in town, with their intensely played blend of what was coming to be known as Americana; the Weasels always played along the edges of country a lot harder than their contemporaries.
Though it had lineup changes through the years, the group that initially recorded the song “Cornerstone” was a solid, versatile band. Vocalist/guitarist EJ Fitch and guitarist Scott Roever were always around, augmented by longtime drummer Danny Kathriner and, for this period, bassist Patrick Conway. Reflecting the group’s general vibe, Roever shot “Cornerstone” as a performance video, dominating the action with material shot in the hay loft of his parent’s southwest Illinois farm; the supplemental live footage comes from a show at Washington University’s Gargoyle, on a night the group played with The Finns.
Ever the perfectionist, Roever now says that the farm-themed interstitials were added to reflect the band’s look, “we had a rural theme going in the band, with all the DeKalb hats and flannel shirts and country-punk sounds, so it kind of fits. I hate the cheesy MTV-like song title/credit at the opening, but back then it was the thing to do. My favorite thing going on in this video is the overlapping of shots. If I had to do it all over again, I would do a lot more overlapping of shots, but with an edit order that made more sense. The barn shots are done on video, but with a stutter effect on it in editing that gave it more of a film look. The live gig is video, but the rest of the shots are film - the clouds, the combine, the trees, etc., all film.”
Roever says he was working as a media tech at Webster University at the time, so he could grab recording and editing time on the fly. The result reflects, as Roever says, a look of that moment. And that’s totally appropriate. Especially as it captures the energy the band brought to their live performance.
At times, during live shows, it appeared someone was going to spear a bandmate; even during the video shoot, the group pantomimed like they meant it, Fitch nearly falling out of the barn in spectacular fashion. The group played every live show with a sort of hyperkenesis, especially Conway, who was in perpetual motion onstage.
The band left behind a small handful of CDs, eventually morphing into the pop group EJ Quit, minus, as the name suggests, EJ Fitch. As The Treeweasels, they played a few, scattered reunion shows, though Fitch and Roever now record and perform as Soma JetSet.
Through the years, I viewed the Weasels as pretty much the top rock band of my nightly-at-clubs era. For that reason, I haven’t seen Soma JetSet. But I need to correct that oversight, catch some new songs, see what the boys are up to today. After all, there’s always YouTube, there’s always “Cornerstone” for the need-a-good-memory moment.
'Reality Truncated or How I Learned to Stop Complaining and Love St. Louis'
Sound design by John Consiglio and Ron Bowman
dir. by RD Zurick, 1981/2011
Phone issues earlier this week prevented me from chatting with RD Zurick, the creator of this video, truncated, itself, on YouTube from its original, 15-minute version. But I like to think I’ve seen enough of his work over the years to have a feeling of what he was after when creating this fantastic, quick-cut tribute to the people of St. Louis, circa 1981. In fact, almost a year ago to the day, a live event at the Hi-Pointe combined three of Zurick’s videos with the on-the-spot sound sculpting of Consiglio.
A quarter-century ago, Consiglio was the guitarist and, later, vocalist of the funk-rock group A Perfect Fit. In more recent times, he’s fronted Black Market Peace, though he’s been more active accompanying various video works.
In the case of “Truncated” at the Hi-Pointe, Consiglio played atop the pre-existing sounds of Bowman, who’d long fallen out of touch with Zurick. In doing so, he created an extra layer of density to a visually rich video.
In his show notes, Zurick said, “Ending the show, Consiglio takes the stage and performs an additional improvised layer of live sound with Zurick’s “Reality Truncated, or How I Learned to Stop Complaining and Love St. Louis.” This new piece is a revitalized exploration of civic festivals around St. Louis, shot in a visually rhythmic manner, and first edited 30 years ago. The piece now takes on a retro film look, and its energetic rhythms fleetingly reveal a myriad of familiar local faces cavorting in the crowds that swarm these festivals of old. Everyone from Mickey Mouse to Stan Musial seems to be glimpsed as the piece dances to Consiglio’s improvisation.”
Familiar places crop up repeatedly, highlighting Downtown parades and street festivals in Benton Park. People like multi-media artist Bob Fishbone, publisher/poet Jeannie Breese and environmentalist Jean Ponzi are spotted. Though they’re here and gone quickly, edited away as soon as recognition is established. They’re there, but ephemeral.
Zurick’s show was a one-off, a special afternoon at the Hi-Pointe Theatre that blended music, video and the good company of people who’ve worked in both media. Having seen “Reality Truncated” once before, I wasn’t expecting to be blown away by the experience, but I must’ve been in a head to have that happen. Maybe it was John Consiglio’s addition to the program, maybe it was the mood of an early-winter afternoon.
That effect’s not alive with the shortened version of “Reality Truncated” found on YouTube. Instead, it’s a classic teaser. It makes you want to see more, makes you want to consume art for the right reasons.