After playing with our expectations, this turns out to be a very different sort of film.

I didn’t really have many expectations going into the movie (good or bad), but I actually really enjoyed it. I really liked the characters and the banter between them.

Close shines in drama with strong language, adult themes.

This movie tries so hard to be funny, yet it falls flat every time. Just another example of recycled ideas repackaged with women in an attempt to appeal to a certain audience.

Every one has a place in this world, their reason d'etre. Some folks take years to find theirs and some never do. The happiest folks are the ones who've found their place early on and have arrived at a time where they can look back and appreciate what they've done. This short documentary is about a man who found his slice of life and is able to share and enjoy with all who will listen. That makes for an uplifting tale that's all sweetness and empty calories. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the snack but long for a more complete meal. The film portrays one side of a very simple man and yet I walked away from this film caring more about the music then I did about the man who collected it.

The best part of this documentary was when Joe Bussard was asked what he thought of rock music. He described it as a cancer which has destroyed all of American music since its inception. When you think about it, he's probably right.As he says, it's music played by idiots who can't even play their instruments well, have to use electronic gimmickry to hide their incompetence, have no knowledge of the music of the past, and was meant to appeal to immature children.This is coming from Bussard's viewpoint as a musician. He demonstrates that he can play the guitar, as well as the mandolin and banjo, very well.Today, rock music is used on every commercial on TV to push any type of product you can imagine.All types of rock are used- Punk, New Wave, Hard Rock, etc... ad infinitum.The fact that Bussard collects music of the 20s and 30s (and some blues and country up to the 50s) is part of his effort to preserve non-commercial American music and make it available for people to appreciate.He does this by playing his 78s on his radio show and offering to make cassette tapes of his rare records for a few dollars.Bussard was a "trust fund baby" and has never had a steady job, so he has been able to spend all of his 78 years hunting for the American music described above.The film shows him going on some record hunts and listening to his favorite records in his basement of 25,000 rare records.It could have been more informative by interviewing some musicologists (although Bussard has nothing but disdain for them)and people in the present or past record business to make it a little more rounded a viewpoint, but the director didn't seem interested in that aspect of the subject.On a completely unrelated aspect of this film- does anyone know what breed Bussard's dog was? He looked a lot like mine, a Briquet Griffon Vendeen.

There's just something compelling about an *absolute* enthusiast - the evangelistic zeal of the ardent collector; the passionate desire to sweep you into their world, the energy - the ability to minimise everything else in their world outside of the frame of that particular passion.Joe Bussard is from Maryland and he's a collector of music. A very particular and rare kind of music. "Real" American music, when it was literally taken off the street and recorded in tin-can microphones; one take, real-time, in tin-pan alley "studios" (makeshift rooms with a microphone and a "reccud-burnin' machine") in and around the 1920's - 30's mostly.This was the music of real people, playing from life itself, recorded in all its raw originality, creativity and genius. This is the music of a people - a history in song and music. Who's preserved it? Not the Smithsonian, not the Library of Congress... but one Joe Bussard, clutching a record to his chest saying "I think I'll take this one with me when I'm buried... then they'll have to dig me up 20 years later to get the record."This is a film about passion and love and nascent intelligence and respect.There's Joe, interminable cigar in hand, slapping his hands across a permanently jiggling thigh - face as radiant and rapturous as if all his angels were dancing around him, caressing and cleaning his records, twiddling a dial here, a lever there to produce *just* the right sound. Here's Joe - driving the miles on the slimmest chance of gaining another rare find - or teasing the camera crew because they *missed* filming his greatest score in the past 10 years.The portrait gently builds, without commentary or cynicism, of an individual who's moved literally to his own beat for the course of his life. Quietly, gently, unobtrusively, clues are given about his own, remarkable, hand-crafted life; but through it all - the music prevails - as the central character in Joe's life, and as an able-bodied character of this film.Desperate Man Blues is about passion, and authenticity and generosity. It's a short film with a long message - find out what counts and love it, love it, love it.Its style is non-intrusive, engaging and intimate. Joe and his beloved music are the stars of the show, and without the interruption of narrative, the passion is laid out so simply that we're all invited into Joe's basement, tapping our feet, feeling the rhythms, and seduced by our record spinner's rapt involvement.The archival footage grounds us visually in the musical world being built around our ears. This music is aural history - music before the `cancer of rock' spread its homogenous fingers over our world. (Joe's words, or at least a paraphrase of them.) This is 52 minutes of joy. 52 minutes of love. 52 minutes of passion. 52 minutes that expresses an ephemeral time of (mostly) unrecorded social history. It was 52 of the happiest minutes I've enjoyed in front of a screen.