How does that law about 1,000 monkeys with typewriters go? If you leave them alone long enough, one will eventually type "Hamlet"? Well, it might be stretching that law to apply it to 1,000 "turnstylists." If you line them up with enough records to scratch, spin or twist, it's unlikely that they would even come up with a rumble of percussive creativity that you could fit onto the tip of a drumstick of Ginger Baker, Joe Morello, Gene Krupa or even Ringo Starr.
When viewing "Scratch", which played in the documentary competition at the Sundance Film Festival, it's hard not to think you're watching a "This Is Spinal Tap" sendup of the accomplished world of hip-hop DJs, guys who developed the "art" of scratching records and jiggling vinyl in such a way as to win acclaim and stardom. From the filmmaking team that made "Hype", a well-wrought documentary that chronicled the grunge movement a few years back, "Scratch" traces this record-wreckers phenomenon, spinning forth from its inspirations for br eak dancing up to the more recent craze of "turntablism."
Whatever one might think of this kind of artistry, this straight-on document is a well-wrought film. For those of you who don't watch MTV with any regularity, "Scratch" is a nonjudgmental, generous glimpse into this modern-day entertainment form. Admittedly, these gratings and scratchings infuse the music with a different tonal quality and texture. They do dredge up certain textural sounds -- castanets, snare drums, glockenspiels.
In this supportive depiction of the proclaimed artistry of the hip-hop DJ, the filmmakers intersperse, among the scratchings, interviews with the "artists," including Grand Wizard Theodore, who, according to the cognoscenti, "invented" the idea of scratching a record by moving it back and forth.
There's also some keen commentary from Afrika Bambaataa, who returned to the South Bronx from a high school trip to Africa and formed the Zulu Nation, bringing together graffiti practitioners, break dancers, rappers and, as we see here, the DJs. Such other luminaries of hip-hop as Jazzy Jay and Grand Mixer DXT also lend their aesthetic insights. These guys wax passionately on the creative essence of turntablism.
Not surprisingly, we find it's a pretty populist and readily accessible calling: Anybody with a new -- or even an old -- record turntable and a pile of old records to scratch, plus the urge to make grating sounds, can satisfy their inspirations immediately. Best yet about this art form, there's not even a 10-easy-lessons course to send away for. In the same manner, a toddler with access to a bunch of pots, pans and spoons could attain the distinction of being as talented a percussionist and performance stylist of the various artists presented here.
Admittedly, it's hard to keep a straight face through some of the more "Spinal Tap"-ish interviews, especially when one of the "artists" talks about practicing all day, from sunup to sundown in his mama's house, perfecting his wrist flicks and needle rubs.
Verbal rim shots aside, there's something to be said for this racket, err, music; also, there's some showmanship involved, including some DJs who spin and twirl. They've got game, if not necessarily music, and one only goes to hope that someday Allen Iverson brings not only his court sense but also his lyrical sensibilities to this special artistic world. Like most specialized callings, there are also some smug self-flagellations, especially the pomposity of one particular creative guru who painstakingly scouts heaps of old records, like some sort of musical anthropologist finding just the right old Clyde McCoy to scratch the heck out of.
SCRATCH
A Doug Pray film
Producers: Brad Blondheim, Ernest Meza
Director-editor: Doug Pray
Story structure: Brad Blondheim
Executiv e producers: Allen Hughes, Albert Hughes
Director of photography: Robert Bennett
Co-producer: Heidi Rataj Addison
Associate producer: John Carluccio
Music supervisors: Carol Sue Baker, Jonathan Hafter
Sound design, editorial, re-recording mixer: David Bartlett
Creative adviser: Grand Mixer DXT
Color/stereo
Running time -- 85 minutes
No MPAA rating...
When viewing "Scratch", which played in the documentary competition at the Sundance Film Festival, it's hard not to think you're watching a "This Is Spinal Tap" sendup of the accomplished world of hip-hop DJs, guys who developed the "art" of scratching records and jiggling vinyl in such a way as to win acclaim and stardom. From the filmmaking team that made "Hype", a well-wrought documentary that chronicled the grunge movement a few years back, "Scratch" traces this record-wreckers phenomenon, spinning forth from its inspirations for br eak dancing up to the more recent craze of "turntablism."
Whatever one might think of this kind of artistry, this straight-on document is a well-wrought film. For those of you who don't watch MTV with any regularity, "Scratch" is a nonjudgmental, generous glimpse into this modern-day entertainment form. Admittedly, these gratings and scratchings infuse the music with a different tonal quality and texture. They do dredge up certain textural sounds -- castanets, snare drums, glockenspiels.
In this supportive depiction of the proclaimed artistry of the hip-hop DJ, the filmmakers intersperse, among the scratchings, interviews with the "artists," including Grand Wizard Theodore, who, according to the cognoscenti, "invented" the idea of scratching a record by moving it back and forth.
There's also some keen commentary from Afrika Bambaataa, who returned to the South Bronx from a high school trip to Africa and formed the Zulu Nation, bringing together graffiti practitioners, break dancers, rappers and, as we see here, the DJs. Such other luminaries of hip-hop as Jazzy Jay and Grand Mixer DXT also lend their aesthetic insights. These guys wax passionately on the creative essence of turntablism.
Not surprisingly, we find it's a pretty populist and readily accessible calling: Anybody with a new -- or even an old -- record turntable and a pile of old records to scratch, plus the urge to make grating sounds, can satisfy their inspirations immediately. Best yet about this art form, there's not even a 10-easy-lessons course to send away for. In the same manner, a toddler with access to a bunch of pots, pans and spoons could attain the distinction of being as talented a percussionist and performance stylist of the various artists presented here.
Admittedly, it's hard to keep a straight face through some of the more "Spinal Tap"-ish interviews, especially when one of the "artists" talks about practicing all day, from sunup to sundown in his mama's house, perfecting his wrist flicks and needle rubs.
Verbal rim shots aside, there's something to be said for this racket, err, music; also, there's some showmanship involved, including some DJs who spin and twirl. They've got game, if not necessarily music, and one only goes to hope that someday Allen Iverson brings not only his court sense but also his lyrical sensibilities to this special artistic world. Like most specialized callings, there are also some smug self-flagellations, especially the pomposity of one particular creative guru who painstakingly scouts heaps of old records, like some sort of musical anthropologist finding just the right old Clyde McCoy to scratch the heck out of.
SCRATCH
A Doug Pray film
Producers: Brad Blondheim, Ernest Meza
Director-editor: Doug Pray
Story structure: Brad Blondheim
Executiv e producers: Allen Hughes, Albert Hughes
Director of photography: Robert Bennett
Co-producer: Heidi Rataj Addison
Associate producer: John Carluccio
Music supervisors: Carol Sue Baker, Jonathan Hafter
Sound design, editorial, re-recording mixer: David Bartlett
Creative adviser: Grand Mixer DXT
Color/stereo
Running time -- 85 minutes
No MPAA rating...
How does that law about 1,000 monkeys with typewriters go? If you leave them alone long enough, one will eventually type "Hamlet"? Well, it might be stretching that law to apply it to 1,000 "turnstylists." If you line them up with enough records to scratch, spin or twist, it's unlikely that they would even come up with a rumble of percussive creativity that you could fit onto the tip of a drumstick of Ginger Baker, Joe Morello, Gene Krupa or even Ringo Starr.
When viewing "Scratch", which played in the documentary competition at the Sundance Film Festival, it's hard not to think you're watching a "This Is Spinal Tap" sendup of the accomplished world of hip-hop DJs, guys who developed the "art" of scratching records and jiggling vinyl in such a way as to win acclaim and stardom. From the filmmaking team that made "Hype", a well-wrought documentary that chronicled the grunge movement a few years back, "Scratch" traces this record-wreckers phenomenon, spinning forth from its inspirations for br eak dancing up to the more recent craze of "turntablism."
Whatever one might think of this kind of artistry, this straight-on document is a well-wrought film. For those of you who don't watch MTV with any regularity, "Scratch" is a nonjudgmental, generous glimpse into this modern-day entertainment form. Admittedly, these gratings and scratchings infuse the music with a different tonal quality and texture. They do dredge up certain textural sounds -- castanets, snare drums, glockenspiels.
In this supportive depiction of the proclaimed artistry of the hip-hop DJ, the filmmakers intersperse, among the scratchings, interviews with the "artists," including Grand Wizard Theodore, who, according to the cognoscenti, "invented" the idea of scratching a record by moving it back and forth.
There's also some keen commentary from Afrika Bambaataa, who returned to the South Bronx from a high school trip to Africa and formed the Zulu Nation, bringing together graffiti practitioners, break dancers, rappers and, as we see here, the DJs. Such other luminaries of hip-hop as Jazzy Jay and Grand Mixer DXT also lend their aesthetic insights. These guys wax passionately on the creative essence of turntablism.
Not surprisingly, we find it's a pretty populist and readily accessible calling: Anybody with a new -- or even an old -- record turntable and a pile of old records to scratch, plus the urge to make grating sounds, can satisfy their inspirations immediately. Best yet about this art form, there's not even a 10-easy-lessons course to send away for. In the same manner, a toddler with access to a bunch of pots, pans and spoons could attain the distinction of being as talented a percussionist and performance stylist of the various artists presented here.
Admittedly, it's hard to keep a straight face through some of the more "Spinal Tap"-ish interviews, especially when one of the "artists" talks about practicing all day, from sunup to sundown in his mama's house, perfecting his wrist flicks and needle rubs.
Verbal rim shots aside, there's something to be said for this racket, err, music; also, there's some showmanship involved, including some DJs who spin and twirl. They've got game, if not necessarily music, and one only goes to hope that someday Allen Iverson brings not only his court sense but also his lyrical sensibilities to this special artistic world. Like most specialized callings, there are also some smug self-flagellations, especially the pomposity of one particular creative guru who painstakingly scouts heaps of old records, like some sort of musical anthropologist finding just the right old Clyde McCoy to scratch the heck out of.
SCRATCH
A Doug Pray film
Producers: Brad Blondheim, Ernest Meza
Director-editor: Doug Pray
Story structure: Brad Blondheim
Executiv e producers: Allen Hughes, Albert Hughes
Director of photography: Robert Bennett
Co-producer: Heidi Rataj Addison
Associate producer: John Carluccio
Music supervisors: Carol Sue Baker, Jonathan Hafter
Sound design, editorial, re-recording mixer: David Bartlett
Creative adviser: Grand Mixer DXT
Color/stereo
Running time -- 85 minutes
No MPAA rating...
When viewing "Scratch", which played in the documentary competition at the Sundance Film Festival, it's hard not to think you're watching a "This Is Spinal Tap" sendup of the accomplished world of hip-hop DJs, guys who developed the "art" of scratching records and jiggling vinyl in such a way as to win acclaim and stardom. From the filmmaking team that made "Hype", a well-wrought documentary that chronicled the grunge movement a few years back, "Scratch" traces this record-wreckers phenomenon, spinning forth from its inspirations for br eak dancing up to the more recent craze of "turntablism."
Whatever one might think of this kind of artistry, this straight-on document is a well-wrought film. For those of you who don't watch MTV with any regularity, "Scratch" is a nonjudgmental, generous glimpse into this modern-day entertainment form. Admittedly, these gratings and scratchings infuse the music with a different tonal quality and texture. They do dredge up certain textural sounds -- castanets, snare drums, glockenspiels.
In this supportive depiction of the proclaimed artistry of the hip-hop DJ, the filmmakers intersperse, among the scratchings, interviews with the "artists," including Grand Wizard Theodore, who, according to the cognoscenti, "invented" the idea of scratching a record by moving it back and forth.
There's also some keen commentary from Afrika Bambaataa, who returned to the South Bronx from a high school trip to Africa and formed the Zulu Nation, bringing together graffiti practitioners, break dancers, rappers and, as we see here, the DJs. Such other luminaries of hip-hop as Jazzy Jay and Grand Mixer DXT also lend their aesthetic insights. These guys wax passionately on the creative essence of turntablism.
Not surprisingly, we find it's a pretty populist and readily accessible calling: Anybody with a new -- or even an old -- record turntable and a pile of old records to scratch, plus the urge to make grating sounds, can satisfy their inspirations immediately. Best yet about this art form, there's not even a 10-easy-lessons course to send away for. In the same manner, a toddler with access to a bunch of pots, pans and spoons could attain the distinction of being as talented a percussionist and performance stylist of the various artists presented here.
Admittedly, it's hard to keep a straight face through some of the more "Spinal Tap"-ish interviews, especially when one of the "artists" talks about practicing all day, from sunup to sundown in his mama's house, perfecting his wrist flicks and needle rubs.
Verbal rim shots aside, there's something to be said for this racket, err, music; also, there's some showmanship involved, including some DJs who spin and twirl. They've got game, if not necessarily music, and one only goes to hope that someday Allen Iverson brings not only his court sense but also his lyrical sensibilities to this special artistic world. Like most specialized callings, there are also some smug self-flagellations, especially the pomposity of one particular creative guru who painstakingly scouts heaps of old records, like some sort of musical anthropologist finding just the right old Clyde McCoy to scratch the heck out of.
SCRATCH
A Doug Pray film
Producers: Brad Blondheim, Ernest Meza
Director-editor: Doug Pray
Story structure: Brad Blondheim
Executiv e producers: Allen Hughes, Albert Hughes
Director of photography: Robert Bennett
Co-producer: Heidi Rataj Addison
Associate producer: John Carluccio
Music supervisors: Carol Sue Baker, Jonathan Hafter
Sound design, editorial, re-recording mixer: David Bartlett
Creative adviser: Grand Mixer DXT
Color/stereo
Running time -- 85 minutes
No MPAA rating...
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