Thursday 21 November 2013

REVIEW - MUSCLE SHOALS


All a good music documentary needs is some good music, and it has half the battle already won. This is the kind of music that cuts through genre and taste, and that every time you hear it you wonder why anyone would ever want to listen to anything else. Such is the respect for the music created over the years in Muscle Shoals, Alabama, that no matter how big the bust-ups, there's not a living soul connected to it who won't speak enthusiastically of it. The list of famous and distinguished names who contribute to this documentary is almost as long as the list of those who contributed to the music in the first place. Maybe this is why Greg Camalier never quite digs as deep as he could - not into the dramatics, of which there were plenty, but into the music. That 'Muscle Shoals sound' is certainly one any casual listener can distinguish, so maybe there was no need to pursue that line, but had Camalier lingered longer on these details, and devoted (yet) more time to the songs recorded, his portrait might have been a little less formulaic, and a little more informative, in a useful way. That's the context for all this history. To be fair, though, he's hardly stingy with what he provides. A professional production from top to bottom, its glistening cinematography over the Alabama countryside is a lovely visual compliment to the also lovely soundtrack - did I mention how good the music is? Musicians of all manner chip in at times, from Etta James to Wilson Pickett, Gregg Allman to Alicia Keys... and Bono. My natural response to all things Bono-related is to sink my head deep into my hands and pray to a nonexistent deity that I might be spared any more of this torture. Bad call, Mr. Camalier.

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