“Immediate Family,” a new rock doc now playing in theatres, and available December 17 to rent or buy on the Apple TV app and other VOD platforms, is a feature length look at musicians you’ve listened to your whole life.
“I would buy records just because they were on it,” says Phil Collins.
They were to the 1970s singer-songwriter era what The Funk Brothers were to Motown or The Wrecking Crew to Los Angeles based pop music. They were the four names that graced the back covers of albums by singer-songwriter Hall-of-Famers like James Taylor, Keith Richards, Jackson Browne, Linda Ronstadt, Carole King, Stevie Nicks and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young.
“The creative input of these session guys cannot be overstated,” says Taylor.
Legendary session musicians, drummer Russ Kunkel, bassist Leland Sklar, and guitarists Danny Kortchmar and Waddy Wachtel, are the Immediate Family, a group who’ve played together on-and-off for more than fifty years, and treat one another as brothers, hence the band’s name.
The story brings together each of their stories, from Kortchmar’s first exposure to James Taylor, when both their families were vacationing on Martha’s Vineyard, to Sklar admitting he hides his insecurities behind his trademark ZZ Top-worthy beard to Kunkel’s story about being kicked out of the 5th grade orchestra.
Each has a tale to tell, and, of course, there are accounts of excess on the road and studio stories galore, but director Denny Tedesco isn’t interested in a tell-all or gossip. The most rock ‘n roll moment comes when Linda Ronstadt says she always won their tour bus poker games because she “was the sober one.”
“Hammer of the Gods” this is not. Instead, this is a warm-hearted story of friendship and music.
There is an undeniable chemistry in their group interviews, as they share a lifetime of experience punctuated with lots of laughs. It doesn’t dive deep. This is a hangout movie with great music. To that end, Tedesco makes sure to include lots of archival musical footage, bolstered by newly shot performances.
Tedesco, the director best known for his doc “The Wrecking Crew,” is clearly a fan and while “Immediate Family” is a companion piece to movies like “Echo in the Canyon” and “20 Feet from Stardom,” it doesn’t have the same in-depth flavor. Still, as a snapshot of an iconic era, it’s a bit of fluffy fun.
On today’s “What’s Entertaining” on NewsTalk 1010, host John Moore and I talk about the passing of David Crosby, the charges against Alec Baldwin over the on set shooting, and actor Austin Butler, who seems to be cursed with speaking like Elvis for the rest of his life.
David Crosby has eight stents in his heart, the most you can have, and a laundry list of famous former colleagues with whom he no longer speaks. “All really dislike me, strongly,” he says.
He’s a jailbird, a two-time Rock and Roll Hall of Famer, and is still gunning for a third induction, just to make Eric Clapton jealous. He’s a guy who says he wants to be loving, but admits to alienating people in his life with a temper he cannot control. He’s a prickly pear with the voice of an angel and the subject of “David Crosby: Remember My Name,” a new documentary that transcends the usual rock doc career retrospective to create an unflinching portrait of the man one bandmate called “insufferable.”
Directed by A.J. Eaton and featuring interviews by Cameron Crowe, who first interviewed Crosby in 1974, the movie hits all the points you expect. From a Hollywood childhood with a cinematographer father who never told his son he loved him, to the heady days of the Laurel Canyon scene that gave birth to The Byrds and Crosby, Stills and Nash (and later Young) to hanging out with The Beatles and being dumped by Joni Mitchell in a song, his early days are amply covered. Fast forward to the darker stuff, heroin addiction (“Addiction takes you over like fire takes over a burning building,” he says.), the death of his longtime girlfriend Christine Hinton and a stretch in a Texas prison for drug and weapon charges. All are covered with extraordinary candor by filmmaker and subject alike.
“David Crosby: Remember My Name” never feels like a shill for Crosby or an advertisement for a new record. Although it contains biographical elements and plenty of nicely chosen archival footage, it’s not a Ken Burns style historical piece. Instead it’s a deeply felt tribute to a man who has left his mark but wants more. Crosby’s face brims with emotion as he discusses the past and concern as he talks about the future. “I’m afraid of dying, and I’m close,” he says. “I’d like to have more time.” It’s those moments that separate “Remember My Name” from the average bio. In an era of curated celebrity content the honesty on display here, coupled with some truly great music, is refreshing and fascinating.
Laurel Canyon, a nexus of 60s counterculture located in the Hollywood Hills, was home to a generation of singer-songwriters who shaped the music that dominated the baby boomer heyday of commercial radio. “It was the one place you could live that was the antithesis of the plastic straight world you saw on television,” says longtime resident Jackson Browne. “It was always a hangout for bohemians,” says Mamas and Papas singer Michele Phillips and now it is the subject of an entertaining documentary, “Echo in the Canyon.”
The movie’s framework comes from a 2015 tribute concert featuring songs made famous by Laurel Canyon acts like Buffalo Springfield, the Mamas and the Papas and the Beach Boys. “The music that came out of the Laurel Canyon scene in the 60’s was not only inspiring to other bands at that time,” says Jakob Dylan, “but also became inspiring to my generation. Tonight is an opportunity, like folk music, to pass it on to a new generation and keep the echoes of that music going.”
Between live performances from artists like Beck, Fiona Apple, Regina Spektor and Norah Jones, Dylan interviews a who’s who of California Sound-era superstars like David Crosby and Roger McGuinn of the Byrds, Buffalo Springfield’s Stephen Stills, Michelle Phillips, producer Lou Adler and Brian Wilson, about whom Tom Petty, in his last filmed interview, says, “I don’t see anything in Mozart that is better than Brian Wilson.” Other accounts of those times come from John Sebastian and Eric Clapton.
They often say if you can remember the 60s you weren’t really there, but the talking heads here seem to have no trouble recalling the details of the Canyon’s early days. Adler remembers exactly where the musicians sat during the Mamas and the Papas’s first recording session and Ringo Starr says the Byrds turned the Beatles on to a “hallucinogenic situation” when they first met. A mix of contemporary sounds and nostalgia, it paints an apolitical (you would never know that Vietnam was raging during the time documented) picture of a creative collaboration that saw artists competing with one another to expand the limits of what rock music could be. “You can listen to the records,” says Stephen Stills, “and you can hear the cross-pollination.”
Ultimately this isn’t a history of a generation but an enjoyable look at a brief period that still echoes in the imaginations and ears of many fans. “These records came like an avalanche,” Beck says of LPs like “Pet Sounds,” “and there was nothing like them before.”
