Do It Again

Congratulations to master artist Dave Plunkert. His poster for “Do It Again” has been accepted into the 2010 Society of Illustrators exhibit in New York City. I’m sure this is just the first of several shows for his razorific image. So let’s give Dave some props. The exhibit runs from Feb. 12 – March 19 at the Society, which is at 128 E. 63rd St NY 10065.

For more Plunkert art, go here: SPUR Design

It is the million dollar question, or perhaps the $45,000 question. What is to become of “Do It Again?” The film has been on the festival circuit since late January. We’ve played about 50 cities and received some excellent reviews. But as you probably noticed, there’s no DVD, no broadcast deal, no theatrical release. First, let me assure you. We are working hard. We’ve had some bites and offers but we’re not yet ready to move forward. One major issue is licensing. If there were no Kinks songs in this film, we would have likely already released it. But when you use other people’s music, you need to pay for it. In our case, that’s complicated by the low budget of our film and the general risk that comes with an independent release. In brief, we ain’t “Juno,” capable of slapping down $10,000 for “Well Respected Man” or some other classic ditty.

After much wrangling and attempts at creative deals, we finally submitted our formal request to the record companies. They were kind enough to give us a deal which, if it goes through, will allow us worldwide licensing for around $40,000 to $50,000. But that’s a big if. First, the artist – and that’s Ray – has to allow us to spend that money. At the moment, a DVD and press packet (and button) is in his hands. We’re waiting for Ray.

If Ray says yes… then we’ve got to sell the film for enough to allow us to pay for the licensing. We’re grown men with families. We’re hesitant to go broker for this movie.

What can you do? Sit tight. Tell people how much you love our movie. Go to the IMDB website and post a few positive comments on there to make up for the cranky dude who said he didn’t like the film six times. And keep following. Because this process is pretty much like everything connected to “Do It Again.” We have no idea where we’ll end up, how we’ll do it and what it might mean. But we’re refusing to stop for any reason, be it financial, psychological, logistical. We are going to do everything within our means to get this film to a wider audience.

God Save the Kinks…

A few minutes ago Jim Muscarella, grand poo-bah of the Royal Flush Festival, called to tell me that we had won the audience award. It’s only fitting. We had a special crowd at the Knitting Factory Saturday night.

And to everybody in New York that night… It was an evening I’ll always remember. We’ve shown our film in sold out rooms before, but what made this special was having so many of the diehards I’ve followed for years – The Fans! – gathering to celebrate the movie. I can’t remember who said it (please, remind me) but one comment during the Q & A really stuck with me. I’m thinking of the guy who said that while this is not the ultimate Kinks movie, it is the ultimate fan movie. And if that’s true, the reason it exists is because of you, the fans. You sent me back to Boston with my expenses paid for (thanks, raffle), a smile (the cheers at the end of “Get Back in Line”) and my ego stroked though, thankfully, Carlene was there to keep me in check when I arrived back in Boston Sunday night with a list of chores that included cleaning dog poop off Lila’s left shoe. An added bonus: If Frank and Bob’s video turns out to be a disaster, I can pretend I was hiding behind my taco! That’s all from here. I hope the next time we gather is to celebrate the widespread release of our Kinks fan film.

Okay, maybe not the most tasteful blog post title, but anybody who knows me knows I have nothing but admiration for the late Mr. Love TKO. I’m sitting here at Sigma Sound Studios, one of his million-selling records hanging on the wall above me, and I’m preparing to take a shower. Why am I showering at Sigma, the site of all that is Philly Soul, from Gamble and Huff to the Jacksons to Hall & Oates to David Bowie’s “Young Americans?” Because I can! No, the Philadelphia Film Festival is holding events at the legendary studio and Tricia, the festival’s guest services queen, was kind enough to pick me up at the train station and respond to my slightly odd request. After last night’s NYC take – three beers, a slice of pepperoni pizza, 3 hours of sleep – I needed a run. And I wasn’t going to show up for the 5 p.m. screening smelling like a three-day old tuna fish sandwich. Hence, the shower. Now I doubt the O’Jays or Patti LaBelle showered in here; the tile job looks fairly recent. But they did record here. And it makes me wonder what Ray and Dave might have created if they had stopped in Philadelphia for a session or two. Could it have worked? Would they have written a song with Luther Vandross? Would we have wanted them to record a song with Luther Vandross? I ran out onto 12st Street, cut left on Vine and found myself at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. I had promised Tricia not to run up the steps next to the Rocky statue and, sure enough, I did exactly that before heading out to a paved path along the Schuylkill River. I passed the water works, the college boat houses, a series or parks and listened to my favorite song of the day, “Harness Your Hopes,” before returning and hopping in the shower. Now it’s off to “Marwencol” and the 5 p.m. screening of “Do It Again.” New York was fantastic and I’ll offer a full report, but for now I’ll provide one nugget I do take pride in. During the screening, I went across the street to get said pepperoni, saw the Yankees were losing and spoke openly and enthusiastically about taking pleasure in that impending loss. And nobody poisoned my food.

So we got a nice, short note in the New York Times letting folks know that, yes, we’re interesting and cheap. The Philadelphia Inquirer calls me a “garrulous madman,” which is flattering considering I spent the night in the house, hanging with an eight-year-old, as her mother attended the Nick Lowe show. In Kansas, they call said daugher “adorable” and the wife, “super-cool.” They like us in Minnesota and on blogcritics, but not in this blog, though the dude has some serious spelling issues to work through and I laughed out loud at his hilarious caption (“Zooey sings while Edgers plays badly”).

What does it mean? I’m not sure, other than that we continue to get attention, sometimes from nagging, sometimes because people stumble upon our film. Rob, el director, hates critics. But I like them. They remind me that people with strong opinions are going to be watching, that it’s important to have a thick skin and that you should never get too high, or too low, from a review. Because as I’ve often said when somebody gets mad about something I’ve written, remember, it’s just a review!

So much for “Duet Again.” No, Ray’s collaborations record will be called “See My Friends” and feature some heavy-duty talent. How good will it be? The Metallica clip on the album website tells me “See My Friends” will certainly be better than those Sinatra “Duets” albums, where Kenny G and Gloria Estefan were recruited to give ‘Ol Blue Eyes a past-his-prime, commercial boost.

I have high expectations for the title track, done with “Spoon,” who I don’t think have a bad song in their catalog. Alex Chilton, as a member of Big Star, did a solid version of “’Til the End of the Day” in the ‘70s. Nice that he and Ray, who must have hung in New Orleans, got to record another before Alex’s untimely death. Nobody could screw up “Better Things,” not even the blustery Boss Springsteen. And Black Francis or Frank Black or Charles Thompson or whatever he’s going by these days has always worn his love of Ray Davies on his sleeve. I’m glad he gets to sing with him.

What worries me on “See My Friends?” Jon Bon Jovi and Richie Sambora. Will they turn “Celluloid Heroes,” handled so deftly by Ray, into cheese? (Remember, these guys brought us “Tommy used to work on the docks.”) I liked the Smashing Pumpkins in 1995. I’m not sure what head pumpkin Billy Corgan does for “All Day and All of the Night/Destroyer.” I don’t know squat about Amy Macdonald (“Dead End Street”) or Mumford & Sons (“Days/This Time Tomorrow”) or Paloma Faith (“Lola),” though I do know Jackson Browne, have never been a huge fan, but will reserve judgment.

Albums like this, of course, make you think of who else you want to hear with our hero. How about Paul Weller, Paul McCartney, Mick Jagger or David Bowie? Aimee Mann, Elvis Costello, Emmylou Harris or Jenny Lewis? Dare I bring up Chrissie Hynde? I also wouldn’t mind an entire new solo album backed by Yo La Tengo. Maybe that’s off point.

Lucinda Williams is a masterful duet singer. I have a hunch “Long Way from Home” will work. It’s a fantastic song choice, though it does make me think of another potential collaborator. What about a duet with a guy named Dave?

We’ve got very little time left and we’re oh-so-close to meeting our goal. So I approach you, the Kinksian public, with a simple offer.

You give, you get.

T-shirts – we’ve got small, medium and a few large left – are available as an award. They are supremely rare and very cool.

Posters are dropping in price as we head to the finish line, either $60 (12 by 18) or full-size for $180.

We’ve also got the Mike Gent record, which you can listen to, in part, below. If you buy the record but don’t want to play it – the 45 is collectible, after all – I’ll zap you the MP3’s so you can load Victoria and Big Sky onto your iTunes.

To those who have given, thank you. It makes a huge difference. To those who can spare $5, $10, $7,849… We appreciate even the smallest donation to our noble quest.

And I promise: No more begging after this!

We’ve only got three days left on our Kickstarter campaign, so I figured I’d make one more pitch. (And there may be another…)

You might think, “Hey Geoff, isn’t the movie done and playing in film festivals. And hasn’t everybody already been generous enough?” And I’d say, “True and true, but that doesn’t mean I’m done.”

Here are two examples: We were so pleased to be invited to show the film at the Reykjavik International Film Festival later in the year. But then, after chatting with one of the staffers there, I learned that we need to send a PAL formatted tape. We only have the NTSC format. That means heading over to National Boston today and paying them to dub a PAL tape. That’s $320. See, money!

(As you probably figured, even when we sell out a 1,000 seat hall, we don’t get paid. The film festival gets the cash, as it should… Those festivals are run on a shoe-string by dedicated people working way too many hours.)

Same goes for our screening in New Orleans in October. We’re thrilled to be showing the film there and wouldn’t consider pulling out. But they want the film transferred as a data file and sent on a hard-drive. Hence, I’ve got to buy another hard-drive.

I know, this couldn’t me a more boring blog entry. Who wants to hear about PAL and NTSC and data files, etc.? I don’t. Which is why you should help me reach my Kickstarter goal. Then I promise… I’ll shut up and talk Kinks!

Yes, I’m out of cash, so travel is going to become harder unless festivals pick up the slack. But no, I’m still eager to make sure our festival run reaches you, the Kinks fan eager to see “Do It Again.”

We’ve applied to festivals in Norway, Italy, Chile, Spain, Canada, Mexico… I could go on. We’ve been accepted into a slew. Sometimes, it’s hard to keep up.

For now, I’ll just tell you about a bunch of screenings. We play the Rhode Island International Film Festival on August 13, Big Bear Lake International (in California) and the Chicago International Movies & Music Festival in September, The Tacoma Film Festival, New Orleans Film Festival, Sound Unseen Minneapolis and the Royal Flush Festival (in New York City) in October and the Northwest Film Forum (in Seattle!) in November.

What else? We’re working on Austin and a bunch of other places and we hope, by the end of the year, we’re able to bring the film to you.

I always bring an extra tape. If you’re a producer, that’s your responsibility. You never know when a tape will fail or be lost or fall into a bowl of steaming Velveeta. Naturally, the first time I forgot to bring a tape was last Thursday for our Los Angeles festival premiere. Guess what? It was also the first time the tape I mailed for the screening couldn’t be found.

That’s right. Around 6:30 p.m. – or an hour and a half before our sold-out screening – I stood with director Allison Anders, who runs the “Don’t Knock the Rock” festival with daughter Tiffany, and Hadrian, the man in charge of the Silent Movie Theatre, wondering how to resolve the fact that we didn’t have a copy of “Do It Again” in the house.

No need to panic. I called my friend Jeremy and editor Brad, who I knew had DVDs at the respective homes. Allison sent her boyfriend Terry (of Gun Club!) back to her place. We retrieved our back-up screeners (which I had also neglected to bring) and readied for our screening.

Funny thing is, Allison and I looked totally calm.

See. Here we are after she handed me $400 to reimburse my plane ticket.

Quick summary: The screening could not have gone more wonderfully.

Now the account. The morning started beautifully with a generous post on the LA Times Pop & Hiss blog.

Later that day, Allison greeted me on the sidewalk with a big hug, which made me not feel at all nervous around a big time director. Kinks tunes were already playing in the theater and DJ Howie Pyro, with his fantastically cheesy orchestrated version of “You Really Got Me,” was setting up. As 8 p.m. neared, a steady stream of my kind of celebrities came to the theater. Wondermints Nick Walusko and Darian Sahanaja, both who also play with Brian Wilson. Dave Jenkins, of the Dave Davies band. Artist Shepard Fairey. Musician/radiohead “Mighty” Manfred Jones. My former Spin editor Tracey Pepper. And Shel Talmy, the super-producer responsible for everything Kinks through “Something Else” and a slew of other (“My Generation” and “Makin’ Time”) revolutionary rock songs.

Then, there was The Marquis, as in Michael Des Barres. At 62, he remains a masterful front man, both sex symbol and ham. This is the dude who led Power Station at Live Aid, played Murdoc in MacGyver and, from what I’ve heard, turned down a chance to replace Freddie Mercury in Queen.

Check him out.

The Marquis knows how to work a crowd. He also knows his rock. When I told the audience that Talmy was sitting in the crowd, Des Barres didn’t miss a beat.

“So did Jimmy Page play on that song?” he hollered into the dark. Talmy replied, “no,” once again dispelling one of rock’s great myths.

All the while, a photographer, who gave off that Kathleen-Quinlan-in-“The Doors” vibe (slightly crazy, slightly sleazy, slightly artistic), was snapping shots. Turns out, she crashed the party and, for some odd reason, grew mucho testy when we refused to dip into our, er, bottomless budget to pay for her shots. (I emailed an offer for a poster and plug for a few photos to post on Facebook and got the following reply: “I have plenty of publicity and my clients are worldwide … I have a family to feed too.”)

Thankfully, Marianne and Todd were there. They brought their cameras.

To start the proceedings, Los Angeles City Councilman Paul Koretz presented a certificate marking the adjournment of the council in honor of Pete Quaife. His office would send it to Pete’s fiancé, Elisabeth, the next day.

“Usually, we do that in honor of great civic activists or famous Los Angeles individuals like UCLA coach John Wooden who just passed away,” he said, explaining why the LA City Council adjourned for the man we knew as “Crutch.” “But I thought because of the huge impact that Peter and the Kinks have made on people all around the world whose lives have been touched like mine has that we really needed to acknowledge him and the Kinks.”

“I don’t think we Kinks fans are necessarily better than other people but I certainly think our music is for sure,” Koretz said.

Next, the film.

I had already decided not to watch. I’ve seen “Do It Again” about 30 times now. Nothing against the movie, but I know what happens. My plan was to hang near the food truck, consume some BBQ and take in the warm, LA night. My plans changed as I watched the first scene.

I realized that this was the perfect audience. They got every joke, even those that we had determined through multiple screenings were too obscure. I mean, they laughed when our two-second freeze on a drunk Paul Weller flashed on the screen, a shot that normally passes too quickly to make much of an impression. I realized that about 73 percent of the room had, like me, e-mailed the pic to friends after the press got hold of the shots of one of Weller’s less impressive nights on the town.

“It’s going over well,” Albert Berger, the producer of, among other films, “Cold Mountain,” “Election” and “Little Miss Sunshine,” assured me when I bumped into him in the back.

The audience seemed happy, cheering after the film ended. I was particularly pleased to get a big hug of congratulations from Marianne Spellman, a writer and Kinks fan who I admire. I also know, from some harsh and honest critiques of previous cuts, that Marianne is not an easy sell. If she didn’t like “Do It Again,” she would have told me.

And the Marquis welcomed me to the front by yelling: “How big is his fucking balls? How big is his balls?”

His first query was also choice. “I just think this is the most extraordinary and confident man who would attempt to put the notorious assassins of rock back together. What were you thinking?”

There were lots of other questions. What did Dave say? Will this ever come out on DVD? What did you learn? Then, we had a quick intermission, and a special show of rare Kinks clips curated by Dr. Charles Beardsley kept the night going.

There was something charming about that part of the night. It felt like being at a sleepover when I was kid, chomping down Pop Rocks and huddling around a TV to watch Friday Night Videos. There were young Ray, Dave, Pete and Mick goofing around as they did the lip synch to “Wonderboy.” As always, I was just sorry the night had to end.