Feminist Music Geek

X; from left to right: Billy Zoom, DJ Bonebrake, Exene Cervenka, John Doe

Thinking about Debbi in Repo Man, I remembered Exene Cervenka, another West Coast punk lady who scraped around in the 1980s. I saw X: The Unheard Music recently and highly recommend it. Simply put, it’s a documentary about L.A. punk pioneers, X, which was fronted by Cervenka and John Doe. It was released in 1986, Rent it, buy it, steal it, add it to your Netflix queue, whatever.

Despite its straight-forward premise, I really appreciate the documentary’s mixed media approach. Eschewing the standard talking head format, director W.T. Morgan weaves together concert footage, staged material, interviews, band rehearsals and recording sessions, tours of L.A. neighborhoods and venues, and direct-to-the-camera recollections from the band and some of the relevant people in their lives who worked with them. Oh, and Ray Manzerek.

I enjoyed the way in which the various ways in which the band were documented was put together, with clips often dialoging or juxtaposing with one another. For example, at one point, drummer DJ Bonebrake watches pre-recorded clips on a television in a rehearsal space, interrupting the images and sound as he changes the channel.

We also get lots of Exene, who has one of the most commanding presences in rock. We get interviews. Live performances. Recording sessions. Writing sessions with Doe (who she was probably divorced from at the time of filming). Tours through the dilapidated dressing rooms and bathrooms of punk clubs like the Masque. Candid discussions of her sister’s death. Footage of her scrawling in a journal.

But for me, the best part is the silent short in the middle of the film. Filmed in black and white, it tells the story of a ghost, played by Cervenka, and her solitary, ephemeral travels. This segment is a fascinating moment of rupture. But I think it also speaks to the ways in which females are absented in music culture and how they can (and must) manipulate, subvert, and comment on this marginalized status. There’s no doubt to me that this part of Cervenka helps inform the bullshitless banshee poet she was in the 1980s and remains to be today.