That was an odd but interesting day, which began with assembling a second Kier-La Janisse interview as a companion to the VIFF piece in the Straight (see previous post), to seeing her in person at the VIFF Centre. She had found a book I was looking for -- Yuletide Terror, which I'd hoped to buy a copy of for my Christmas-centric friend David M.; I got one for myself as well, though I am by no means as versed in Christmas horror cinema as he is (I also snagged a Truth & Soul and a Cockfight book; actually, I got two of the latter, one for Bob.
The studio theatre has improved since last I was there. The seats are still connected to each other in a kind of bleacher-like setup, but they are more comfortable to sit in, and the crowd was decent. It would have been fun to do a show-of-hands ("How many of you people are here because of the article in the Georgia Straight?") but I did not presume to make my voice heard on this matter. I hope a few people came because of my article.
In the lobby, at the table Kier-La had set up, I chatted briefly with someone who wished to remain anonymous (or at least unphotographed), who said her brother Steve had been the head grip on the shoot for the film; she was buying a copy of Truth & Soul for him, and got Kier-La to inscribe it "to Steve". He's probably findable in the nearly-unreadable fonts on the blu-ray, but he is not mentioned on the IMDB or elsewhere. Also, I seem to have accidentally deleted the photo I took of a production still she held up, wherein both Steve and Robert Downey appeared. Kier-La said, "There you go, Allan, you have someone you can ask about what drugs were used on the set" (one of the questions I'd put to her that she couldn't answer), but I don't actually care about this, personally -- I was just trying to come up with entertaining interview answers. I was happy Steve was getting a book.
Anyhow, nice lady, if you are reading this, I am sorry I lost the photo of the still I took. Feel free to reach out to me on Facebook. There's a local oddball who has wrecked it for everybody on this blog by stubbornly leaving unwanted comments on this site, tediously mostly about how I should be on Ozempic, who I have no capacity to block, here, but I *can* block him from Facebook, so find me there if you so choose... It shouldn't be too hard! I would add a scan of that photo if you sent it to me. Hell, I'd even ask Steve some questions for posterity, here, if you put us in touch.
I did ask Kier-La some questions about her name, because David M. had expressed curiosity if she named herself after Udo Kier ("That's what he thought, too!" she said -- she had Udo has a guest at a Cinemuerte many years ago). But it was her parents who named her thus; it's not a self-appellation. We didn't get to talk much, though, since she had to present on the film.
Kier-La was great -- one of those spontaneous presentations of information that can only be done by someone who truly knows their stuff; nothing memorized, nothing rehearsed, and the only thing written was a section from the book Truth & Soul about a turd of God, which had some connection to a dream Carl Jung had, or something like that? I didn't take notes, and my wife is sleeping in the bedroom, so you'll just have to go buy the book to get the inside details, though I do not recall Kier-La mentioning if perhaps Downey KNEW of this dream of Jung's before coming up with the motif of Greaser's constipation.
I also wondered if the explosion of Greaser's Palace was a nod to Zabriskie Point, of two years' previous. I'm pretty sure it must have been (though there are no slow motion clips of exploded detritus floating around afterwards).
I did not stay for the screening, but raced off down the street to catch Isobel Campbell. Stephen McBean did an opening set, doing a solo version of Pink Mountaintops, briefly bringing Campbell out to do (I guess) an Amber Webber part. I have lost some interest in Black Mountain, having stopped really connecting with their recorded output from roughly their third album on, but I enjoyed McBean's set a lot, even danced around a bit.
Then Isobel Campbell came out, with a small band, and did one of the quietest sets of live music I have seen. Not in terms of volume, but in terms of the minimalism of her presentation. Many songs, she stood pretty still, one hand jammed deep in the pocket of her jeans, eyes closed as she sang. Her voice was transfixing, of course, and the songs drew heavily on her collaborations with the late Mark Lanegan, with various of her band members taking up Lanegan's parts. There was very little stage patter, though often it was delivered with a personable smile and a chuckle, as when two of her band sat on the floor (for "The National Bird of India") and she joked about how tall she felt now.
The audience was small; I recognized only local concert fixtures Brian and Douglas in the sparse crowd. I appreciated how attentive they were, however; there was very little of that ubiquitous Vancouver chatter that can sometimes ruin a quiet set (as with Robyn Hitchcock when he opened for the Psychedelic Furs, or Carla Bozulich when she opened for Thee Silver Mt. Zion, or Wreckless Eric, when he last headlined here, at a gig at the Astoria so disrespectful of his performance that he hasn't come back since). I was struck by the wish for the ability to travel to an alternate dimension, where I'd given advance press to the show, and got to see a) what the audience would have been like then and b) if they would have been louder and less respectful?
I think the people who came last night knew what kind of music Isobel Campbell made, and comported themselves appropriately.
Less minimal in her presentation, Evie Sands took the stage to support Campbell somewhere around the mid-point of her set, singing lead on a few of the Lanegan songs, like "Come Undone." Sands has a fascinating career, which I knew nothing of before last night, having come close to mainstream megastardom at a few points, but having it taken from her by unfortunate circumstance. She was the first person to record a couple of songs that became big hits (including one we all know, "Angel of the Morning"), but for one reason or another, it was later covers of those songs that drew the fame and wealth (see her Wiki, or go here). She's 79 now, and still a solid, engaging performer, but at one point, was greeted by a female voice calling out from the audience, "Who are you, honey?" And she took a minute to answer. Maybe there was a thought there, too, in her mind, of an alternate universe in which people knew her name, recognized her face. Someone there last night surely did, but it wasn't me. I texted David M. (who had gotten all excited when James Mastro was supporting Alejandro Escovedo; he knew who Mastro was, more than Escovedo!). But he didn't know who Evie Sands was, either.
So that was interesting -- a story I did not know, some of which I read on my phone while the band was performing (!). Sands brought a bit of liveliness to the night -- she's more of a "performer" than Campbell, though her voice is less gorgeous. We were lucky to have seen her. But I did not buy the album of hers on the merch table, nor did I stick around to get things signed (I did bring records, including The Boy With the Arab Strap and two later Campbell albums). But both my wife and I have been tired this week, and I elected to just come home without even trying to get stuff signed.
If I had her albums with Mark Lanegan on vinyl -- if they had been issued thus, or on the merch table -- I would have probably stuck around; they're my favourite items in her discography (I have three of them, but only on CD, and I seldom bother asking for people to sign CDs). The setlist I believe was the same as this one, but many of these are off those albums, without it being noted, including a cover of Townes van Zandt's "The Snake Song" and "You Won't Let Me Down Again", both evening high points.
Maybe the slightly sad quality to Campbell's stage presence owes to missing Mark?
But I don't have much else to say. Campbell did only one Belle and Sebastian song that I recognized, "Is It Wicked Not to Care". She did one song written by Jeffrey Lee Pierce, "Free to Walk", because he and Lanegan were "best buddies," I think was the phrase she used. Interestingly, there is a duet between Nick Cave and Debbie Harry doing that song, which in my mind connects with the only time I saw Mark Lanegan perform, opening for Nick Cave.
It was a very low-bullshit night, where if you came to the Pearl to bask in the aura of celebrity or see a dynamic performance or such, you probably left disappointed, but if you came to listen to music being performed, you were probably intensely satisfied. I would place myself somewhere in the middle; I probably would have enjoyed the night more if there had been seats. I wonder how many people were in the house -- maybe 100, tops? Maybe not even that. I think I actually did reach out to offer press support, but no one got back to me.
Someone should really reissue those Campbell-Lanegan albums on vinyl.
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