4/22/23
Newsletter #314
The Crack of Dawn
I don’t know about you, but when I watch a video concert performance of almost any band that was shot in the last 50 years, the camera is almost always in the wrong place. This issue is so prevalent that I find it disheartening – did none of the directors shooting these concerts ever listen to the songs beforehand? Invariably, we’re in a medium close-up of the vocalist, then, for instance, there is a guitar solo. My brain is saying, “Cut to the guitarist,” and it will finally cut, but it’s to the drummer who is doing nothing special. Then, when the keyboard solo arrives, it cuts to the guitarist. When the drum solo occurs, it cuts to the bored vocalist and holds there. Of course, if the video director had any familiarity with the music, or God forbid, did some homework – like listen to the songs that are going to be played in advance, and make notations where the solos occur – they would at least have a chance of being in the right place at the right time.
I’m a big fan of Natalie Merchant. I liked 10,000 Maniacs before she went solo. Interestingly, I think, her solo work sounds distinctly different from her work with the band. So different, in fact, that my utterly awesome stereo – a 300-Watt McIntosh amplifier and a 100-pound JBL subwoofer – knows the difference. None of her band recordings make any use of the bottom end. Her solo stuff, however, which includes many quiet songs, generally makes use of the subwoofer. If nothing else, she wanted a heavier bass guitar and drum and got it. I like it when the subwoofer kicks in and the house shakes a little.
But back to my topic. When Natalie had her moment in the sun in the late 1990s after the release of her one big record, Tigerlily, she wisely released a live album soon thereafter to get another album on the market. It’s a really good live album, inventively titled, Natalie Merchant Live in Concert. And she even had a big enough budget that a concert performance was shot and released (on VHS tape). There is no director listed in the credits, just a technical director, and I’ve never seen anything quite like it.
A live TV director calls the shots, literally. There is a patois that the director must follow, and it sounds something like this: “Ready on camera three? Take camera three. Camera two, tighten up. Ready on camera two? Take two. Bring up the title. Ready on title? Fade in title.” Etc. Everybody must be given notice, then say they’re ready. It’s not that hard, particularly shooting a rock band with three or four cameras. You have four or five people standing or sitting on a stage who don’t really move around all that much. Yes, you have Bruce Springsteen and Mick Jagger who like to run around, but they’re exceptions. Therefore, whatever style or rhythm you’re seeing in a concert performance is based on when the director asks for a specific camera, and how long they stay with it.
Live TV direction only becomes exciting when you keep adding more and more cameras, and you’re covering something with split-second action, like a football game. Those directors, who may have 18 cameras running, who must cover the right action at the right moment, are the top of the heap. Miss the big pass and reception and you’re fired.
So, on this Natalie Merchant Live in Concert VHS tape, there was no director listed – just a technical director: the person who runs the board – and I honestly do believe that there was no director. And just like on a TV production, if the director is lame, the DP and the 1st AD can step up and fill the gap, so in this case it was the technical director (I believe). Since all a technical director ever hears and does is, “Ready on camera two?” they poise their finger over a button, “Take camera two,” they push the button, what’s the big deal, right? But the reason a technical director isn’t a director is that sense of timing, even if it’s wrong.
I am absolutely certain, and the tape – which I shitcanned long ago – bears me out, the technical director never paused once between shots in 90-minutes. It’s one of the most aggravating things I’ve ever seen in my life. There are about six cameras spread out around the concert hall, all in normal places. And if you have any fucking brains at all, considering this show is called Natalie Merchant Live in Concert, you’ll stay mostly on Natalie.
No. A director can decide that; a technical director cannot. A technical director must go through all six of their cameras until informed otherwise. And there would be no point in pausing, that would just slow things down, so let’s go from one camera to the next in exactly the amount of time it takes to call for them – meaning, Natalie’s close-up is exactly as important as the shot of the bass player, and the wide shot of the concert hall, and the shot behind the band looking out at he audience, plus two others: a drummer keeping time on a cymbal and a keyboard player waiting to come in. I don’t know about you folks, but I want to see Natalie sing the song. If I were the director I would stay with that one shot and rarely if ever cut away. But no, we’re going around all six cameras every 120-seconds for the next 90-minutes. I thought I would die.
I considered keeping the tape should I ever teach a class in TV direction. This was the perfect example of how not to do it. But I shitcanned it anyway. The CD is really good, and Natalie stays in close-up in my mind all the time.
And a new day is coming, I’m pretty sure of that, but it’s already tomorrow.