Pure power pop for now people, the Spectacles played an energetic matinee set at the Quarry House. The band is Chuck Dolan (bass/vocals), JP McDermott (guitar/vocals), and John Kelly (drums/background vocals).

I really like this idea of weekend matinee rock shows. Maybe with a Senior Discount?

This was shot, as usual, with my handy Canon A590. Why did I buy that big video camera?

You know I’m a sucker for a medley.

And I was in luck when I caught Accidental Charm’s show at the Music Cafe in Damascus, Md. It’s a charming place, if a bit of a haul — especially in a downpour like this Friday night.

The evening was a mix of originals and covers, the originals being delightfully poppy and the covers being surprisingly diverse. Each of the four guys sing, which is rare, and rarer still the harmonies are sweet. The band dared a cover of CSN’s “Carry On” and it sounded better than the originals have managed to perform it since about 1974.

The band also dared to perform a couple medleys, not always the “cool” choice. But it worked this night. For instance, the group’s instrumental “See-Ya-Later-Bye,” is snappy enough, but then it segued into an extended and utterly unexpected medley — including several tunes so unexpected that I can’t recall them now. But part of the medley was a song I never expected to hear live: the Albert Hammond soft-rock anthem “It Never Rains In Southern California.” So random. And then it was back into “See Ya Later,” then into “Live & Let Die,” a bit of “Bohemian Rhapsody,” and finally Cheap Trick’s “Dream Police,” before finishing with the instrumental. A bravura performance. Jolly.

The group is Tom Godsman (guitar,vocals), Rob Isele (guitar, keyboards, vocals), Jack Albert (bass, guitar, vocals), and Brad Davis (drums, vocals). Sadly, this was probably Rob’s last show with the band. He’s concentrating all his musical efforts on his money-making Beach Boys tribute band, Still Surfin’. While we wish him success, we must insist that Accidental Charm not break up. America demands good pop bands. (It’s all we have left.)

Here’s “It Never Rains,” in case you had banished it from your ears. (Later, the band also played a straight-faced cover of “Treat Her Like a Lady” by Cornelius Brothers & Sister Rose. Don’t hear that very often, either. Here’s the group’s own video of the song, which is much better than my guerilla clip.)

UPDATE/CORRECTION: Tom Godsman writes in to point out that the medley “was actually part of ‘Who Made the Rules?,’ but I think we played it pretty close in the set list to ‘See-ya-later-bye,’ so it’s an honest mistake.” We honestly regret the error.

Went to see the British Walkers reunion at Winston Billiards Cafe in Rockville on Saturday. For those who missed the British Walkers phenomenon the first time around in 1965 — and I missed them, too — they were a D.C.-area band that wore Redcoat-style outfits, spoke with British accents, and played Beatle songs, Beatle-type songs, and generally did a bang-up job of cashing in on the whole Beatle thing. Though I never witnessed the magic first-hand, I’d heard the band name and that of its charismatic leader Bobbie Howard whispered reverently often enough over the years. After all, Roy Buchanan was the band’s first guitarist.

So I don’t know what I was expecting — perhaps the Redcoat suits? At the least, I was hoping for some Beatle-y teen-club nostalgia.

What I got was the worst double-bill since Hendrix opened for the Monkees.

For some reason, Joe Lee, mastermind of the event, booked an opening act, the Mustangs, an 11-piece soul band, complete with horn section and four lead singers. Some of the group were part of Wilson Pickett’s last band. And, damn. They totally rocked the joint. Opening with a Sly & the Family Stone medley, the group perfectly captured the Staple Singers, Etta James, and James Brown, and gave the terms “bar band” and “cover band” a bright sheen of respect.

The crowd — not surprisingly, mostly aging white folks — screamed for an encore, which the Mustangs were happy to play.

The only way the Walkers could have followed that was if they were the actual Beatles. And even then, I’m not sure.

It did not help that after the Mustangs cleared the stage there followed an interminable amount of tuning up and microphone feedback. Hello, sound engineer: you just had 11 musicians onstage, now you’ve got five. Remove six mics and don’t screw with anything else. Hello, band: Tune up offstage. They make portable tuners for just this purpose. Buy some.

Howard is now 67 and he still has the mod hair and looks sharp in a Carnaby Street suit. But, unlike the stylishly-attired Mustangs, the other Walkers opted for a mishmash of jeans, ball-caps, and whatever Elvis-meets-David Byrne outfit Billy Hancock was wearing.

And what was Hancock doing onstage anyway? He was never a member of the band. Though everyone else onstage had, at one time, been a member of the British Walkers, this particular lineup never existed. Guitarist Geoff Richardson never played with Bobbie, according to Hancock’s liner notes to the reissue CD. (OK, that might explain why he was there.)

The band started with a cover of Sam Cooke’s “Shake,” also one of its local-but-not-quite-national hits. And right away it seemed that the British Invasion legend was more myth than reality. As Joe Lee told the Post’s John Kelly, “The band was as much a rhythm-and-blues group as a rock group….They looked like a bunch of guys from England, but they listened to all the same soul stations as I did in the ’60s.”

Howard said after the third song (”Knock on Wood”) that his voice couldn’t handle an entire night of singing anymore and introduced Hancock, who launched into one of his usual rockabilly songs. And I felt whatever good will I’d come with evaporate. I can see the Billy Hancock show any time. Plus, I just felt embarrassed for the band.

I left while Kelly, the nicest man alive, frugged valiantly on the dance floor, doing his part, at least, to keep that ’60s magic alive.

You be the judge: Here’s the British Walkers, followed by the Mustangs.

The list of the 122 films that screened during Silverdocs week. I need some sleep…

As we all know, Hollywood destroys America every week. But one movie also wreaked havoc in the tiny, obscure Romanian town of Glod. Sacha Baron Cohen used the place (whose name aptly translates as “mud”) as a stand-in for Kazakhstan in Borat: Cultural Learnings, etc., etc., and notably depicted its residents as whores, thieves, and rapists.

By chance, filmmaker Mercedes Stalenhoef was on holiday in Romania before the Borat crew arrived, and had been documenting the life of a charismatic 17-year-old girl with dreams of escaping to the good life in Spain. When Stalenhoef returned, post-Borat, it was to a pissed-off town, about to be pissed on again — this time by unbelievably insufferable American lawyers, who dangled empty promises of fortunes to be had by suing 20th Century Fox.

Carmen Meets Borat is both a fascinating portrait of Gypsy (or Roma, if you prefer) life on the edges and also manages to turn the image of comedian Cohen in his Borat costume into a villainous figure, up there with Lex Luthor and Montgomery Burns.

I sat down with Stalenhoef at her hotel for a chat about her film and how chance is the documentarian’s constant companion.

Thanks to Jeff Krulik for alerting me to Brian Lui’s video of Marion Barry getting down to the go-go at the after-party at Jackie’s following the premier of The Nine Lives of Marion Barry. (Can I get more bold-faced in one sentence?)

In between screenings of Best Worst Movie and Winnebago Man, I ran into the man who was protesting Marion Barry’s arrival at Silverdocs. Turns out to be another Silverdocs filmmaker, Dean Hamer, the director of Out in the Silence.

Mr. Hamer was vigorously yelling “Shame! Shame!” as Barry walked among the crowd, and here he explains his reasons — and also gives Silverdocs some knocks for allowing Barry “to be treated like a rock star.” We also discuss the historic uses of shame.

Thanks, again, to the Canon Powershot A590. I may just sell the big, pro Panasonic.

Marion Barry arrived at the AFI Silver Theater for the world premier of The Nine Lives of Marion Barry, which closes the festival. Typically, emotions were stirred. After some limo-exiting negotiations, Barry emerged looking fit and trim and proceeded to walk away from the theater and down the block, past the long line of folks waiting in the stand-by line for the sold-out show. A festival source told me that Hizzoner had “30 people” in the line.

Good foresight. As soon as Barry’s foot hit Colesville Road, several people (at least one wearing the promotional Silverdocs tote bag) began chanting “Shame! Shame!” and variations on that theme. They were countered by a few cheers and applause and one woman who bird-dogged the Shamers with her “Marion! Marion!” song.

Barry seemed oblivious to the contretemps, basking, once more, in the attention as he headed around the corner toward…Panera Bread?

Shot, again, with my trusty Canon Powershot A5990. I am officially entering this video in next year’s Silverdocs.

A woman at the screening of Cat Ladies called it “the saddest film I’ve ever seen.” I kind of agree, but don’t think that’s a bad thing. The film is utterly riveting, going deep into the daily lives of four Toronto women who live with from three to more than 140 cats. The film has stayed with me for days.

Director Christie Callan-Jones and producer Jeannette Loakman are, understandably, not rushing to add that quote to the poster. We spoke with both women about their film, which I’m predicting will be one of the hits of the fest. First, Callan-Jones discusses how and why she made the film, and what is the dang deal with these women anyway?

And Loakman discusses the film’s very clever marketing ploy: giving away a series of Cat Lady buttons, each with a different image. Thus, like any true cat lady, you must collect them all.

One reason I like Silverdocs is that almost anybody you talk with will have an interesting story and be articulate about telling it.

Provo, Utah’s Christian Jensen stopped by the Festival Hub to check his e-mail (free wifi!), and I quickly learned that he’s just out of film school and has a doc-in-progress, Peace Players, which concerns a group of Palestinian and Israeli kids who come together through sports. He came to Silverdocs on his own dime to learn how the film game is played.

Here he discusses his doc-in-progress, why it’s important for unproduced producers to attend Silverdocs, and Utah’s unsung film industry. While he’s often attended his hometown festival (something called Sundance), Jensen said that he prefers Silverdocs’ more serious-minded atmosphere.

The video is about four-and-a-half minutes, shot — again — with my Canon Powershot A590. (Come on, Canon — can I get some love here?)