That’s where you’ll find Rick Kelly. The Long Island native with the gray hair and the slightly oversized black t-shirt might be ambling around the retail section of the storefront, which he opened up in 1990. He might be talking to his elderly mom Dorothy, who balances the books, answers the phones and dusts the framed pics of Kelly standing next to a who’s who of ax-wielders. He might be in the workshop in the back, making the same sort of handcrafted guitars he’s been building in one downtown place or another since the early ’70s, or possibly offering tips to Cindy Hulej, the 25-year-old who’s become his apprentice of sorts.
But if he’s not out collecting wood from old Gotham landmarks, Kelly is almost certainly there, Monday through Friday, working away in his modest, cluttered little store. Occasionally, old friends will drop in – like Charlie Sexton or the Roots’ “Captain” Kirk Douglas or former Fiery Furnaces co-founder Eleanor Friedberger – to make a purchase or just talk six-strings. One day, Stranger Than Paradise star Eszter Balint might be picking a bluesy number over in the corner; the next, Jim Jarmusch may stop by to discuss bugs and his favourite types of trees. Like a lot of New York musicians and fellow hardcore guitar nerds, they love the sound these instruments make. And they love the vibe of the place, the sort of funky, throwback West Village joint that feels like time stands still once you enter the premises. “You need to move into the 21st century,” Hulej tells her boss at one point. “Why?” he replies.
There are a number of standout moments in Ron Mann’s loving tribute to this West Village institution, a shoebox of a shop dedicated to preserving the storied history of the city in more ways than one. Your personal favourite might end being be Kelly getting positively giddy over hitting the mother lode, i.e. timber from the famed saloon McSorley’s, or the owner and Stewart Hurwood, Lou Reed’s longtime guitar tech, talking about that signature V.U. droning sound. If you’ve ever wanted to see avant-jazz legend Bill Frisell casually play the surf-instrumental anthem “Pipeline,” you’ve come to the right doc. And while Mann is usually a big-picture type of filmmaker – see: the invaluable history lesson Comic Book Confidential; the war-on-weed breakdown Grass, he’s going for much more of a loose, intimate hang-out feel here. Gentrification does rear its ugly head, in the form of someone overheard raving about “an omelette with shaved fennel” they just had and a For Sale sign on the building next door. A realtor briefly comes sniffing around, visions of condo construction and six-figure rents dancing in his head. Kelly politely gives him the brush-off.
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