NOW THAT OUR LIVING ROOMS have DVD, surround-sound and TV screens the size of department store windows, the concert film is becoming an ever more appealing proposition. For a totally realistic experience, all you need is a sweaty seven-foot man standing three inches from your face holding a mobile phone aloft.
Notable new releases include Foo Fighters – Live at Wembley Stadium (Sony BMG), preserving for posterity the moment in June this year when Dave Grohl was joined on stage by half of Led Zeppelin.
The Clash Live: Revolution Rock (Sony BMG) is a new
Don Letts documentary that centres on a 1982 concert supporting The Who at Shea Stadium. Arctic Monkeys at the Apollo (Warp Films, out 3 November) captures a Manchester show on the band's 2007 tour. This coming Tuesday it will also be shown on big screens across Europe.
At the same time, the music film is getting weirder. The outsiders are joining the superstars on screen. Heavy Load, in arthouse cinemas now, tells the story of a Sussex group making claims to be "the only disabled punk band in the UK". The quintet, three of whom have learning disabilities, were followed for two years as they attempted to record their debut album and perform in mainstream venues rather than disability clubs.
Strangest of all is the long-awaited full-length movie from Oklahoma's professional oddballs, The Flaming Lips. Christmas on Mars (Warner Bros DVD, out 10 November) has had an epic gestation period. The Lips' frontman Wayne Coyne has been talking about it since 2001, and now the world can see his "fantastical film freakout".
It's every bit as bizarre as you would expect from a band whose stage shows feature dancing Father Christmases and aliens, and whose songs include Oh My Pregnant Head (Labia in the Sunlight) and Psychiatric Explorations of the Fetus with Needles. Set in a Mars colony about to witness the birth of its first baby, it depicts a group of increasingly paranoid astronauts helped towards something like contentment by Coyne's character, a mute, horned Martian with green face, blue beard, pointy ears and a Santa suit.
However, it's also far from the joyful Technicolor nonsense of their fun-filled gigs. Filmed almost entirely in black and white on homemade sets and starring the band and their friends, none of whom will be winning any acting awards, it's slow and frequently boring.
Coyne has described it as a cross between 2001: A Space Odyssey and Eraserhead, which is accurate, but it's not half as memorable as either. For every scene featuring a baby being cut in half, bleeding eyes and a marching band with vaginas for heads, there are ten with astronauts talking cod-philosophical gibberish while they fiddle with wires.
Most surprising of all, there's almost no music in it. It's a diversion that will fascinate the stoned, but this is one case where you're still better off going to the gig rather than watching the movie.
