“They should have been the band that went way beyond any of us who were influenced by them.”
– Les Claypool of Primus, talking about Fishbone
As musicians, as a peerless, exemplary band, Fishbone’s original lineup – Kendall Jones (guitar), Norwood Fisher (bass), Chris Dowd (keyboards, trombone), Phillip “Fish” Fisher (drums), “Dirty” Walt Kibby II (trumpet), Angelo Moore (lead vocals, sax, theremin) – were so many disparate things all at once, and such a seamless if volatile fusion of those things, that they existed outside any box you might try to put them in. Formed in 1979, they defied easy categorization, challenged too many lazy but enduring stereotypes, and so the fame and fortune that should have been theirs eluded them, even as countless bands lifted from them and achieved far greater success than they did. It’s an age-old scenario for all manner of visionaries, but that fact does nothing to soften the blows Fishbone had to absorb.
That career summary might seem like the beginning of a mistimed eulogy, given that an incarnation of the band is very much alive and kicking, deserving of not only respect but fan faith; they’re still one of the best live acts you’ll see. But as the documentary Everyday Sunshine: The Story of Fishbone (narrated by Laurence Fishburne) makes clear, almost from the start of their career Fishbone was one of the best rock/punk/what-the-hell-ever bands America has produced, regardless of genre, and Angelo Moore deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as any other legendary rock, punk, soul, or funk front-man. All of which means there’s more than a little tragedy to the ill-fated band’s career trajectory.
Co-directed by Lev Anderson and Chris Metzler, Everyday Sunshine is clearly an act of love by guys who are huge fans of the band. That works to and against the film’s favor. The film jumps back and forth across the time-line, from past to present and then back again, ostensibly in an effort to not be unimaginatively literal in the storytelling, but it often thwarts the tension of the story being told. And it is a head spinning story.
As the viewer takes in jaw dropping performance clips of the band at different stages of their career – new kids on the block; next big thing; luster slightly fading; reluctantly lowered expectations; where are they now? – brotherly love within the band is matched by high octane tensions that eventually blast apart the original line-up, in some cases creating fractures that cannot be healed. Those tensions are at the core of the band’s unclassifiable sound. It is repeatedly made clear that the group mantra was that everyone’s taste and artistic goals be integrated. At one point in the film, ex-manager Roger Perry remarks, “Had Fishbone been less of a democracy, they might have been a more successful band. But had they been less of a democracy, they wouldn’t have been Fishbone.” The film painfully illustrates the high price of that democracy.
Clips from various of the band’s old music videos are intermingled with original interview and concert footage from today. It’s illuminating but sobering as history is put into perspective even as its effects are laid bare. Sparsely attended modern day concerts are spliced with footage both old and new to tell a collective tale of alcoholism, cult religion, daddy issues that splinter the group (and seemingly cost one member his sanity), massive record label fuckups, girlfriends and children, and the very high costs of disillusionment. The sight of Angelo, weathered into middle-age and living back with his mom by necessity, is heartbreaking, but there’s something familiarly mad scientist about his devotion to his craft and experimenting with his music despite it all. Norwood Fisher, who might be one of the coolest individuals ever, generously but ambiguously sums up his cohort with a simple, “He’s a conflicted brother.”
Throughout, glowing testimonials roll in from Ice-T, Gwen Stefani, Mike Watt (Minutemen,) Keith Morris (Circle Jerks), actor Tim Robbins, Eugene Hütz (Gogol Bordello,) and jazzman Branford Marsalis, who establishes the band’s music bona fides with the observation, “The musicians get it; the other people don’t.”
One of the strongest sections of the film talks about the band’s personal and artistic responses to the riots/rebellion that broke out following the 1992 acquittal of the cops who beat Rodney King. In words that are eerily timely, Fisher says of the verdict, “It just killed a certain part of your hopefulness and your sense of justice. It was like, ‘the system does not work for you Black man.’ It definitely changed us as people, and it had a profound effect on our music and our art as well.”
Footage from the early ‘90s shows Kendall Jones explaining the band’s dark musical turn by saying, “Happy niggas are dead. That cute little shit that nobody really understood with [the band’s early single] ‘Party at Ground Zero,’ that they thought was just a happy, get drunk frat-boy rock song? Ain’t none of that happening now.”
The thing is, Fishbone, like N.W.A. and various other hip-hop acts, had already made music that foreshadowed the riots. Their 1991 album The Reality of My Surroundings bottles the kind of political commentary and sonic fury that would garner kudos for various gangsta rappers, but only reached a small listenership for Fishbone. In part that’s because radio, the media, and the band’s label had no idea how to process or promote artful black resistance that didn’t chute along expected or familiar passageways. That’s the Fishbone story in a nutshell. Co-directors Lev Anderson and Chris Metzler splinter that nutshell and show just how maddening, inspiring, almost unbelievable that story is.
The film can be rented online here.
Photo Credit: Anne Summa
Ernest Hardy is a Sundance Fellow whose music and film criticism have appeared in the New YorkTimes, the Village Voice, Vibe, Rolling Stone, LA Times, and LA Weekly. His collection of criticism, Blood Beats Vol. 1: Demos, Remixes and Extended Versions (2006) was a recipient of the 2007 PEN / Beyond Margins Award.
