Ted Leo and the Pharmacists: Dirty Old Town - Ted Leo/Pharmacists vs. Coney Island
A film by Justin Mitchell
Plexifilm
DVD (2004)
$19.95
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Even when Ted Leo was fronting mod-punk legends Chisel, hardly anybody gave a damn about him. As with many great bands, Chisel's influence and legacy far outweighs their album sales or concert attendance -- and of course, every hipster you meet was, "there the first time they came around". Of course, most of them are lying (they played 100 capacity dumps, by and large) meaning that, from a purely logistical standpoint, they were more likely to be at a Green Day show instead. Only now is Leo being afforded a smidgen of the attention he deserves. Unlike most artists, he is not only aging gracefully, but actually improving with age.
Leo may seem like a strange topic for a documentary, but he's been toting his mod-and-pony show around for over a decade now, and people are finally starting to take notice of his talent and zeal. Dirty Old Town: Ted Leo/Pharmacists vs. Coney Island captures the man and his troops at full power, playing for a massive crowd at the Village Voice's annual Siren Festival. Wisely, filmmaker Justin Mitchell is quick to align Leo's old-school punk aesthetic with the traditions and values that have made Coney Island such an iconic landmark, creating a symbiotic relationship between the singer and this hallowed ground.
Throughout the band's visceral hour-long performance, the smells, sounds and imagery of Coney Island are juxtaposed with scenes of NYC's disaffected, unfettered youth -- the disheveled fabulous versus the utterly arcane. It's slightly alarming when you realize that most of the people in the audience have probably lived in New York for a long time, yet have never been to Coney Island because they perceived it as being uncool -- certainly not a venue to ironic detachment. Leo's view is the complete opposite, as heard in small sound bytes and interview clips through which he expresses his love for the battered theme park, explaining how he sees it as "an escape" from the brutish and brash image that NYC normally projects, particularly as it relates in this post 9/11 environment.
The live footage is crisp and clear, and in an uncharacteristic move for a documentary, chooses to deflect some of the attention to Leo's bandmates. They look like folks plucked from the street, but Leo's Pharmacists are the consummate everyman band. Whether they're firing off old-school scorchers like "Timorous Me" or "Parallel or Together", skanking their way through "Where Have all the Rude Boys Gone?" or turning on the funk jets to give "The Ballad of a Sin Eater" its proper libidinousness, they do what they need to do in order to get the job done. These blue-collar virtuosos are the vehicle for Leo's impassioned songwriting and performance, and though they don't make much money, and probably all hold-down day jobs, they play every night like it's the last of their lives. Here they finally get their due -- the unsung heroes backing a slightly more than unsung hero at an American landmark, for all to see.
The extras here, while not exactly abundant, are almost worth the price of admission. Particularly awesome is the footage of the band playing at the South Street Seaport during the "great blackout of 2003". They were literally the only game in town, and powered by a portable generator borrowed from a Starbucks van, they entertained the masses forced to walk home in the chaos and heat. Their performance of "Stove by a Whale" is simply jaw-dropping -- a sweaty, stammering extended version that, for a few minutes, helps you to believe that music can change the world, even in these utterly fucked-up times. Most of the crowd watching haven't a clue as to who Leo is, but as they rock out and become enveloped in this music, you realize it doesn't matter. Though they probably won't ever see him again, you know it's an experience they'll remember for the rest of their lives.
The bonus footage of Leo solo at NYC club Pianos helps shed some light on his persona. Armed with only a guitar and an amp, he transfixes the crowd with his jovial wit and well-honed chops. After blasting through "Dirty Old Town Pt. 2" and (Hearts of Oak's) "The High Party" (then) new song "The Sword in the Stone" (which now appears on Tell Balgeary, Balgury is Dead) really brings the house down, especially when Leo explains that it's spanking new, never aired in public before. Comedian David Cross is the evening's MC and can't seem to stop gushing about how great he thinks Leo truly is -- a definite stamp of approval.
Dirty Old Town isn't going to make Leo a household name. Hell, it probably isn't even going to impact his record sales. But more important than money or fame, it gives fans a true insight into one of the most gifted songwriters of this generation, as well as a glimpse of one of the country's most enduring living landmarks. Most people never experience Ted Leo live, or a Coney Island dog and a vomit-inducing ride on the Cyclone, but after watching Dirty Old Town you'll feel sorry for those people -- they're really missing out on two of life's genuine pleasure.
-- Jason Jackowiak
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