Monterey Pop / Jimi Plays Monterey & Shake! Otis at Monterey June 20, 2006Blu-ray/DVD ReviewsBrent Facebook Twitter LinkedIn
, Ravi Shankar, the Mamas and Papas, Hugh<br />
Masekela and, of course, Hendrix and Redding (more on them below). <b>The<br />
action is captured by Pennebaker in his trademark unpretentious, vérité<br />
style</b>, and though shot in 16mm and not always informed by the same<br />
angles and close-ups that are a staple of today’s filmed rock shows,<br />
the footage remain as riveting as ever, as much for its mash-up of mood<br />
as anything else. <b>Though it often reflects the zeitgeist in a<br />
particularly of-the-moment fashion, great music also taps into<br />
universal feeling and the deeper human desire for expression</b>, and <i>Monterey Pop</i> wonderfully shows off plenty of this. </p>
<p>An audio commentary track on the disc by Pennebaker and festival<br />
co-producer Lou Adler yields some interesting trivia (<b>Shankar was the<br />
only artist paid for performing</b>, since he was booked before the<br />
decision to make the festival a free benefit), and the above pair also<br />
sit for interviews of reminiscence. Other interviews include festival<br />
organizer John Phillips, performers Cass Elliot and David Crosby, and<br />
festival publicist Derek Taylor, who affords us a unique perspective<br />
not often given such behind-the-scenes chats. <b>Further extras include a<br />
pictorial essay by photographer Elaine Mayes</b>, the feature’s original<br />
theatrical trailer and radio spots, and a scrapbook. </p>
<p>Jimi Hendrix and Otis Redding would both achieve dizzying heights in<br />
the 1960s, pulling music in interesting new directions before being<br />
taken too soon, and <i>Jimi Plays Monterey & Shake! Otis at Monterey</i><br />
can’t help but remind us of this loss. Each arrived at the Monterey Pop<br />
Festival virtually unknown. Returning stateside from London, where he<br />
had moved to launch his career, <b>Hendrix exploded onstage, flooring an<br />
unsuspecting audience with his hand-grenade riffs and maniacal<br />
six-string pyrotechnics</b>. (Despite the prevalent image of the time being<br />
an orgiastic, drug-fed love-in, the audience here frequently sits<br />
passively and politely, an amusing counterpoint to some of the<br />
boisterous music.) Hendrix’s set includes “Can You See Me?,” “Purple<br />
Haze,” a cover version of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” (said<br />
to be Paul McCartney’s favorite ever cover of a Beatles tune), “Foxy<br />
Lady,” “Hey Joe” and a funky pass at Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling<br />
Stone,” but it would be <b>show-closer “Wild Thing,” in which he<br />
infamously set his guitar ablaze and dry-humped a nearby speaker</b>, that<br />
would lift him to superstardom and become the iconic image of him. </p>
<p>Redding, an up-and-coming star of Memphis’ Stax label, seduced the<br />
“love crowd” in one of his best shows, and unfortunately one of his<br />
last. Six months later, <b>before his Monterey-inspired “(Sittin’ on the)<br />
Dock of the Bay” topped the charts, he would die in a plane crash</b> along<br />
with four members of his regular touring band, the Bar-Kays. (Hendrix<br />
would pass three years later in London, of a drug overdose.) At<br />
Monterey, Redding laid down a six-song sprint, comprised of “Shake,”<br />
“Respect,” “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long,” “(I Can’t Get No)<br />
Satisfaction” and “Try a Little Tenderness,” which, with all due<br />
respect to Taylor Hicks’ “Soul Patrol,” is still far and away the<br />
definitive version of the tune. </p>
<p>This bifurcated disc, presented in a regular Amray snap-case, includes an audio commentary track on the <i>Jimi Plays Monterey</i><br />
portion with music historian Charles Shaar Murray that is perfectly<br />
balanced between the effusive and intrusive. <b>It sheds great light on<br />
painter Denny Dent’s magnificent spray-paint evocation of Hendrix under<br />
the roiling opening credits crawl of “Can You See Me?”</b> (of which<br />
Pennebaker lost visual footage), but can distract you during other<br />
parts of the set itself. Also included is an excerpt from interview<br />
with Pete Townshend. The Redding portion of the disc, meanwhile,<br />
features a new essay by David Fricke, trailers for each segment and <b><i>two</i><br />
audio commentaries with music critic and historian Peter Guralnick —<br />
one a song-by-song analysis and one reflecting more on Redding in<br />
general</b>. There’s also a great 18-minute interview with Phil Walden,<br />
Redding’s manager for eight years, in which he talks about his own<br />
interest in soul and blues music and describes the “blind faith” he and<br />
Redding had in one another. It’s double-barreled music history, both of<br />
these Monterey Pop discs, and it’s utterly fascinating. <b>B+ (Movies) A- (Discs)</b></p>
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