Over the last ten years, with the music industry scrambling to deal with the seismic shift in the way listeners consume music, it has been interesting to note that live concerts have not only remained steady, but thrived. Each year, fans have an incredible crop of behemoth music festivals to choose from ranging from legendary affairs like Glastonbury or Lollapalooza, new kids on the block like the Pitchfork Music Festival or standard setters like Coachella. Each of these festivals draw huge crowds, big names and of course, corporate sponsorship. However, through all of this, a small group of music enthusiasts in the U.K. have, year-after-year curated their own music festival, that, while not boasting headlining acts like Radiohead or Coldplay, has a dedicated fanbase who fly from all over the world just to attend.
All Tomorrow’s Parties was founded in 1999 by Barry Hogan, offering a distinct alternative to the big-stage-in-a-field setup that makes up most festivals. Taking in holiday camps in scenic England, and featuring a lineup curated by musicians, artists or fans, All Tomorrow’s Parties — or ATP as it has come to be known — is a sponsor-free, music-first event celebrating all things noise, punk, avant and awesome in the underground music scene. Now, to coincide with their tenth anniversary, a titular documentary has been released to try and capture some of what makes ATP such a unique event.
Using reams of footage shot by a variety of attendees, from fans to musicians, the producers wisely chose Jonathan Caouette to make some sense of what they had. The director made his name with his astonishing autobiographical debut with “Tarnation,” in which he culled still photos, super-8 and home video in a sharply edited full length film (and if you haven’t seen it, please move it to the top your Netflix queue right now). He applies those same skills here, weaving vintage videos of the holiday camps with current videos of band performances, fans and shots of the grounds as they are today. It offers a striking contrast, seeing the bucolic grounds used by everyday English citizens being used a stomping ground for some of the most out-there contemporary music.
Unfortunately, despite Caouette’s virtuosic editing skills, “All Tommorow’s Parties” is disappointingly unengaging. While the first third of this already too short film (it runs a mere 82 minutes) is energized by the mix of footage, the frequent cuts to vintage newsreels or holiday footage becomes a tired crutch as the film goes on, and one begins to wish that Caouette had excised some of the repetitive juxtaposition to give more screen time to bands like Shellac or Boredoms who are afforded far too little screen time. In fact, it’s a little puzzling which bands are given extended screentime — notably Grinderman (who deliver a pretty killer version of “No Pussy Blues”) and Portishead — and compared to others who we are given just brief glimpses (pretty much everyone else). There really seems to be no rhyme or reason to the process. Another nagging issue throughout the film is that none of the onscreen commenters are identified. So you have guys like David Pajo (Slint, Papa M) or Daniel Johnston talking about the festival, but unless you know who they are, you’re pretty much left in the dark. In fact, only the live performances get a small block of text to tell us who they are, and even then, there are some omissions from time to time.
However, the biggest failing of the film is that is offers absolutely no perspective on the festival from any angle. There are no interviews with music critics with their opinions on how ATP differs from the glut of festivals out there. There no substantive interviews with the founders, curators or musicians on their experiences or with the legion of fans, many of whom make pilgrimages just to attend about what the event means to them. When we see footage of artists who are outside the distinctly indie focus of the festival – GZA, Saul Williams, Seasick Steve for example – it’s almost absurd that we get no interviews with them about their feelings about ATP. Or when we have veterans like Nick Cave, Iggy Pop and Patti Smith tearing it up on stage it would be nice to get their candid thoughts on something as special as ATP emerging in this musical climate. When we see footage of Lightning Bolt absolutely slaying (this is indeed one of the film’s best live moments) just outside the chalets or Grizzly Bear performing on the beach to a small crowd, the film aches for someone, anyone to comment on what this means to them personally or professionally. The film takes the event’s uniqueness for granted, and in doing so, shortchanges any opportunities to really articulate the ongoing appeal of this repeatedly sold out, annual, event.
Even though we’re exactly the target audience for this film, “All Tomorrow’s Parties” was a distinct letdown. Even with its brief running time, the film’s format becomes a slog after an hour as the format of vintage clips/fan footage/live performance, even with Caouette’s superb editing, loses its impact with each minute. “All Tomorrow’s Parties” enters from a singular angle of being a fly-on-the-wall documentary and never deviates. The film’s scope is ridiculously limited, focusing exclusively on the event in Minehead, and never even acknowledging that the festival has since launched U.S. and Australian versions on an annual basis, or has added special series’ like “The Nightmare Before Christmas” or “Don’t Look Back” concerts. “All Tomorrow’s Parties” is a fan-only, missed opportunity that will frankly be of interest only to those who have attended the festival and are looking for a belated souvenir. [C]
The film is currently embarking on a series of one-off screenings and festival appearances before hitting DVD on November 2nd. You can find screening times and pre-order info at the film’s website.
We would also be remiss in not mentioning that Pavement have been confirmed as both the curators and headliners for next year’s festival, adding one more bit of news to the most overhyped reunion in recent years. We’re frankly tired of hearing about it already and they haven’t even played a show yet. Doesn’t anybody remember their buds coming back from one of Pavement’s shows back in the day completely underwhelmed? That said, there is a perverse irony in the anticipation we’re feeling for a bunch of subtly pot-bellied, mid-thirties hipsters singing along to “Cut Your Hair.”
Here’s the trailer (which actually is pretty representative of how the film is cut):
