Recommended Viewing - Mayor of the Sunset Strip

He is an unabashed fan of stardom. Yes, even Led Zeppelin frontman Robert Plant admitted that Rodney Bingenheimer, a former stand-in for The Monkees singer Davy Jones, got laid more than he did. And he was such an unlikely star. A soft-spoken and shy guy who by all accounts seemed ill-fitted for his role as a mover and shaker in the radio business, Bingenheimer still was responsible for breaking more acts in this country than any other radio DJ ever did. He knew (and still knows) what we want to hear even before we do. That's a part of his genius. He has a set of the greatest ears in the business. A very short list of the acts that Bingenheimer introduced to the world includes Blondie, the Ramones, the Sex Pistols, Guns N' Roses, Duran Duran, The Cure, Joan Jett, Hole, Symbol Six, No Doubt, Blur, Nirvana, Sonic Youth, The Bangles and X.

And yet his story is so bittersweet.

Today's installment is a documentary recommendation. "Mayor of the Sunset Strip" is a terrific film, and it's definitely worth viewing. It's a snapshot of a particular place and a particular time in the American music scene. Bingenheimer was especially tuned in to that, and he was very adept at reading that in his role as a radio DJ at the Los Angeles station KROQ...indeed, "Rodney on the ROQ" still is a catchphrase all these years past his heyday.

From the story "A Man Out of Time"
at LA Weekly
By Kate Sullivan

Mayor of the Sunset Strip (Bingenheimer's unofficial title in the glam-rock days) tells the story of his life from early childhood through his heyday as KROQ's punk pied piper to his eventual ghettoization on Sunday nights (midnight to 3 a.m.) on KROQ. It follows his early days as a rock & roll groupie, living with Sonny and Cher; his job as Davy Jones' stand-in on The Monkees; his record-label jobs; and his nightclub.

The parade of celebrities he befriends -- and takes snaps with -- is bizarre, including just about everyone from Elvis to Gwen Stefani. (He's truly the Where's Waldo of rock.) And though the film never gives a proper list, it's obvious he's broken more bands than anyone at KROQ -- and maybe anyone in L.A. radio history. Some early KROQ DJs might quibble, but the official story is that Rodney was the first to break the Sex Pistols, Ramones, the Runaways, Generation X, the Go-Go's, X, the Clash, Black Flag, Blur, Nirvana -- on and on and on, right through to Coldplay and the Strokes. At a station that made its name taking risks, Rodney took the most.

But the film is not just a biography. It also describes the cultural moment that produced Bingenheimer: that chaotic window between the late 60s and early 80s when rock culture, and rock radio, were being reinvented -- first by hippies, then punk rockers (who weren't too different philosophically, it turned out). The film features old footage of kids hanging out on the Strip -- back when broke teens could still live in West Hollywood as non-hookers. It's amazing: In these shots, young people are actually walking down Sunset during the day, waiting for the bus, talking, whatever. The light has a golden quality. The storefronts look humble, the clothes inexpensive. Everyone's smiling. It's a glimpse of Hollywood street life -- and rock & roll culture -- before money took over.

Bingenheimer may have been a starfucker, but he's never given a shit about money. And when you think about the amount of wealth he has generated for the record industry, for bands and for KROQ's owners, it just doesn't seem fair.

But, I mean, look at what I've got here, he says, gesturing at his stacks of vintage vinyl, his snapshots and autographs, his prized Nina Hagen Halloween mask. And getting named on the records -- bands always thank me and stuff. I get recognition from them. He pulls out a coffee-table book on Oasis featuring a picture of the band getting signed to Creation Records in 1993. Rodney's there, grinning on sofa. His walls are covered with framed photos, many of them taken in his club: Rodney and Marc Bolan; Brooke Shields and Jimmy McNichol; the Turtles; Bowie. Then there's his prized possession -- John and Yoko's autographs.

He's also got a framed letter from Phil Spector hanging next to the bathroom door: "Always be good to rock & roll, it says, and it will always be good to you."

"When I go to New York, I can stay with Debbie Harry and Chris Stein," Bingenheimer continues, a little defensively, "and when I go to London, it's like I'm like the Beatles. Everybody takes care of me in London  you'd be surprised. Parties, out every night, dinners, everything."

The stardom is what he really cares about, and he seems to treasure what that really means. As surrounded as he was by stardom, he appears to be oddly unaffected by the trappings of that lifestyle. By any other standard, Rodney Bingenheimer should be just as rich and as famous as the people he idolizes and interviews. Yet he hasn't taken that path. He is still a fan at heart, and that seems to be enough for him. That is something to respect.