Storefront Hitchcock

When Jonathan Demme made the Talking Heads concert movie Stop Making Sense in 1984 he set a standard that no director since has been able to match. The stark visuals and unique music of the band along with an amazing performance by main man David Byrne created an experience that many consider to be the last word in "rockumentary" film making. Fourteen years on Demme returned to the genre with StoreFront Hitchcock, a concert movie of arguably one of Englands finest, certainly one of it's most idiosyncratic, singer/songwriters Robyn Hitchcock. Filmed over two days StoreFront has Hitchcock performing his music in a NYC shop window, a bizzare concept but totally in touch with the singers famously "unusual" sensibilities. Demme films Hitchcock, along with Violinist Deni Bonnet and Bass player Tim Keegan, with their backs to the window as bemused passers by stare in (look out for producer and regular Demme cameo player Kenneth Utt!) As in Stop Making Sense we can hear the audience but not see them, instead sharing their Point of view to give us the feeling of being part of the live experience. Hitckcock himself is far less a visual performer than David Byrne which may be part of the reason Demme gives him an ever changing New York street as a backdrop. Instead of big suits and stage acrobatics, inbetween songs, Hitchcock includes some of his bizzare monologues and surreal observations. These tend to grate after a while although some are quite amusing. And there's always the knowledge that they're probably going to be followed by a fabulous, if completely unconnected, song. Many of these are taken from Hitchcocks then current Moss Elixer album with a few oldies and some of his work with The Egyptians thrown in. For those of us who feel that Hitchcocks music always sounded at it's best in it's most pared down, stark incarnations this is a joy. The fact that this is in essence an "unplugged" session brings his voice to the fore and it's rarely sounded better. A good example is the version of "The Yip Song" - that insanely manic number with it's "Vera Lynn" chorus appears here as a far more melancholic piece, aided by an on-screen dedication to Hitchcocks father Raymond. Maybe comparing this film to the Talking Heads movie is a little unfair. Demme may have used a similar technique but it does have it's own distinct flavour, perhaps unsuprising considering it has such a colourful artist as its subject. It never reaches the exhilarating levels of seeing Stop Making Sense in a movie theatre but Demme should be congratulated for having the smarts, ability and just plain good taste to bring such a unique talent to the big screen. Miles Pieri

English singer songwriter Robyn Hitchcock (no relation to Sir Alfred) became a cult performer in the 1980s through the American college radio circuit. He made during that time some good, though perhaps overrated, records. Their lyrics were odd and eccentric, the music somewhat reminiscent of the rock of the late 60s (Pink Floyd legendary founder Syd Barrett is a name that came up in many profiles about him). In 1998, he decided to make a concert film, directed by none other than Jonathan Demme, who has directed the Talking Heads' widely acclaimed Stop Making Sense. Unfortunately, this movie is really disappointing, a concert film as dull as it can possibly be. We have a single camera fixing at Robyn blurting out his songs with an acoustic guitar and without much interest in a stage set in a deserted shop (thus the title, I guess). There is no audience inside, but wee see the people on the street outside passing by, occasionally stopping and looking what is going on inside. The songs are punctuated by some unfunny and rambling comments by Robyn. Unless you are a committed Robyn fan, you can safely skip this.

Robyn Hitchcock is an eccentric, literate, musical survivor. His elliptical lyrics shrink his potential audience, and his success as a musician requires an effective connection between performer and audience. This film steps in to enhance that connection, boosting the effectiveness of Hitchcock's music in exactly the right way.

This is an intimate performance that requires concentrated attention. Where Talking Heads stimulate your brain while activating your dancing shoes, Hitchcock teases, confounds, and animates your brain while stealing your heart. He's also an entertaining acoustic and electric guitarist.

Mr. Demme, may I humbly suggest a Jazz Butcher film next?

Jonathan Demme films a pretty small and intimate concert by Robyn Hitchcock in an abandoned storefront in NYC. The concert starts with the window behind Hitchcock and people passing and stopping to look (I'd love to know if they could hear him), but this gimmick kind of fades out as the show goes on. That's kind of welcome since it was not a terribly successful gimmick.

What is successful is capturing Hitchcock at his best in an intimate setting. He's joined occasionally by other musicians, and some props come on and off the stage, but it's really just Hitchcock singing songs and giving absurd between song banter. It's beautifully shot with elegant simplicity and highlights the man and his songs.

"Stop Making Sense" is the Demme concert film everyone knows and with good reason. That's a film that can be easily enjoyed by people who are largely indifferent to Talking Heads. This isn't really like that. Certainly people disposed to like amusing, quirky indie pop would enjoy this, but this film is more for folks who already like Hitchcock. It's an interesting showcase because it's not his Soft Boys/Egyptians Syd Barrett-inspired rock on display, but his 90's softer acoustic material that leans more heavily into a Roy Harper/Incredible String Band vibe.

A beautiful film starring one of modern music's most endearing (and brilliant) cult artists. It's interesting to compare "Storefront Hitchcock", recorded late 1996, with his 1985 concert with backing band The Egyptians, captured on the video "Gotta Let This Hen Out!" - great, if weird rock, the subjects may be mordid, but the tone is optimistic. Zoom to 1996 and the boyish cult star has become a greyhaired, matured solo-artist, offering introspective, haunting tales of death and despair. There's an almost majestic sadness to songs like "Glass Hotel", "You and Oblivion". Highly recommended.