Photo: Sigmund Snopek - Facebook
Sigmund Snopek 2017
Sigmund Snopek III
Sigmund Snopek III is the old growth tree of Milwaukee music, an ancient redwood with numerous concentric rings of growth … Scratch that—too linear. How about Snopek as an incredibly eclectic Milwaukee musician whose imagination and talent has always moved in many directions on multiple platforms. Making sense of his life in music is head spinning.
Just ask Nick Toti. Five years ago, the filmmaker set out to make a documentary on Snopek, a conventional 90-minute bio punctuated by the comments of relevant talking heads. It turned instead into a seven-part series, still an evolving work in progress. Milwaukeeans can get a peek at episode one at a free screening, 6 p.m., July 10 at Linnemann’s Riverwest Inn.
Based at different times in Austin and LA, Toti (The Complete History of Seattle) knew nothing of Milwaukee aside from Jeffrey Dahmer before diving into the project. The spark came from reading Bob Mielke’s 2013 book Adventures in Avant Pop, a massive tome with essays on artists such as Yoko Ono, Frank Zappa, Sun Ra … and Sigmund Snopek. “The chapter on Snopek is the last chapter, and, significantly, it's the only chapter about an artist who is not a well-known cultural figure,” Toti says.
Intriguing, but …? “This is where the story gets a bit mystical,” Toti continues. “I have this thing happen sometimes where I will encounter a story or situation and some kind of alarm goes off in my head. It's not a literal sound, but it almost feels like one, like an irritating internal buzzing. It’s the feeling I get when I am absolutely certain that the story or situation that I’m encountering is something that I should make into a movie … Reading Bob’s chapter on Sigmund gave me that unmistakable feeling. I knew there was potential for a good movie here, and I knew that I had the resources to pull it off without needing anyone’s permission or financing to do it.”
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And so, in the spring of 2018, Toti journeyed to Milwaukee, shooting B-roll of the city’s snow-edged streets and encountering the mysterious Mr. Snopek. There he is, bundled up for the weather on an East Side corner, his long alpine horn resting on the pavement. As a crowd of adolescent schoolgirls gather round, he blows his horn and leads them in a chorus of the Ricola cough drop jingle.
Toti discovered that Snopek has a sense of humor. Little wonder Jay Leno was among the talking heads gathered by the director. The comedian calls Snopek “an artist.” Leno? “Summerfest used to have a Comedy Stage that Sigmund helped manage back in the late ‘70s-early ‘80s. His band would play before some of the comedy acts, so he got to know a bunch of popular comedians from that time,” Toti explains. “Jay Leno was a name that kept coming up, so I reached out to his people to ask if he really knew Sigmund. That same day, I got a phone call from Leno and he pretty much said, ‘Sigmund Snopek! I haven't heard that name in years!’ and then talked about how much he liked Sigmund back in the day.”
Among the more expected interviewees are Violent Femmes Brian Ritchie and Victor DeLorenzo. Snopek played keyboards on the band’s recording sessions and world tours in the ‘80s. DeLorenzo also knew Snopek from his involvement in the ‘70s with Theatre X. Snopek composed music for one of their groundbreaking productions. “We’re all die-hard eccentrics,” DeLorenzo says.
Acute Observation
Ritchie provides an astute observation, saying that Snopek contains “many great contradictions.” Classically trained as a pianist and composer, Snopek told Ritchie that he made the decision to go into pop “because in classical music they expect you to be on time. He made major decisions based on minor factors.”
And yet he didn’t reject classical music for pop as much as try to do it all—on his own schedule. A telling scene in Toti’s film shows Snopek in a recording studio, drifting from pump organ to piano, sliding between “Daydream Believer,” “Strawberry Fields Forever” and Bach. Inspired by John Cage and Edgard Varèse yet grounded in 19th century traditions while drawn to rock’s exuberance and pop’s accessibility, Snopek’s diverse catalog includes symphonies, rock operas, rock songs and novelties. He can be compared to Frank Zappa—although it’s unlikely that Zappa ever sang a polka (or Snopek sang doowop). Zappa latched on to an international career while Snopek, after his late ‘60s psychedelic band Bloomsbury People was dropped by MGM, didn’t seem to bother with big labels but pursued symphonic commissions while releasing his own albums, DIY before punk coined the acronym.
Getting back to Ritchie: Was staying in Milwaukee a “major decision based on minor factors”? Toti grabs a quote from John Gurda, explaining the city’s allure for many residents as “a blend of large and small,” “global yet manageable,” “Midwest friendly.”
But unlike some heartland cities, Milwaukee’s cultural roots are deep enough for an ambitious composer-musician to find work as varied as the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra and Summerfest. Snopek never reveals why he stayed on in Milwaukee—at least not in episode one—but back in the ’70s he set a precedent for local artists by amassing a body of creative work, a career in original music, in a city far from the national media spotlight. Toti shows Snopek in the studio of Riverwest Radio, where he hosts a weekly show dedicated to playing tapes (in the process of digitalization) covering more than 50 years of work.
Has Toti drawn any conclusions about Snopek?
“He's dedicated his life to creating music and contributing to the culture of the city where he lives,” Toti says. “He could have pursued fame, but I've found evidence from fairly early in his career suggesting that this was never his goal. I think that’s why I’m drawn to his story. Fame seems like a curse to me, but we’ve collectively decided that it’s some great thing and that it’s perfectly sane for everyone to want to be famous. Sigmund’s story presents a counter-narrative that I find useful. He hasn’t pursued fame per se, but he has consistently pursued opportunities to share his work. He’s demonstrated that, over time, it’s possible to amass a body of work that is rich and interesting (and seemingly limitless—there’s still stuff of his that I haven’t been able to track down) without worrying about trends or hipness or whatever the larger culture industry is invested in at any given moment.
“But that type of career also requires work—endless, unromantic, and often unrewarding work,” Toti continues. “I don’t think Sigmund has had a particularly easy life, and I don’t think he has any plans to retire, even though he is now in his 70s. Is that an enviable life or a pitiable one? Is he a success or a failure? Do these questions need answers or is there value in just taking the time to scrutinize some of the underlying assumptions permeating the culture?”
