The 10 Greatest “Performance Oriented” Rock Documentaries of All Time

A couple of weeks back, we acknowledged the wealth of rock documentaries out in the cinematic marketplace, even claiming that at least ten (and there will be more in the near future) warrant consideration as some of the artform’s best. We felt confident we’d made some wise choices, set up the parameters to excuse the lack of performance-oriented efforts, and expressed our desire to match director’s intent with final product. And what did we get for our attempt? What happened when we unleashed our chosen few onto the Messageboard masses? Well, let’s just say that there was an equal balance between favorable responses and those who saw fit to point out our personal (and professional) flaws, selection wise. In essence, we were idiots.

So this time, we will work to appease by focusing on the more “concert” oriented films that could have made our list. We make the distinction by again arguing something called “director’s intent.” In a film like Westway to the World, it is clear that friend and filmmaker Don Letts wanted to focus on The Clash’s entire career. The Blank Generation, on the other hand, is nothing more than a weird amalgamation of black and white home movie footage poorly matched to live recordings of early punk acts. Both are brilliant, but it wholly different ways. Therefore, as a companion piece to our first list (and a precursor to another overview arriving in a couple of weeks), we offer those titles where playing is just as important as the personalities on display. Again, we have more than likely left out one (or all) of your favorites. Again, we will try to do better next time.

Let’s begin with one of the most heartbreaking looks at one of the most unfairly marginalized bands ever…

 
#10 — Ramones: Raw

On our first list, we mentioned how insightful the actual career spanning documentary about the quintessential punk band — End of the Century — truly was. Then we were reminded of this behind the scenes look at the brudda’s late career touring slog, and we stand completely and utterly corrected. Like The Beatles’ Let It Be, Raw shows a seminal band in freefall, a group that can’t seem to get along except for the few minutes a day they are forced to play for their fans. Angry, bitter, disinterested and spiteful, we get none of the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle. Instead, it’s just silence and sullen glances all around.

 
#9 — X: The Unheard Music

Hailed as the saving grace of West Coast punk (so, what about Fear?) this amazing four piece blasted onto the scene with the endorsement (and production cred) of former Doors demi-god Ray Manzarek. From there, they took their rockabilly meets rebellion cause to local stages before finally hitting it semi-big. Seeing the group in these early settings, Billy Zoom’s retro riffing on amphetamines meshed with Exene Cervenka and John Doe’s dissonant Jefferson Airplane harmonies would turn anyone into a fan. It’s the offstage material, filled with doubt and poetic preaching, that makes us long for those now lost days.

 
#8 — loudQUIETloud: A Film About the Pixies

After the incredibly acrimonious break-up, few thought the preeminent ’90s indie combo would ever reunite, let alone play together live for any significant stretch of time. So when a tour was announced, it was viewed as a last chance golden opportunity to see an influential and important act leaving its lasting mark. Instead, the concerts became a kind of primal scream therapy, guiding lights Kim Deal and Black Francis fighting through their own solo issues (and sobriety) while the rest of the band interjected their own struggles. Before long, the tensions that tore them apart threaten. Their response argues for their continuing legacy as one of rock’s most complicated collectives.

 
#7 — The Kids Are Alright

The Who will always represent the perfect rock god combination — man-crush lead singer, deep and difficult guitarist/songwriter, dark and brooding bassist, and a manic jester of a chap behind the drum kit. Put them together and you have instant arena myth. But there was much more the band than the standard sex, drugs, and… well, you know the rest. Using archival clips from TV appearances and other concert outings, we get the distinct impression of a group at the top of their game. Sadly, by the time this overview appeared, Keith Moon had OD’d and Pete Townshend had fallen in love with the London punk scene. As a result, this is the Who as they were, and never would be again.

 
#6 — Don’t Look Back

Bob Dylan was a dynamic personality in the early ’60s. Before the Beatles came along and stole his ‘voice of a generation’ thunder, he maintained a strict folk ethos that eventually came to consumer him. This amazing documentary by D.A. Pennebaker, centering on the singer/songwriter’s notorious tour of the UK in 1965, argues for his place as the philosophical soul of the ’60s. From confronting journalists to collaborator with former gal pal Joan Baez, this is the man between phases, his desire to “go electric” eating away at his talented troubadour mantle. Seeing him in this setting, you can tell he was ready for a change.

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#5 — The Last Waltz

The Band, former back-up musicians for an electrified Dylan and well-known artists in their own right, were about to give their final performance as a group. Tour manager and friend of Martin Scorsese, Jonathan Taplin, suggested the director capture the moment for posterity, and thus one of the greatest rock concert/documentary films ever was born. Aside from the expert musicianship — and there is plenty of it on display here — and the numerous special guests (including a last minute ‘reunion’ with their former frontman) this represents the end of a specific era. As Robbie Robertson argues, after 16 years on the road, it was time for a change. Luckily, someone was around to capture said shift.

 
#4 — Woodstock

Hippies! Nudity! Brown Acid! For many, the bands were the least interesting element of this filmed document of the infamous three day peace festival. Yet when watching the movie, from the moment Richie Havens takes the stage and mesmerizes the tired and dirty crowd, it’s easy to see the music’s meaning. This was a celebration of a time, a piece of a particular generation that has never been recaptured. Unlike other shows, like Monterey Pop or the annual showcases in Newport, this was statement, a ‘can do’ delivery that never stopped shifting and evolving. By the time Jimi Hendrix saluted the soured nation with a feedback rich anthem, the ’60s were officially over… for everyone.

 
#3 — Gimme Shelter

Seen as antithetical to the “peace, love, and understanding” vibe of concert, the Rolling Stones were not invited to play Woodstock. In response, they decided to hold their own “free show” at the Altamonte Speedway in California. The rest, as they say, is caught on film history. Indeed, a young fan died at the hand of an inebriated motorcycle gang member, and brothers Albert and David Maysles had the celluloid evidence to prove it. Most of the film is the Stones doing their best debauched rock star act (with superfluous Melvin Belli thrown in for good measure). Once we get to Altamonte (and the replay of the footage afterward), it all turns horrific.

 
#2 — Wattstax

In 1972, famed producer and record executive Albert Bell decided that the African American community needed their own musical celebration ala Woodstock. So he targeted the violence ravaged neighborhood of Watts in Los Angeles, California and brought together many of the leading soul and R&B artists of the day. The result was and is a revelation, a concert which cemented the status of black artists as major contributors to the culture and shift in the sound of the ’70s. From the Staple Singers and Rufus Thomas to the majestic Isaac Hayes, this incredible live experience should be on equal footing with its far more famous cousin. In some ways, it’s a much more important film.

 
#1 — Stop Making Sense

For many, this is the greatest concert documentary of all time, and we have to agree. From the moment frontman David Byrne walks onto the empty stage, an acoustic guitar and boombox in hand to sing a searing version of “Psycho Killer”, we know we’re in for something special. Then director Jonathan Demme lets the proto-performance art show unfold methodically, band members and instruments adding layer upon layer until the group grows to full funked up greatness. Then Byrne brings out the “big suit”. While the message might be incomprehensible, the music is masterful. It’s proof that, before their untimely split a few years later, Talking Heads were one of the greatest live acts ever!