Dave Woodhall watches a new film and an old band with one thing in common.
One thing everyone reading these pages will agree on is that Birmingham has a musical heritage better than any comparable city. Another thing we can agree on is that we don’t shout about that fact loud enough. Since the city was founded we’ve been doing great things quietly, with the result that regardless of the great improvements of recent years, its image has never been worse. Some of this is our own fault, some is outright racism, but in a world where cultural tourism is an ever-more lucrative market, Birmingham loses out to cities with louder voices and flexible boundaries.
So it was with great pleasure and a fair bit of relief that we ventured to the Box bar on Brindleyplace to watch the first public showing of Birmingham: A City Rooted in Talent. Weighing in at around three hours long, this documentary highlights the unique depths and diversity of talent our city has given the world.
Fittingly launched as part of the Birmingham Jazz & Blues Festival, itself one of the biggest and longest-running examples of its type in the world, the production by local filmmakers Contrary Trees begins with the Moody Blues and their seminal Go Now, and works its way through more than half a century of the city’s music, with stop-offs on the way to take in football, comedy, art and many other aspects of Birmingham’s cultural history.
There’s interviews with such luminaries as Bev Bevan, Ruby Turner and Jasper Carrott, who began his own career as part of the fledgling Brummie music scene. As you’d expect, the super-heavyweight quartet of Sabbath, Duran Duran, UB40 and ELO are covered in depth but some of the lesser-known Brummie legends and should have beens are also featured. Fashion, the greatest should have been of the lot, get the credit they deserve and there’s a lengthy feature on Fuzzbox, perhaps because they made some wonderful and innovative videos, which are shown here. Most poignant are interviews with the family of Ranking Roger and also footage of Gary Shaw talking about Villa’s European triumphs.
There’s a hefty chunk of the film given over to other aspects of the city, such as comedy and in particular the tortured genius of Tony Hancock, as well as the city’s football teams and art galleries. The budgetary restrictions of this crowdfunded epic are clear; no jetting around the globe to catch up with Simon Le Bon and Jeff Lynne, and a bit of contemporary live footage might have been interesting. But that understandable glitch apart, this is a film well worth seeing and talking about. The producers intend it to be serialised on the newly-launched Rockefellas TV station. That should just be the start; it deserves a much greater audience.
I have to admit that a previous engagement meant we left with at least an hour to go so that leaves plenty of time for the Nightingales, Steve Gibbons, the Streets, Ocean Colour Scene, the Editors, the entire B:Town phenomenon and a host of others. What a film; what a city.
The reason for reluctantly leaving early was to catch another footnote in Birmingham’s music scene. Henry’s Blueshouse has found its home at Snobs on Broad Street and tonight saw the return of our old favourites the Dirt Road Band.
There were no great surprises in what they did – some Feelgoods, a song about Hendrix entitled Jimmy James, a rockingly good encore of their usual set closer Route 66. Steve Walwyn is still one of the truly great British guitarists, Horace Panter and Ted Duggan fit together like the veterans they are. The venue’s comfortably full, the audience appreciative and another great night is had by everyone. That’s Birmingham – we get on with it.
