A couple of months ago I watched the Plexifilm-released  documentary of Saint Etienne's loving ode to London, Finisterre, and was blown away by its wealth of detail and obvious attachment to the psycho-geography that inspired the band. Fusing together that band's delightful music with a history of the city and its various boroughs, I wondered if an American city could be handled the same superb way, with maybe a little more focus on the actual musicians involved.

             With another Plexifilm release, Spend An Evening With Saddle Creek, just such a thing is accomplished. It doesn't exactly go whole hog on Omaha (though its included alternate beginning actually goes a long way towards that direction), but it uses time and space expertly in showing a few brief lives creating meaning out of community, that is, friendship and the desire to fascinate each other with song.

             Directed and shot by Jason Kulbel and Rob Walters, this is a wonderfully put together oral history of Nebraska's sparkling independent record company, spanning its growth over a decade. This DVD captures the intelligence and passion of the distinctive, sublimely influential bands such as Bright Eyes, Cursive, the Faint, and Azure Ray, in the photography that Walters has been taking and the publicity Kulbel has been doing for the label since the mid-90s.

             Kulbel was the first hired employee, next in line after one of its original founders, Robb Nansel. Nansel was friends with a guy named Ted Stevens, and there was an emo-core band that was blowing everybody away in the area called Slowdown Virginia, led by a geeky, gaunt, hyperactive arty punk kid named Tim Kasher. That band had a bizarre youthful energy that mesmerized most who experienced their frenzied live shows around the Nebraska area.

             At some point Stevens and Nansel and some others decided to put out a cassette called Water by a gifted, remarkably mature fourteen year old artist named Conor Oberst, who had been playing out with the rocking Commander Venus. Oberst's solo sound was a surprise, a sensual, inertial collection of observances and lamentations about the discovery of love and hope deferred. His unique voice and unashamed vulnerability intrigued a lot of people, annoyed others. Stevens claimed to like the tape at the time when friends queried him about it, but he's not so sure now. The label was created to put a name on the tape, called Lumberjack, which stuck through the release of the Slowdown Virginia CD (put out by collecting bucks from pals eager to pitch in), before being advised that people might confuse them with Lumberjack distribution.

             Stevens himself would go on to form Lullaby For The Working Class and release an album on another label, before coming back to do some more for Saddle Creek, named that in pre-emptive sarcastic response to outsiders starting to mock the sound that was developing. I mean, some of these were silly, pretentious kids from prep school, playing songs for each other, not getting jobs opening bagel stores and buying albums made by millionaires.

             As the droll and often quietly hilarious Stevens explains it, the idea was for friends to help each other out, play on each other's records, put records out. His band Lullaby For The Working Class used unusual (for rock music anyway) folk instruments, and created well thought out, emotionally affecting music of depth and freshness. Stevens would later go on to be in Cursive with Kasher, start another band called Mayday, etc. His band-mates AJ and Mike Mogis give excellent, excited interviews throughout explaining the dynamics of working with the groups and never losing faith, eventually finding their roles as producers and engineers of the Saddle Creek sound.

             The Faint seemed to stress Nansel out a bit by checking with major labels when they started getting outside-of-the-area attention with their unique update on the post-punk electronic sound, but that scenario ends happily with them realizing how good things already were. This is a devastating moment, as it brings to mind all the bands that decided to "move on" and eventually lose what made everything special in the first place: the relationships involved. But art and commerce are tricky things, and not everyone has the same path. But that humble idealism is a beautiful thing to behold here.

             The sincere devotion for their snugly-woven music milieu is reflected in how lovingly these details are presented, warts and temptations and all. And as we watch Conor Oberst and Tim Kasher and Ted Stevens and others develop their art, with Oberst experimenting in the studio like a post-modern Buddy Holly, still looking so young and doe-eyed and happy to just be playing music, and Kasher wrestling with his own restless muse and the ambivalent energy he transforms from his awkward conundrums, the glorious explosion of the creation of Saddle Creek is captured in this moment.

             I do wish the interviews with Maria Taylor and Orenda Fink of Azure Ray and the other people in the Good Life besides Kasher were a little longer, as with many of the other great bands also on the label, Desaparecidos, Rilo Kiley, and Now It's Overhead. The sped-up ending trying to wrap up the first decade of signings comes far too quick. Then again, the Bright Eyes portion could be at least another hour in itself, couldn't it? And the extras are extra-good too, with great live clips and additional interview material you can't wait to get to once you've seen the main feature.

             Outstanding, and hopefully it will reverse the trend of some recent band DVDs that were less honest, less interesting, and too theme-focused (thank God there's not a lot of talk about touring here). As the liner notes by Kulbel and Walters claim, this is a present to the fans of Saddle Creek from two fans. It's just great those two fans were so fucking talented at how they interviewed people, shot the documentary, and put it together for the rest of us.