What sounded intriguing in theory turned out to be even more amazing than I could have imagined in practice. Califone’s Tim Rutili made a movie “All My Friends Are Funeral Singers” about a house full of ghosts, with music by and also starring Califone. When they presented the movie at this year’s Sundance Film Festival for one of the shows the band played along with the movie, providing a live soundtrack. Tonight, they were doing the same thing at Chicago’s Lincoln Hall before taking it on the road again for the film portion of Austin’s SXSW festival, with an additional performance during the music segment. If you are going to be in Austin I highly recommend checking it out.
The band sat in a line across the edge of the stage, drums, guitars, keyboards, a banjo, a violin and a bass clarinet wedged in between them. Rutili, who wrote and directed the movie, had his back to us, the rest were angled toward the screen. It would have been cool no matter what, just watching the band play in synch with their screen selves, with none of the usual communication that goes on between songs, was remarkable. At times the live version would be playing the same instrument as their screen selves. Other times I was surprised to see them doing completely different things, like when screen Jim Becker was playing violin while the Becker on stage plucked a banjo. But the fact that the film itself was so engrossing made the whole experience mind-boggling.
Zella, a psychic advisor, lives in her grandmother’s big, old house with a collection of very solid ghosts that only she can see and who help her with her business. Every day she drags the sign out to the highway, but her only clients are a smarmy dude looking for names of racehorses and an older friend who wants to talk to her dead husband. Both get what they want, the diamond crusted grill the oily sycophant is wearing on his third visit is evidence of that, but the ghosts aren’t happy. I won’t give any more away; you should see it for yourself (with or without the band). Because the film succeeds on its own, the story is absorbing and the cinematography is artfully trippy and visually captivating. In fact, the only disappointment was that not all of the acting was at the same level. As blind musicians with no speaking parts, the band members (the Funeral Singers of the title) were all great, especially percussionist Ben Masarella whose flowing white gown and empty eyes were unnerving.
The applause began as the credits rolled, growing louder for certain names, for example “Live Mix for Performance- Ryan Hembrey.” I was sure that would be the end of the show, but as the clapping continued the band wove their way back to their spots on stage. “We’re going to play a few more songs for you,” Rutili announced, “and like the Jesus and Mary Chain back in the day we are going to do it with our backs to you.” Like their thirty minute set opening for Wilco a few weeks ago, this short set was stunning and concise. There were moments of jam, but they were essential, not the exhausting noodling I’ve seen before. It was all brilliant, absolutely brilliant.
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