December 1, 1978 marked a turning point in Toronto’s musical history. Gary Topp and Gary Cormier, who had been bringing in underground bands and nurturing those in Toronto’s own punk scene were moving on from the Horseshoe Tavern, celebrating with a couple shows. A young film-maker named Colin Brunton was on hand to document the show (and the riot it ended with!), which was subsequently turned into the rock doc classic The Last Pogo.

Now, he’s returning to those times with The Last Pogo Jumps Again, which is more than just a concert film — at three-and-a-half hours, it’s a sprawling and comprehensive history of the entire under-appreciated scene. If you’re at all interested in Toronto’s musical history or punk rock, this is absolutely essential viewing.

With the film about to get a theatrical run (November 1st through the 6th at Big Picture Cinema on Gerrard — more info here), I caught up with Brunton for a few questions.

Wavelength: When you started on the redux version, did you imagine that it would end up as awesomely sprawling as it turned out, or did you have something more modest in mind?

Colin Brunton: I wasn’t sure where it would go, but that was part of the charm. The journey rather than the destination kind of thing. Kire [Paputts , co-director/co-producer and editor] and I were happy for a long time with a six hour version.

WL: How long did you spend gathering the material? And how did you and Kire shape it?

CB: Yea, so six years. We cut scenes as we shot. We'd get leads on material and people and get sent down new rabbit holes. It's endless. And it went on like that until we just thought “We have to walk away from this. It's done.” Then we’d find something else and go back at it

WL: The new footage does a great job of telling the story and relating the character of your subjects, and the archive material is meticulously chosen — but is there any period footage that you wished you could have gotten your hands on? Who’s missing the most from the film and photos that were taken at the time?

CB: We couldn't get William Gibson (the guy who coined the phrase “cyberspace”) to talk to us. He referenced the name Screaming Fist [in Neuromancer] after the Viletones' song and said that punk made him think he could write.

We couldn't find out what happened to only one or two people. There were some recordings we couldn't get the rights to, but nothing that hurt us. And only one band we interviewed had cold feet and sent us a letter telling us they didn't want to be in the film anymore. They didn't like some of our questions, and were being stupid about music rights.

WL: One of the things that lingers with me about the film is that it’s not just a history lesson — it’s also a sort of thoughtful meditation on the passage of time. For both people and places we see changes and disappearances and lingering remnants of the past. Was all of this on your mind as you got started, or did this emerge from the process?

CB: The project started off as a bit of a lark: My son Ollie was turning 13 and I thought I’d take the summer off from work and do something fun: go see what happened to all these people from the first Last Pogo film, from ‘78. Then I met Kire, and we just started looking at it closer, and starting collecting details. And the more data and files we collected, the more we could put together a story. We would go back to some people several times over the six year period, so you got the passage of time from the late seventies, but then we could bear down a bit on just the last few years. And you kinda realize that people don't really change.

WL: It’s also a story about people who were “outside the mainstream” (whatever that means) finding a function and a community. And while some people that you re-visited have gone straight, as it were, many are still living on their own terms.

CB: Like I said, you find out that people don't really change. Members of bands that really had their shit together — they've still got their shit together. Bands that crashed and burned — there's some sad tales of those as well. The interesting thing is that almost everyone we talked to really loved that period in their lives. I think it was a combination of being in your early twenties, but also being part of a real movement that was exciting, and creatively liberating.

WL: Was there something specific about Toronto in the late 70’s that gave these bands something to react against? In my imagination the city was more of a buttoned-down, Protestant-work-ethic, can’t-buy-a-drink sort of place. “Toronto the Good”, as it were.

CB: 1976 was a big turning point for Toronto: the CN Tower was completed, the Toronto Blue Jays were starting, the Toronto International Film Festival started. Book City started. And while there were all these bands doing covers on week-long gigs at the Gasworks — and frankly, some great shows by bands like Max Webster and Goddo — it was getting tired. You couldn't buy a beer on a Sunday without buying food, but you could go to Yonge Street and get a blowjob at a rub 'n' tug. So while it was very Presbyterian and straight-laced and small-town, there was this new group of like-minded people who wanted something new.

WL: Have you read Daniel Jones’ novel 1978? Is that a fair reflection of the time?

CB: Yea, he captured his experience really well.

WL: How quickly did “the scene” change on the ground? The Last Pogo (the concert itself) marked a sort of end-of-an-era, but obviously things were still moving in all sorts of directions. But was there a feeling by the end of ‘78 (because of, say, scene politics, junk, nouveau arrivistes, etc) that the glory days were already fading?

CB: It brewed for years, and kicked in with the Ramones first show in '76. Things were always moving in a different directions; one of the best things about those times was how many different sounds there were, how diverse it was, how inspiring. But you can only peak for so long: by the end of '78, there were all these other bands starting up. It did seem like that even though the bloom was off the rose, it was still big fun. But the opening chapter was over.

By the end of '78 The Horseshoe was closing, and it was sad because it was such a great place, and run by The Garys it was just non-stop, seven nights a week amazing entertainment. So when The Last Pogo happened there in December 1978, there was this feeling that, yea, something's over. But of course The Garys continued on with The Edge, and arguably booked even better line-ups.

WL: One thing that was revelatory for me on seeing the film was hearing about the second wave of bands after the original punks, groups like The Government and Swollen Members. Time has brought some more retrospective appreciation to the first generation of bands like Simply Saucer and The Viletones, but I don’t think that early New Wave moment has gotten its due.

CB: That was the frustration, that nobody got recognized. I've found that the thing that surprises younger people when they see the film is that a lot of people have this idea that punk was all fast and loud and black leather, but in Toronto, it was a lot more eclectic.

And Toronto and Canada has this infuriating inferiority complex: we eat our young. People in Toronto — especially when it started to become more popular — would flock to see anyone from NYC or England, but took the locals for granted.

The Scenics, for one, befriended Talking Heads, and when they hooked up a year or two after they did a date together in 1977 at The New Yorker, Chris and Tina from Talking Heads were astonished that The Scenics hadn't "made it."

WL: And otherwise, what bands still don’t get talked about enough? I mean, my jaw dropped a bit the first time I heard “Shoeshine Boy” by The Curse or the stuff on The Ugly compilation, but they’re still not super well-known.

CB: Well, you'll have to go see the film again Joe! There's over fifty songs in the movie, and I don't think there's one lame one.

WL: It’s great that the movie is getting a theatrical run. Where does it go from here? Will we be seeing some more material from that six-hour cut on the DVD?

CB: We've got great "Extra Features" for the DVD: interviews with Tommy Ramone, Andy Shernoff, Hugh Cornwall, Andy Summers, new comics by Brick Trembles... loads of stuff. We'll start working on the DVD once we're done with theatrical dates. Probably 2014.

WL: Is it a little weird for you to be looking back to your younger days as history? Especially where a lot of the subjects are still around? I heard that at your initial screenings people who had been there at the time were still arguing with and talking back to the subjects on the screen.

CB: The cast and crew screening we had at The Big Picture Cinema last December was crazy: people were yelling at people on the screen, people were telling each other to fuck off in the audience, people were talking back to the screen. It was either the best or the worst screening I've ever attended.

WL: There’s a lot of reasons to look at the period here as something special. But do you ever feel that it’s so meaningful for you because, well, you were younger then, and you were present and in the moment? Same question, asked a different way: is there any reason to think that people who are now that age that you were then and are engaged with the immense depth of excellent local bands are somehow missing out? Being in a “historical moment” gets more prestige than just being in the moment.

CB: Great question. Yea, I wondered “Was this time really that cool — or was it because I was 21? Is everything cool when you’re 21?” so it was a lot of just being young and fearless — but 1976 really was special, historically and culturally. I hope kids these days are having as much fun as we did.

WL: Thanks for your time!

The Last Pogo Jumps Again screens from November 1 until November 6 at Big Picture Cinema (1035 Gerrard St East).