Metro Australia – July 2019

somemillion­dollarmass­entertainmentproductforitstime­

killing validity(as opposedto contemporaryfilm criticismand

reviewing,whichfeellikebeinga stringeronthesuperhero­

moviebeat); instead,you’reexpectedto flag overlooked,

underheard,deep­in­the­undergroundgems.Often,music

critics– and/orradiopresenters!– arefetedas‘tastemakers’,

a labelthatputsforwardtheideathatone’smusicalprefer­

encesandrecordcollectionarebarometersoficonoclastic,

individualtaste.MusicwriterCarlWilson’sveritabledisserta­

tionLet’sTalkAboutLove, itselfa studyin themythofcritical

objectivity,tacklesthishead­on:in a collectionofbooks(the

33 ⅓series)ostensiblydevotedto‘classic’,alwayscredible

albums,heinsteadunpacksCélineDion’s 1997 albumofthe

samename,whichis bothcriticallyreviledandoneofthe

biggest­sellingalbumsofalltime.A 2014reissueofthe 2007

bookexpandedontheidea,evensupplantingitsoriginal

subtitle,A Journeyto the End of Taste, withan ironic one:

WhyOtherPeopleHaveSuchBadTaste.^4

Possessing‘good’taste has led me to a long-simmering

loathingofmusicdocumentaries.A perenniallypopularstaple

of film-festivalprogramsand streaming-servicemenus,the

‘rockumentary’is almostalwaysanartless,inherentlyun­

cinematicaffair. It marshalsthe most tired tropesof nonfic­

tion storytelling– banal direction,stock-footageB roll, static

talkingheads,illustrativeimagery,thesamescanthandful

of archivalimages– in serviceof what’s,usually,sheer nos­

talgia:anairlessorationofhowgreatthepastwas,told

fromthecomfortandsafetyofthepresent.Assomecod

rockhistorian– usuallyHenryRollins,ThurstonMooreor

Bono – offers endlessvariationson the pontification‘before

[artistX],no­onewasdoinganythinglikethis!’,we’retreated

tonarrativesthatseeknottochallengeorprovoke,butto

packageunderappreciatedmusiciansin easilyconsumable

formats,pastrebellionwillinglysubmittedtocontemporane­

ous commodification.In his wry essay collectionCensorship

Now!!(inwhichhedismissesdocumentariesas‘bad­looking,

unnuanced,propagandistictellingsofevents’thatplay‘like

audio-visualpresentationsin a gradeschool’),critic Ian F

Svenonius– otherwiseknownastheelectricfrontmanof

bandslikeNationofUlysses,TheMake­Up,WeirdWarand

Chain& TheGang– mocksrockumentariesas‘dullvenera­

tion’,‘desperateadvertisements’outnotsimplytoburnish

legacy,buttoselloldproductstoa newaudience.^5

There are examplesof filmmakersdeliberatelydistancing

themselvesfromthisestablishedmodel,likeKiwioddball

FlorianHabicht,whoturnedPulp:A FilmAboutLife,Death

& Supermarkets(2014)intoa workofabsurdism,in part

becausehefelt,rightly,that‘[m]ostdocumentariesabout

bandsarereallyboring[...]Theyfeellesslikeartworksthan

promotionalvideos.’^6 Even iconicfilmmakersfall victimto

thatpromotionaltendency:MartinScorsese’sRollingStones

documentary,Shinea Light(2008),is anutterlyuncritical

concertmoviein thralltoitssubjects’celebrity.Closerto

home,localScorseseacolyteKrivStendersmaymaintaina

criticalcynicismwhendepictinghypochondriacsorhitmenin

fictionfeatures,but when it comesto makinga documentary

aboutTheGo­Betweens(2017’sThe Go-Betweens: Right

Here), he just turns into a stan.

Previousspread:BanjoButler,MamaKin,Airling,EccaVandal,
VeraBlueandMontaigneinHerSound,HerStoryAbove:SuiZhen;
a crowd at Gizzfest, bothinNow Sound: Melbourne’s Listening

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