Arthur Russell was a cellist, underground disco producer and composer who for a significant period assumed a prominent role in New York's experimental music scene. Raised in the prairies of Oskaloosa, Iowa, he demonstrated an unusual thirst for music and literature which served to both distance him from his high school peers and act as the catalyst for his eventual breakaway to San Francisco in the late '60s. It was here that he met the hippie movement in full-swing, making up for lost time by joining a Buddhist commune and studying North Indian music at the Ali Akbar College of Music, all the while sharpening his skills on his instrument and becoming fully immersed in the universe of sound that irreversibly enriched and dominated his life.
It's on Russell's time in New York that the bulk of Wolf's documentary focuses, however, beginning with his instatement as Director of Music at the Kitchen, a prolific hotspot for likeminded artists; covering his subsequent creation of original, oddly alien disco tracks in the early '80s; and drifting onwards towards the numerous experiments that acted as the lynchpin for his debut record, World of Echo. Russell's arrival in the city was a period of both musical and personal discovery, and Wolf skilfully translates the sense of possibility that he recognised and seized-upon in his new creative environment. In amongst grainy footage of dancers and performance artists, we witness evidence of Russell's flowering talents, captured in rare performances of his uniquely expressive form in its infancy, alongside shots of the legendary Loft nightclub and the associated scene that captivated him for much of the disco-era.
Throughout the film, commentary is supplied through a series of interviews with Russell's friends and fellow musicians, each of which go some way to shed light on a figure that's still largely shrouded in mystery. Russell's partner, Tom Lee, is particularly insightful in drawing his elusive character into focus. Through his frank descriptions of life with an obsessive artist - one whom he expresses unfading love and admiration for - we are offered a glimpse into the intimate nature of their relationship and the ways in which it inspired Russell's work. Philip Glass and Allen Ginsberg also adopt prominent roles in the narrative, the latter articulating Russell's strange allure ("delicate, exquisite minded, youthful, and at the same time oddly reticent") and sharing stories of the time they spent together as creative companions before and after his AIDS diagnosis.
Russell's independent drive is emphatically promoted over the course of the film, as he determined to avoid outside distraction and commit his alien utopia to reams of magnetic tape. Russell's father, Chuck, recounts a conversation in which he phoned his son to offer him work in the insurance industry, a proposition resolutely refused by his son without the need to draw breath. Intimate details such as this suggest Russell's visionary nature; he felt destined to rise above his relative obscurity and create music that mattered. Archive footage of him awkwardly nestling into a Talking Heads performance on acoustic guitar and accosting the Modern Lovers after a gig highlight that he possessed the ambition to do so, but was anchored by a combination of wild temperament and uncompromising attitude to the various projects that bore his name.
Russell's visionary drive, however, ultimately allowed his output to endure, something recognised and touchingly appreciated by his parents after his passing. We are now faced with the fantastic prospect of a gradual unearthing, and eventual release, of Russell's extensive back catalogue. The hidden gems that emerge through the enthusiastic hands of Lee or Steve Knutson, his self-appointed archivist, will continue to draw fresh ears to Russell's music in years to come. The numerous songs that Wolf litters across the film go some way to demonstrate Russell's remarkable appeal, displaying an effortless ability to hop from the dance-floor to the avant-garde with delicate ease and originality, in numerous cases transcending genre entirely.
Over the film's somewhat brief runtime, Wolf manages to wring a huge amount from his subject, colouring Russell's music through the use of evocative imagery -- in one scene displaying the windswept cornfields of his hometown, and in another showing Arthur obsessing over mixes on the Staton Island ferry. In merging sound with image so expertly - particularly during the ferry ride, in which 'Wild Combination' shimmers across the water from Russell's treasured cassette player - he highlights both the scope and cinematic appeal of his music. Towards the film's conclusion, in a scene from Russell's Iowa home, Lee plays snippets from an overwhelmingly large catalogue of recordings, glowing as he unearths a demo of 'Love Is Overtaking Me' and shares his habit of stocking up on his partner's old tapes before heading off for trips away from his adopted countryside retreat. The documentary mirrors this intensity of feeling, broaching its inspiring subject with utmost humility and supplying a fascinating context in which to consider Russell's rich legacy.