THE BACK LINE GETS OUT FRONT
In a smoky cutting-room on Sunset Boulevard, the entire history of rock ’n’ roll flashed before my eyes: Elvis, Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Fats Domino, Haley, Vincent, Cochran; and the high school heroes, all the Bobbys, Spector’s girl groups and the beginnings of Motown; and the British Invasion, the Beatles and the Stones.
In a smoky cutting-room on Sunset Boulevard, the entire history of rock ’n’ roll flashed before my eyes: Elvis, Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Fats Domino, Haley, Vincent, Cochran; and the high school heroes, all the Bobbys, Spector’s girl groups and the beginnings of Motown; and the British Invasion, the Beatles and the Stones.
These last had long footage to themselves—Mick, Keith, Brian, Bill and Charlie—a reel of concerts, TV appearances, interviews, riots. I wasn’t counting, but I don’t recall more than a single shot of Bill Wyman, slow-faced, static, inscrutable, and Charlie Watts’ solitary offering to an interrogatory mike: “Dunno”.
