Do It Again

Tonight, we’ve got an important broadcast on Philadelphia’s WHYY. Watch it, tell your friends to watch it and then write into the network and tell them how much you loved the film. (Those of you who don’t love DO IT AGAIN, send me that note… I’ll make sure it gets to, ahem, the proper authorities.)

Thanks to the good folks at the Philadelphia Inquirer, today’s broadcast comes with quite a nice preview. Oregon PBS plays us Jan. 1 and we’re still waiting for word on our broadcast date for Hawaii, though it seems likely for mid-January.

I wasn’t going to see Ray Davies when he came to town this time. I know that sounds nuts. But it’s been a long slog, more than three years since we turned on the cameras to start filming DO IT AGAIN and frankly, with the baby and the house and the regular job, I’ve been swamped. The PBS run has been wonderful. It has also required endless hours of extra work. Sorry, I’m whining. But I’m trying to explain why, after literally begging Ray to watch the film for more than a year and then meet with me – all for the purpose of creating a DVD I can share with you – I’ve sometimes found it hard to just sit in the crowd and cheer. Then, a few weeks ago, word came from London that Ray might be willing to meet and chat about potentially approving DO IT AGAIN for DVD release. (For those of you unfamiliar with the arcane world of music licensing, I need his thumbs-up.) As instructed, I over-nighted a DVD to him in New York. Then I slapped down $77 for a seat in the balcony of the Wilbur and waited. And waited. There were moments I almost felt encouraged. A fellow journalist told me that he asked Ray about the movie during an interview and was told that he had the DVD. But whether Ray watched it or not, we’ll never know.
Because gig night came and still no word from London on a meeting. It was frankly kind of depressing leaving the family at home on Thanksgiving Eve and heading into Boston on my own. I decided to bring a bag of DO IT AGAIN buttons and let folks know I’d be at Jacob Wirth’s before the show. Once there, I found a surprising number of people who had seen DO IT AGAIN and wanted to say hello. Then Frank Lima (aka Dan the Fan) texted me telling me he was over at the Rock Bottom. I headed over there and encountered some of the superfans, many of them on their fourth or fifth or eights gig of the short tour. I also ran into complete strangers who, again, had seen DO IT AGAIN and wanted to say nice things. I realized that this was probably the only night in which I might be a pseudo-celebrity. By now, my London contact had told me to try to hook on with Frank. Why not? Frank’s got Ray’s cell number on his phone. He had tickets for the front table. He’s also been kind about DO IT AGAIN, trying to get Ray’s attention about the film. We left it open how we might proceed post-concert.
The show? I was impressed. Ray played a wonderful version of “Waterloo Sunset” and “Nothin’ in the World Can Stop Me Worryin’ ‘Bout That Girl.” He seemed in wonderful spirits. The set with the choir surprised me. At times, Ray’s voice was overwhelmed by the many singers. But at other times – I think of “Shangri-La” – the choir added a depth and richness. I do wish Ray would have thrown at least a couple of “Workingman’s Café” songs into the mix, but you can’t play everything…
Then, the wait. Frank called as soon as the lights went down and told me to sit tight. Then, he disappeared. I hung with the superfans, first out front until it got too cold, then at the Rock Bottom. Frank wrote, told me he wasn’t in yet. I talked to TA. and Frank Reda and Michelle Pedretti (from Italy!). We each got a drink. Frank wrote again. This time, he had been able to get in but Ray was already taking off. He had to get the bus to Toronto.
It was all sort of depressing, though I’m not sure why. We made a movie which we’re proud of. It appears lots of folks have seen it. The film is going to continue to be on PBS stations – the Philadelphia Inquirer just called to arrange an interview in advance of our mid-December screenings. And I got to see Ray playing a killer set list and seemingly healthy and in good spirits. Sure, it’s disappointing that I can’t get the film out on DVD so you folks – the fans – can see it more easily. But the DVD/download issue is one of access, not revenue. I’ll never make money off DO IT AGAIN. I just want to share.
Which gets me to what happened two days later.
It was my birthday last week. I turned 41. So just after getting blown off my Ray, I get a package in the mail from western Massachusetts. The Muswell Hillbillies bought a 45 of “Do It Again” and each member of the band signed the sleeve. They also included a ticket to their Dec. 23 “farewell” show. (I honestly hope it isn’t farewell, which is why I put quote marks around the word.) I immediately went online and purchased a second ticket for Carlene. She should be there, too.
I don’t know what it was about that package. It was theoretically just a record. But if felt like more. It reminded me of when I was having trouble with Paul McCartney’s manager and Lila and I were walking to the beach on a summer morning and she said, “who cares about Paul McCartney. He’s in every movie.” At that moment, I could suddenly let Paul’s footage go.
Not that Ray’s off the hook. I still intend to nag and plead and work out something so I can get you all DVDs of DO IT AGAIN. But I care a lot more about a bunch of people I do know – my extended Kinks family – sending me a thoughtful gift on my birthday than a brilliant, eccentric, artistic stranger (and rock hero) blowing me off on a Wednesday night.

The latest Dave interview tells us that there could be a reunion, provided it only requires Ray and Dave to hang out for an hour. In other words, don’t count on it. I know these stories periodically emerge and I try to ignore most of them. But why not float Dave’s quote out there: “I love my brother, I just can’t stand to be with him.”

I’m a big Beach Boys guy, or Brian Wilson guy. And that’s why I’m still kind of stunned that I hold a genuine pre-release copy of the SMiLE box in my paws. For the uninitiated, SMiLE is the most famous record that never came out. This is what Brian created after “Pet Sounds” and for a variety of reasons – we won’t get into them here – the album was shelved in 1967. It didn’t just end the competition between the Beach Boys and Beatles. It really marked the end of Brian as a vital creative force. It would take years before he could even really crawl out of bed and back into the studio. That’s SMiLE. As I explore the box – which I’m writing about for the Boston Globe, hence I get it to check it out before the November release – I think of how it relates to the Kinks. So much of what Brian Wilson recorded has been unreleased. SMiLE. Landlocked. Adult Child. Sweet Insanity. The Paley Sessions. And countless unreleased songs. If I’m honest with myself, I’ll admit that some of these songs are godawful. Brian basically singing for cheeseburgers, his voice reduced to a hoarse groan by chain-smoked cigarettes. Yet I love these sessions. They feel so special because of how I discovered them, from other fans, on the original Napster, in record stores on trips to New York. Even if you paid $29 for Brian’s unreleased big band record, you felt as if you were getting a secret widow into the creative process and the psyche (for better or worse) of a tortured genius. Wait. Is there another tortured genius in the house? Are you listening Ray? We’ve all got our favorite Kinks bootlegs and outtakes. But what if whole slabs of Kinks history were relegated to the archives? Imagine if Preservation Act ! and 2 were an unassembled, unconnected group of boots we had to guess our way through? Because as SMiLE reaches my door, I’m feeling a weird sadness that it actually exists in released form. It’s like when the Red Sox finally won the World Series. It felt unbelievable in the moment but you were left thinking… what next?

Of course, Ray is no Brian Wilson. He’s not about to get bullied by his bandmates or the record company wankers. You don’t like my new record? Kiss my arse. That’s Ray. That’s why, instead of cobbling together the rock opera chapter of Kinks history, we’ve got the material in front of us, sequenced, remixed and presented in full.

So we’re getting down to the wire. And if you know the rules of Kickstarter, you know that unless we reach our goal, we lose all of the money pledged so far. That means I need to raise about $1,300 in the next 49 hours. Or else the $1,700 already pledges goes bye-bye.

Can it be done? Of course. But we need your help.

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/775822192/bringing-do-it-again-our-kinks-film-to-tv

You’ve seen the rewards section. If there’s anything else you’d like that’s not listed there, let me know. Everything is for sale at this point!

Need some motivation? Here’s a sneak look at our ad for tomorrow’s screening.

Eric paid for the lobster casserole, a generous act from somebody who has already, as they say, given at the office. (His cheerful replies to my regularly e-mailed questions can’t possibly be the norm for filmmaker-handling; with hundreds of films, he wouldn’t be able to find time for a cup of coffee if he were to respond to everyone. I am grateful.)

I mentioned the insurance money gap and the short-term 401K loan. Well, this morning, with Carlene off to work and Cal in my arms, I filled out the check and popped it into an envelope. We will be insured.

See?

And here’s my loan application. Bear in mind, I plan on paying that back asap. (Hint, hint: Don’t forget our Kickstarter campaign.)

And here’s Cal sitting by patiently, sorta, as I post photographs of financial documents.

In our old house, we built an addition that required digging four-foot holes, pouring concrete, wiring, plumbing, painting, everything. We took down dropped ceilings, redid two bathrooms, added a brick walkway. And when we were done, and all I had left was to paint the trim around a living room window, I couldn’t do it. For eight years. Sure enough, when we moved in July, that trim had yet to be painted. For some reason, after all that other work, I just couldn’t bring myself to pick up the paint brush.

I think of that now as we approach our TV premiere. (Sept. 15, 9 p.m., WGBH-Boston, Channel 2.) For nearly two years, I scrambled to rent lighting, organize interviews, pick up hard-drives, insure shoots, and, on an almost daily basis, mail off screeners and promo material and festival apps. Then, when the festival run ended, I stopped.

It’s not easy starting again. It took me forever to log the list of video clips in our TV cut. I just kept putting it off. In the end, the task took about 35 minutes. Same for mailing a couple of posters to a fan who offered financial support. My lack of follow-through made me feel even worse. Then, sometime last week, I realized it was time to start again or else.

Here’s what I’ve done in the last few days:
- Pitched stories on DO IT AGAIN to various publications.
- Did interviews with the Concord Journal (my new hometown paper) and Patch.com in Arlington (my old hometown e-paper) and Boston Magazine.
- Arranged to go on WTTK on Friday morning with Jim Braude and Margery Eagan for the weekly quiz show segment (9:30 a.m. – 10 a.m.) to promote DIA.
- Borrowed $3,306 on my 401K to pay our E & O insurance bill. (I know, Mom, not a sound financial move. But the bill’s due Sept. 10 and cash to pay it won’t arrive until Sept. 15. I promise to pay myself back immediately.)
- Sent Morgan Spurlock a note begging him to tweet our Kickstarter campaign. We’ll see about that one. I mean, the dude seems to have a new movie out every month!

And tonight, I get to meet the elusive but hard-working Eric Luskin, our American Public Television czar, for lobster in Chestnut Hill. He zapped me a note earlier today that we added Albany. That’s nine markets. Let’s keep going.

Oh, and I’m heading out now to get a haircut. The last snip was in Turkey in early June. I look like a Muppet. Nobody should look like a Muppet for their TV premiere.

I have an angry stalker. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Along with all of the people who have been so warm and complimentary of DO IT AGAIN, there’s a small segment of the viewing audience that has responded with hostility. The main gripe seems to be the idea that I think it’s okay to pick up a guitar and play a song with Sting. Or to talk about high school. Or to be on camera at all. Director Rob warned me there would be people like this. What he didn’t tell me is that some dude giving out a fake address would write a five-page, typed “open letter to Ray Davies” begging him to block DO IT AGAIN and that this same guy would send the letter to every public television programmer in the country and Ray’s London office.

My favorite part of the screed is when “Marc” attacked Carlene for her supposedly bombastic behavior while photographing a Vanilla Fudge concert at the Regent Theater in Arlington. Never mind that Carlene’s a teacher, not a rock photographer. I can also promise you we weren’t at that show. Vanilla Fudge?

I bring this up in my typically long-winded manner because yes, I’m going to the fundraising well once more. I’m asking for help to pay for DO IT AGAIN’s TV costs. And I ask for help not long after a comment rolled into this website filed from a man purporting to be Ian McLaren. I knew it was a bogus name because, well, it’s Ian McLaren. The messager also provided an Internet address belonging to one of the longtime workers in Ray’s London office. This, despite the fact the IP address can be traced to the States. I suspect this person is “Michael,” my angry stalker.

“Hey Geoff,” Ian writes. “I think both you and your pseudo “Kinks documentary” are full of shit, the way you panhandle money from fellow Kinks fans just so you can tell us all why the Kinks are great.”

There’s more. Such as “Enjoy your little PBS airing, but take heed: the average PBS station janitor has a better chance at getting an audience with Ray Davies than you do” … “Your film will eventually achieve the status it deserves: a forgotten home movie about an embarrassing middle age crisis–and you cheapen the talent of real musicians in duets with your Karaoke-quality guitar playing. Keep it to yourself, mate!”

I told you the dude is angry. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me at all. Is it too much to ask for more? Maybe. Then I think about the fact that “Ian” is right about one thing. We haven’t been able to get an audience with Ray. And because of that, we haven’t been able to get our film approved for DVD. That means these PBS screenings, while fantastic, will not come close to recouping my costs.

So be it. I never did DO IT AGAIN to get rich. I did it so more people would know about my favorite band. Granted, the movie shifted after I found myself unable to get even the slightest bit of cooperation from Ray. But in the end, I did the best I could. If Ray never acknowledges DO IT AGAIN and all I’ve got is the completed film, the warm memories from the festival circuit, and our PBS screenings, I’ll be good. I’ve got a pretty blessed life… a beautiful wife, two fantastic children, a great, new neighborhood and a writing gig that’s fascinating and also pays me enough to pick up the new set of Kinks reissues without guilt. I wonder what Ian/Marc/angry man has.

I am truly sorry he’s pissed. The reality is, I wish I could meet him for a beer or coffee and explain just why I did it. I’d like him to see I’m not trying to make a name off Ray or the Kinks, that I am a true believer who simply let a crazy project get away from him. But as far as I can tell, angry man has used a fake name and fake address, making such an approach impossible. Leave it to me… I get attacked and I contemplate the best way to win him over…

So here’s our last campaign, I hope! Thanks, as always, listening. And as they say… God save the Kinks.

I don’t know why some songs spark an intense, emotion connection while others leave us cold.

For me, I can’t listen to Kathy McCarthy’s version of “Living Life,” Zevon’s “Desperados Under the Eaves” or the Kinks’ “Some Mother’s Son” without actually choking up. How to explain? I can’t. It’s not just the subject matter. I don’t feel teary when “Brick” or “Wish You Were Here” play. It’s the chemical, cosmic beauty of how our brains respond emotionally to art.

Which brings me to the new Warren Zanes record, “I Want to Move Out in the Daylight.” I remember the first time I heard it. April 25, 2010. At the time, it had no name. Warren handed me a burnable CD the night of our Boston screening of DO IT AGAIN. I remember an evasiveness when I asked him of his plans for the songs. He told me that he wasn’t sure when it would come out or if it was going to come out in this form.

And I remember that next day, after the insanity of the sold-out Boston screening and the knowledge that our young son would be born three days later, having “Daylight” on as I drove around doing errands. I listened straight through until I got to “That’s All There Is,” and had to listen to that particular song again.

“That’s All There Is,” to me, summed up why this record had to come out. Like much of “Daylight,” I assumed it was about Warren’s dissolving marriage. The breakup had hit Warren hard and I assume he was unsure of how to deal with the art that came out of it. Because while Warren is a musician and deep thinker, he’s also – and pardon me for sounding like a cliché, but it’s true – a father first. He’s also a student of family dynamics. (You saw DO IT AGAIN, right?) He’s spent a lifetime contemplating his own upbringing – the Zanes clan has never been mistaken for the Cleavers – and I know his desire was never to drop an emotional music bomb on his boys.

That’s what’s so perfect about “That’s All There Is” and so many of the so-called breakup songs on this record. There is the “Here, My Dear” school of breakup records and then there’s “Daylight.” What Warren does is chronicle a universal experience (breakup, midlife crisis) without naming names. It never feels mean or petty. I assume with a little distance, Warren realized that these songs were too good to keep to himself and they also were not damaging to his kids. That’s why you can now buy a copy of “Daylight.”

What does the album sound like? Those of you who saw DO IT AGAIN know that we featured several songs from Warren’s previous solo albums in the film. He’s one of those rare people (along with Yo La Tengo’s Ira Kaplan) who thrives as both an historian/critic and a musician. He has a great pop sensibility and understands the importance of a juicy hook. That’s evident on songs like “Would it Be Wrong to Love You” and “Nothing to Do Now.” In other places, Warren has stripped down his sound, emphasizing his voice and acoustic-instruments to make the record feel more intimate than his previous albums.

So go buy “Daylight.” Warren barely plays out. He’s a grown man with children and he’s never going to be a rock star. (Despite getting blurbs from Tom Petty and Cameron Crowe on this disc.) But he deserves to be heard. And he deserves our support as a member of the DO IT AGAIN family.

Sometime this fall, a group of PBS stations will roll out our 60-minute version of DO IT AGAIN. Here’s the tease that will be used to plug the program.