The South By Southwest Film Festival is a groovy counterpart to the much-publicized SXSW music conference. For some industry folks, however, SXSW is the fratboy of cinematic festivals, with its midnight horror flicks and high-profile feature films that don’t really need an advance showcase. Still, the film industry flocks to Austin to party, network, attend panels, watch celebrities and, of course, see movies. There were more than 5,500 festival badge-holders this year, and another 5,500 people who bought the lesser-status/lesser-access wristbands in hopes of attending national and regional premieres, special screenings, Texas-centric movies, cool documentaries, shorts and other manifestations of contemporary cinema. Not coincidently, the 2008 edition of the SXSW film festival featured a number of music-oriented films, and I’m here to tell you about a few of them that I saw. So hey-ho, let’s go!

The Toe Tactic is not exactly music-oriented, but it was directed by Emily Hubley and has a soundtrack by her sister Georgia’s band, Yo La Tengo. Yo La Tengo’s gentle, empathic music complimented this strange and touching film quite nicely. The movie mixes a semi-conventional human drama with some oddball animation to create an almost mystical meditation on a young adult (not) dealing with the death of a parent, and her long-delayed need to come to terms with that loved one’s passing. As a bonus, YLT was on hand for the festivities, and played a few gigs over the course of its week in Austin.

The Upsetter: The Life & Music of Lee “Scratch” Perry is a solid documentary focusing on reggae’s greatest dub-meister/producer/performer/metaphysical Rastaman. Perry is best known for his groundbreaking work with Bob Marley, but he got his start working for Coxsone Dodd and Joe Gibbs, and went on to produce essential sides by the Heptones, Max Romeo, Junior Murvin and the Congos, as well as numerous tracks of his own. The documentary provides plenty of fascinating history, vintage footage and essential interviews. Ganja burns brightly as Perry reveals himself as emotionally unbalanced but still shrewd enough to carve out a career—despite destroying his now-famous Black Ark Studio, leaving Jamaica, drinking and smoking himself into a messianic paranoid and eventually moving to Switzerland. Perry is now in his 70s and has stopped smoking weed, but he’s still crazy after all these years.

Lou Reed’s good friend and New York neighbor, Julian Schnabel, directed the concert film Lou Reed’s Berlin. It showcases a crusty old Lou performing his 1973 despair/drug/romance classic album Berlin in its entirety. Filmed in 2006 at St Ann’s Warehouse in Brooklyn, it’s a testament to the enduring quality of a record that was extremely unpopular when it was first released. With an arty, cinematic backdrop (also filmed by Schnabel) evoking the tragic tale, Reed and his band perform the rock opera with passionate precision from beginning to end. The all-star group includes some of the same folks who played on the original recording—specifically, Steve Hunter reprising his lead-guitar role and producer/arranger Bob Ezrin directing the band, which also included longtime Reed sidemen Tony “Thunder” Smith on drums, bassist Fernando Sanders and cellist Rob Wasserman. Encoring with the more recent composition “Rock Minuet” and ending with “Sweet Jane,” the music was so damn good that at one point in the show Reed actually smiled.

Joy Division is the perfect counterpoint and complement to last year’s biographical drama, Control. Between that middling narrative and this powerful new documentary, you can now learn everything you ever wanted to know about the amazing post-punk band Joy Division, its late-’70s Manchester milieu, and the sad-but-inevitable demise of lead singer/lyricist Ian Curtis. While the band only made two albums before Curtis killed himself in 1980, the story is fairly epic in its intensity and tragedy. There’s cool footage of the band, a great soundtrack and plenty of on-screen reminiscences from the other band members (who went on to form New Order), Curtis’ girlfriend (not his wife), producer Martin Hannett, fellow musician Genesis P. Orridge and others. FYI: Love really did tear them apart.

The Night James Brown Saved Boston is already airing on VH-1, but that doesn’t mean this is just another Behind The Music episode. The documentary tells the story of the Godfather Of Soul’s Boston performance in the aftermath of the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. City politics, black rage, white anxiety, overall confusion and a country whose major cities were literally burning all set the stage for this bizarre confrontation. Luckily, Brown had the courage, fortitude and cockiness to take the challenge and deliver, putting a lid on a potentially dangerous situation by staging one hell of a show. JB was at his musical and physical peak in 1968, and these performances are completely electrifying. The forthcoming DVD will have the concert film in its entirety, which will make clear to any unbeliever exactly what the fuss was all about.

Bananaz is a so-so documentary that about the Gorillaz—the virtual/cartoon rock band led by Blur’s Damon Albarn and illustrator Jamie Hewlett. Only moderately informative due to a lack of coherence (the movie, not the band), the film fails to make a compelling linear story out of the group’s sojourn. Still, there’s plenty of revealing footage of the group’s formation and evolution thanks to great access to Albarn and Co. in the studio, doing interviews, strategizing at their HQ, and performing (behind a curtain) on tour. My biggest complaint is that the director doesn’t provide enough of the band’s classic animations—but you do get to see a very fussy Albarn throw up before going on stage.

A quick mention of Dreams With Sharp Teeth is in order, and let me tell you why. It’s a documentary devoted to the renowned mystery/science-fiction writer Harlan Ellison, and it features a cool soundtrack by renowned guitarist Richard Thompson (who also provided music for Werner Herzog’s Grizzly Man). Ellison is a genius curmudgeon and a big music freak with a fantastic record collection. He also wrote some great short stories, as well as scripts for The Outer Limits and Star Trek.

The Wrecking Crew—similar to the storyline of Standing In The Shadows Of Motown—tells the tale of the studio musicians who played on countless hit records recorded in Los Angeles in the 1960s, including songs by the Byrds, the Beach Boys, numerous Phil Spector productions and many other familiar tunes. Directed in tribute by Denny Tedesco (the son of the late, great session guitarist Tommy Tedesco), this movie makes stars out of previously anonymous players Tedesco, bassists Larry Knetchel and Carole Kaye, and drummer Hal Blaine. Really, there were between 20 and 30 musicians who actually worked on the bulk of hit records in L.A. in the ’60s, and testimonials from Brian Wilson, Jimmy Webb, Cher, Roger McGuinn, Glen Campbell and others make this a worthwhile exploration into the soundtrack to our lives.

Another quick plug: Obscene is a documentary about Grove Press/Evergreen Review publisher Barney Rosset and the legal struggles over his First Amendment rights to print controversial books such as Allen Ginsberg’s Howl, Henry Miller’s Tropic Of Cancer and William S. Burroughs’ Naked Lunch. With footage of Burroughs, Lenny Bruce, Ray Manzarek, Amiri Baraka and Jim Carroll, and featuring music by Caroll, Patti Smith, Bob Dylan, the Doors, Warren Zevon and X, Obscene is anything but.

One of the more unusual music documentaries had to be Of All The Things, dedicated to now-obscure pop songwriter Dennis Lambert. Lambert made his name in the ’70s writing and producing middle-of-the-road hits for the likes of the Four Tops, Glen Campbell and Hamilton, Joe Frank & Reynolds, but the movie (directed by son Jody) focuses on Lambert’s curious popularity in the Philippines, where his forgotten and never-successful solo album from 1972 is treated like a national anthem. This results in Lambert coming out of retirement in 2007 for a quick concert tour of the country that still loves him so. I like Lambert and respect his musical abilities—even if he did co-write Starship’s “We Built This City” before he got out of the music business to sell real estate—but I can’t for the life of me understand why his solo album touches the souls of our brothers and sisters from the Philippines. It’s like a soft-rock-alternate-bizarro-universe, I swear!