Mayor of the Sunset Strip

As an Angeleno, I was a long-time listener to KROQ, but gave it up the day grunge came to town. I used to listen to Rodney back when he was on at a decent hour. He was so weird and you always felt like you were terribly cool and on-the-edge for listening to him. It is too bad KROQ abandoned Rodney's kind of music in favor of the crap they play today.

But on to the movie itself. I thought it was excellent in its own right, which had the classic tragedy theme. Looking at it that way, this movie could not have been better.

But from a music standpoint there was something lacking. Rodney is Rodney because of the music, his love of the music, his ear and knack for the music. There was plenty in this movie about the musicians but very little about the music they play. I would have liked a few comments along the lines of, "Oh, the first time I heard the opening riff of such-and-such a song," or "Man, when I saw so-and-so play for the first time at the Whiskey!" There is a curious lack of talk about the actual tunes in this movie. One DOES come away with the feeling that it was just celebrities that Rodney loved and not the art they created...and I know this is not the case.

But back to the "tragedy" that was this movie's real purpose. It was so excruciating to watch some of these scenes. A truly great movie in this respect. The encounters with the family, the dumping of his mom's ashes, the freak-out with Chris Carter, the horrible, horrible side-story of the 50-year-old wannabe rock star. This movie was positively Shakespearean! And knowing what a tragic landscape Los Angeles really is, I loved that this was conveyed so well in this film; the Denny's, the stripmalls, the ugly apartment buildings.

Nothing says more about LA or its much maligned Hit-Driven Radio than Rodney Bingenheimer.

He personally broadcast inspired musical choices on KROQ, his cutting edge decisions to play breakout bands, his warm dedication to Rock N' Roll in the face of fast cash that was always "within his grasp".

I think every young guy of 18-24 wants the "Rodney life". Babes, rock , free music, speedy lifestyle... wow--he had it all !!!

...but it all comes down to the thin brown ashes off the side of a boat in the English Channel. A rare naked moment for Rodney when he's finally "sending off" his Mother. All of a sudden, his edgy life feels empty.

In 1979, when I hit L.A. , Rodney on the ROCKS was the best Saturday night show on radio. What is really great, is that rare magic spikes comes through the classic Rock icon images like the pasty multiple facelifts of a monotone Nancy Sinatra, who can't move her lips.

In the '80's and 90's, his influence on generation(s) of young music fans was unparalleled. Mind you, he has the worst voice ever created for radio. Now, he's faded to a Doctor Demento cult figure that seems more tragic than I would like.

Rodney seems lost and now a little desperate around the edges.... (What does he do besides work 3 hours a week??)

The documentary is brilliant.... How many documentaries have a bad guy that you love to hate--- Kim Fowley-- the Human Canker Sore. (Mr. Fowley claims no drug use but keep inhaling and touching his nose?!? I suspect he might end up on a free guest spot for "Six Feet Under") I'm kinda glad to have NEVER met Kim Fowley in person. Even his video presence is a little freaky.

And... Rodney is never judgmental to anyone... probably a more human flaw when it comes to the Fowleys of this world.

So who is this Rodney Bingenheimer? One can describe him as the "Mayor of the Sunset Strip," but in my opinion, "King of the Groupies" is more accurate. If you live in LA, you may be somewhat familiar with him due to his radio show. If not, you're still going to love this film if you're at all a fan of rock and roll music.

"Mayor of the Sunset Strip" is sort of a cross between "Zelig" and "This Is Spinal Tap," but unlike those pics, this is a not a mockumentary...Rodney Bingenheimer is a real guy. And there isn't a famous rock musician with whom he hasn't hung out, or been photographed. Lest you think this guy is just some kind of a Photoshop genius who never actually met Lennon, Bowie and the rest...well there are plenty of folks out there who will corroborate his life story. And these folks are featured in this documentary...everyone from Deborah Harry to The Doors' Ray Manzarek, plus the most famous groupie of all time, Pamela Des Barres (and I must admit that when I was 15 years old and read "I'm With the Band, I so wanted to be her).

Rodney began his career as a professional hanger-on when he got hired to play Davy Jones' double in "The Monkees"—although aside from the height and hair, he really doesn't resemble Davy Jones at all. However, Rodney was somehow able to turn this 15 minutes of fame into four decades at the top (or outskirts, depending on how you look at it) of LA's social scene. Little 5'3",100 lb, not least-bit handsome Rodney propelled himself into a world where he knew every rock and roller, and they all knew him (I, for one, am convinced this is due to the fact that, next to Rodney, celebrities could feel good about themselves by appearing taller and more attractive). By the time he opened his famous "Rodney Bingenheimer's English Disco" in the early 70s, Rodney was apparently, as we learn in the film, getting more girls than even Robert Plant. And when Michael Des Barres speaks of Rodney's success with women, he declares that the guy had a "posse of p*****." This fact is remembered fondly by the beyond middle-aged Rodney in the film…I found that scene particularly hilarious.

By the time disco music actually became popular in the latter part of the 70s, Rodney wanted to close his "English Disco." He had long since moved on to punk rock, worshipping the likes of the Ramones and the Sex Pistols. In the 80s, Rodney was able to establish himself as a DJ who brought the latest and greatest music to Southern California. Without a good radio voice, Rodney was able to turn his knowledge of the music into a paying job. Fast forward to the 90s, and we see Rodney, looking like a 60-year-old in a Paul Weller wig, still seemingly at the top of the rock and roll ladder, hanging out with the likes of Coldplay and Oasis, the latter he claimed to be playing on the radio when their music was still only available on tape (Well, I personally happen to have seen Oasis play very early on in a small club with only about 100 people in the audience, but I digress…) From the very beginning of the film, we see that life is getting tougher for Rodney. For one thing, it's hard to make a living when you don't have any particular skills, and your claim to fame is that you know (or used to know) a bunch of famous people. That's the tragedy of it.

All in all, it's the little things that make watching this documentary so entertaining...from the conversations in Bing & Zelda Bingenheimer's garishly decorated California home, to the scenes of Rodney driving around LA in his tres uncool automobile. Then there are the scenes of Rodney's friend Isadore Ivy singing his ode to Jennifer Love Hewitt, and his other friend, Kim Fowley(?) discussing the amazing sexual capacity of the male organ. Anyway, you can easily forget, while watching this movie, that Rodney Bingenheimer and the weirdos around him are not fictional characters. And that's what makes it all so chuckle-inducing.

In closing, it's films like "Mayor of the Sunset Strip" that are exactly the reason I enjoy watching documentaries so much.

According to this film, the 'Mayor of the Sunset Strip' is Rodney Bingenheimer. Rodney who? Well, watch this fascinating documentary, directed by George Hickenlopper (HEARTS OF DARKNESS : A FILMMAKER'S APOCALYPSE), and find out! Bingenheimer is seemingly the kind of selfless guy who appears to have initially been a kind of male groupie in the 60s and who subsequently unconditionally promoted U.S. and U.K. rock and pop acts through his L.A. based 'Rodney on the Roq' radio show and is acclaimed in almost reverential tones by those who owe their Stateside break to the airplay which apparently broke them through to the U.S. mainstream. As these artists include the likes of Brian Wilson, The Ramones, The Sex Pistols, Oasis and Coldplay (not sure I can forgive Rodney those last two), and given that the soundtrack includes these bands and many more individuals and groups (e.g. including a certain Mr. Bowie) which would have set virtually any other movie back several million greenbacks had they not offered their tracks for the minimum cost required to sort the legal paperwork, one can see how revered this apparently somewhat impoverished starmaker is (although his collection of pop memorabilia could set him up for several lifetimes should he choose to part with it). A Zelig-like figure whom the film's archival footage (filmed and photographic) shows to have been present at virtually all the epochal rock moments of the last 40 years, as well as one whose life has perhaps not turned out to be as successful as one might expect (the man still appears to dine at Denny's, for crying out loud!) and who seems to have been let down by those who might have reciprocated more kindly for the leg-up he appears to have given them, is well-served by this compassionate, occasionally hilarious (the Cherie Currie story about sinister svengali producer/performer Kim Fowley and his punchy riposte is a hoot) and ultimately rather sad and cautionary tale of the darker side of the American Dream. A man who, as my friend pointed out afterwards, appears to have inspired The Ramones' choice of tonsorial grooming and who still appears to be occasionally mistaken for The Monkees' Davy Jones (he originally auditioned for Jones' role and was sometimes deployed as his double which, if nothing else, seems to have added a few notches to his bedpost) and whose sad-faced countenance speaks more vividly of a lifetime of let-downs than any rancid verbal outpourings (he actually seems too polite to engage in on-screen badmouthing of even those who might deserve a well-aimed verbal broadside), this features an engaging mixture of talking head and rare archival footage and entertains as it delivers an impressionistic vulture's eye view of the West Coast zeitgeist, leaving one in no doubt that the film's title appropriately rests on this unlikely, slightly-built and spindly-legged character. An enlightening documentary, and highly recommended fare with no 'dead air'.

THE MAYOR OF SUNSET STREET (dir.George Hickenlooper) provides a provocative and in depth analysis of Rodney Bingenheimer, one of the most influential pop-music media figures of the last 40 years, yet for all of his power and influence, the man seems lonely, adrift, and somewhat shattered. Hickenlooper overwhelmingly makes the case that Rodney was at the very epicenter of what was 'hip' for many decades. However, by the end of the film, one wonders how such close access to wealth, celebrity, and mass adulation would gain Rodney so very little. It is both sad and ironic that a man who's impeccable taste brought joy to millions of music fans would end up in such a melancholy situation. THE MAYOR OF SUNSET STREET is a strikingly original portrait of a rather doleful individual.