At the Lumiere Cinema at the Music Hall in Beverly Hills where Art Dealers, the 80-minute Low Cut Connie documentary/concert film is being shown, you can’t slip past the group’s frontman, Adam Weiner. This is the last theatrical screening of Art Dealers before it becomes widely available on demand on October 1 and Weiner’s energy fills the narrow theatre lobby. He interacts with every person that walks through the door and makes sure they are invited to hang out at the party in this same location after the film.
Directed by Weiner and Roy Power, Art Dealers is the visual counterpart to the Low Cut Connie album of the same name that was released September 2023. Filming for what eventually became Art Dealers began in 2017 but was halted during the pandemic. “Not only did we stop the project, but we forgot we ever did it,” says Weiner the next day when he meets me at The Alcove Cafe and Bakery in Los Angeles’ Los Feliz neighborhood for a late afternoon iced coffee and gluten-free pastry which he declares is, “The best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
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Weiner is less sweaty than when he performs, but in a white corduroy jacket and a George Michael T-shirt whose screen-printed outline is crumbling, there is still a performer air about him. After the film the night before, Weiner serenaded the audience on acoustic guitar, walking around and singing within a couple of feet of each person. He is a natural entertainer, unselfconscious and, at times, unhinged. At the peak of a Low Cut Connie show, Weiner transforms into someone else, or rather, to his truest self. He could take a running leap onto his piano or climb to the rafters of a venue. His signature white tank tops invariably rip—although Weiner never remembers how. He is a man possessed and it’s a sight to behold.
The synergy Weiner has with his fans is beyond a simple connection. What happens is not unlike an evangelical preacher faith healing their congregation—an odd metaphor, granted, considering Weiner is outspoken about being Jewish. The impact he has on his crowd is not lost on Weiner, which is why he resumed filming Art Dealers.
“We’ve made a bunch of records that were well received, but our show is what we’re known for,” he says. “There’s so little footage out there. It’s all word of mouth. What if I built this whole thing for the last decade that the people who were there knew about, but if you weren’t there, you missed it because there was no document of it? I was obsessed with making a document that lived up to people’s reactions to our shows.”
Sony approached Weiner about participating in a commercial for their newly acquired venue in New York, Sony Hall, which included a Low Cut Connie concert. Weiner agreed, in exchange for the footage, which makes up a significant chunk of Art Dealers. The concert is expertly intercut with material from their two nights at the Blue Note Jazz Club last fall, and a few snippets from other shows. There is live photography, backstage material, on-the-road clips including a butt shot of Weiner changing clothes in a parking lot. We see him with fans, sweaty and hairy, sometimes in a towel turban. No matter how exhausted or inopportune a moment, he gives fans all his attention.
Art Dealers is strung together with an extended interview with Weiner, shot at a diner—the kind of place he and his band frequent while on the road. A collection of square pegs much like Weiner, each member of Low Cut Connie’s live band gets the lens turned on them, and a true picture of this ragtag bunch of excellent musicians who are very real people is revealed.
“People have a glamorous vision of what artists do and the lives we live,” says Weiner. “These films you’re seeing: Beyoncé, Gaga, Taylor Swift, there’s so many. Some of them are very good, but they’re all the absolute tippy top of the industry. When they say it’s a peek behind the curtain, it’s a very manicured look. These images we get of the music business are exhausting. We glorify that to such a degree.
“I wanted to show the reality of it, especially in terms of how we are a working-class band. My drummer is a burger cook in a bar and delivers pizzas. My girls, one works in a coffee shop, the other makes organic soap in a factory. That probably won’t change. Because we’re in Philadelphia, there is no other gig for these guys. They work with me about 100 days a year, which is a good gig, but it’s not a great gig in terms of pay and stability.”
This is not at all what comes across when watching the performances in Art Dealers, which accurately convey the intensity, and no holds barred commitment each person on stage has to the show. Low Cut Connie are at club and theatre status, which Weiner says is likely where they’ll stay, but, as he says, “We crush at this level.”
“I’m an artist that’s afraid to peak artistically and professionally,” he admits. “If I have a moment, it might change my life, but I also might begin the descent, which I’ve seen over and over. I’ve been lucky that people have received my music very well over the last bunch of years. But I’ve never had one album or one song really blow up—and I’m absolutely okay with that. I’m much more about consistently being good than having a hit.”
Low Cut Connie’s first-ever live album Connie Live, releases Nov. 1.
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