The Portland Museum of Art’s current photography exhibit, Backstage Pass: Rock & Roll Photography, is a reasonably comprehensive glance at the pop musicians of the second half of the twentieth century as cultural icons.
The featured photographs do not show musicians at work. They are press images and candid shots documenting the utopian rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle our culture has grown visually accustomed to in the past half-century.
According to the museum’s press release, the purpose of the exhibit is to “capture the intimate relationship between photographer and musician.” It is an implication that musicians rely upon the camera to perpetuate something, whether it be their coolness, realness or drunkenness. The exhibit, intentionally or not, questions the reasoning behind the public’s frank obsession with rock ‘n’ roll culture as a non-musical thing. Were the people behind the sounds really that interesting (or deserving of our attention), or did the photographers make them seem that way?
Many of the best photographers in the business are featured, including Lee Friedlander, Laura Levine, Baron Wolman and about 50 others. In terms of aesthetics and general photographic quality, the images are top-notch. Fans of the featured musicians will not be let down by the personality and intimacy of the photos.
As a whole, the exhibit doesn’t present anything new or particularly compelling. The best of its photographs speak beyond the confines of the frame.
Bob Gruen’s 1987 portrait of the young Beastie Boys with DJ Hurricane, for example, illustrates the downright smug attitude of their music and public persona of the time. Despite their juvenility, the Beastie Boys were brimming with ambition and talent that would eventually help bridge the racial gap in hip-hop music.
Gruen’s 1978 photo of Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols on an airport bus in Baton Rouge is another revelatory selection. Three male business-dressed passengers stare at the vociferous bassist-who is pictured reading a magazine-with utter disapproval, as if he is about to break something, or vomit. But he keeps to himself, complacently. Perhaps he spouts an obscenity seconds after the snap of the shutter, but that’s irrelevant. The photo is so non-punk that it is punk; Vicious silently puts the presumptuous squares firmly in their place by doing nothing at all.
There is a rather emotional photograph of Kurt Cobain crying helplessly on the floor somewhere in his home city of Seattle. It almost forcibly foreshadows the grim suicide photos in Cobain’s garage that would circulate a short time after.
As a historic, cultural representation of rock and roll music, Backstage Pass covers most the ground one would expect. Heavy-hitters like the Rolling Stones, the Beatles and Bob Dylan each have their own wall, while Roy Orbison, Buddy Holly and the Velvet Underground merely pop up here and there. Bands like the Smiths, Black Sabbath and Joy Division aren’t shown at all. One cannot expect every important band to be covered, but the likes of Moby and Rod Stewart appearing over the aforementioned rejects is a bit disconcerting.
The Portland Museum of Art is always a worthy visit, especially to USM students, who have free access with a student ID. Backstage Pass certainly has its share of entertaining and enjoyable selections. The sheer amount of photos and their geometric placement is a sight to see on its own. But the collection is nothing more than a collection; a broad visual essay of rock music, its parts far more interesting than the whole.