The title announces what turns out to be a constant refrain: the difficulty of the L.A. punk group, X, in getting themselves heard through normal commercial channels. How great a loss this is to American culture is -- on the evidence -- open to debate. But their movie is amiable enough -- whenever they are not singing, anyway. Their various living quarters -- each one a slob's paradise -- are full of "found objects" from the fields of American pop, camp, kitsch, and vicinities (and the filmmaker, W.T. Morgan, splices in similar findings from cinematic vaults), and these are often fascinating in their own right. And the band members themselves, especially the incongruously wholesome Billy Zoom, are far from frightful. (1986) — Duncan Shepherd
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