10 Great Music Films you may not have seen (and they're free on YouTube)

After reading my colleagues new book on Music Films, I was inspired to check out several films that are under seen and freely available on YouTube.

It the latest episode of the Cinematologists Podcast, I discussed my with my co-host Professor Neil Fox, his recently released book Music Films: Documentaries, Concert Films and other Cinematic Representations of Popular Music. Being my friend and long time collaborator I was obviously predisposed to be sympathetic towards the book. But I honestly loved the in-depth yet accessible style, with a passionate voice and coherent balance between wider contextualisation of the genre, and specific analysis of certain films.

You can listen to the latest episode of The Cinematologists Podcast where we discuss many areas, including the validity of music films in modern culture, the messiness of the genre, and the importance of representation, particularly regarding black artists and women in music. We also examine the ethical implications of music documentaries and the power dynamics at play in the portrayal of artists.

Listen on Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts:

Perhaps the best aspect of the work is its propensity to inspire one to seek out films that you might not have seen or even heard of, often featuring little known artists. Neil told me that this was a core aim of the book, underpinned by what he terms “advocacy criticism”, to shine a light on these under seen, under appreciated works. Particularly those that authentically reflect, through elements of film style, structure and cultural politics, some essence of what the singer, musician or band stands for.

With this in mind I’ve compiled a list of 10 films you might want to watch, (a) because they are great, (b) because they are aesthetically resonant with the artist they represent, and (c) they are freely available on YouTube.

1. Lonely Boy (dir. Roman Kroitor and Wolf Koenig, 1962)
   With Lonely Boy, Roman Kroitor and Wolf Koenig delve into the nascent world of pop celebrity, focusing on Paul Anka at the height of his teen-idol fame. Far from a puff piece, this vérité documentary dissects the machinery of stardom and the pressures placed on a young man who must perform not just for his audience but for the relentless demands of the industry. The filmmakers capture Anka’s charm but also his unease, creating an unexpectedly meditative portrait of a star both exalted and trapped by the adoration of his fans. The film’s brief runtime belies its complexity, offering a subtle critique of the early mechanics of the pop music machine, while also gesturing toward the loneliness that often accompanies public adulation. Watch Here.

2. Don't Look Back (dir. D. A. Pennebaker, 1967)
   O.K. So this is an example that you may well have seen. D. A. Pennebaker’s Don’t Look Back remains one of the most iconic music documentaries ever made, a seminal work in both the direct cinema movement and in capturing the elusive figure of Bob Dylan at a pivotal moment in his career. The film’s fly-on-the-wall approach allows the viewer an intimate, often uncomfortable glimpse into Dylan’s transition from folk hero to rock provocateur during his 1965 UK tour. Pennebaker’s camera lingers on Dylan as he jousts with journalists, toys with his peers, and veers between playfulness and cruelty, all while the weight of his celebrity grows increasingly palpable. There’s an electric tension running through Don’t Look Back, a sense that Dylan is both performing for the camera and defiantly rejecting its presence. The result is a portrait of an artist in flux, as enigmatic and impenetrable as the music he was creating at the time. Watch Here.

   From the book: In the final moments, Dylan performs ‘Love Minus Zero/ No Limit’ and he is shot from high above, a single spotlight picking him out on the stage. The camera tracks back revealing him isolated in lights before, as applause rang out, the camera swings up to the lights in the rafters. His performance is incredible, the crowd invisible, in rapt silence until the climatic explosion of adulation. Then Dylan is in the car, banging on the window and shouting “go drive ago”! He wants away from the fans and press who don't get it, who can't see what Pennebaker's camera has captured: the stubborn, brilliant performance. He is laughing, though.

3. In Bed with Madonna (dir. Alek Keshishian, 1991)
   Alek Keshishian’s In Bed with Madonna (also known as Truth or Dare) broke new ground for the music documentary genre, blending the confessional intimacy of cinéma vérité with the spectacle of Madonna’s Blond Ambition tour. What sets it apart is its unabashed focus on the pop icon’s private life, capturing her candidly as she confronts everything from love to fame to creative control. The film’s legacy is far-reaching, serving as a blueprint for the pop-star-as-confessional-figure model that has since shaped documentaries about artists like Lady Gaga and Taylor Swift. Both Gaga: Five Foot Two and Miss Americana borrow heavily from Madonna’s strategy of blurring the lines between vulnerability and myth-making. These later films echo In Bed with Madonna in their use of the documentary form to shape their public personas, offering controlled glimpses of their “real” selves while reinforcing their artistic and emotional narratives. In Madonna’s hands, the documentary became a performance in itself, a strategy of self-revelation that continues to influence pop documentaries, where the personal is inextricable from the spectacle. Watch Here.

4. Stepping Razor: Red X (dir. Nicholas Campbell, 1992)
   Nicholas Campbell’s Stepping Razor: Red X is a searing portrait of Peter Tosh, the fiery and uncompromising Wailer who often stood in Bob Marley’s shadow but was no less influential in shaping the political consciousness of reggae music. The film weaves together archival footage, interviews, and Tosh’s own words, drawn from diaries he kept in the lead-up to his tragic and unsolved murder. What emerges is a study in contrasts: Tosh as both prophet and pariah, a man whose radical, anti-colonial politics and militant stance on marijuana legalisation made him a divisive figure in Jamaica and beyond. Campbell refuses to canonise Tosh, presenting instead a complex figure whose life was marked as much by personal demons as by his unyielding dedication to truth. In doing so, Stepping Razor: Red X transcends the biographical genre, becoming an indictment of the forces that would eventually silence one of reggae’s most defiant voices. Watch Here.

5. The Last Angel of History (dir. John Akomfrah, 1996)
   My own favourite on this list. John Akomfrah’s The Last Angel of History is a dizzying intersection of science fiction, African diasporic identity, and music history, straddling the genre of the speculative documentary with remarkable flair. At its core, it interrogates the legacy of Afrofuturism, particularly through the music of George Clinton, Sun Ra, and the mythic figure of the "Data Thief," whose journey serves as a metaphor for the Black diasporic experience. Akomfrah weaves together interviews with cultural luminaries like DJ Spooky and Octavia Butler, using music as a cipher for wider meditations on memory, displacement, and the future. It’s a haunting and thoughtful piece that requires—and rewards—repeated viewing, a film where the haunting pulse of sound is inseparable from the profound questions of cultural belonging and alienation. Watch here.

6. The Filth and the Fury (dir. Julien Temple, 2000)
   In The Filth and the Fury, Julien Temple revisits the story of the Sex Pistols with the raw energy and anarchic spirit that defined the band. The film serves as both a chronicle and a reappraisal, distancing itself from the cartoonish image of punk that popular culture often perpetuates. Temple’s use of archival footage, much of it from his earlier collaboration with the band on The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle, is masterful, juxtaposed with contemporary interviews that reveal the human toll of the Pistols’ brief, chaotic reign. What emerges is a film that doesn’t merely recount the band’s rise and fall but frames punk as a necessary response to the economic and political crises of the time. There’s a melancholic undercurrent too, a recognition that the youthful rage that animated punk was always bound to burn out, leaving behind only the filth, and the fury. Watch here.

   From the book: The film reframed Sid's life and personality. It is not a simple glossing over of his troubles or flaws but a definite reclamation of him as a complex personality, that complexity having been robbed from him as he has become a symbolic figure, devoid of layers. Archive footage of archive footage of sit in a park, desperate, seeking a way out of his situation, aware he had already become a symbol, a cypher, is met with Lydon’s tears as he recounts his friends fall into addiction and death.

7. We Jam Econo: The Story of the Minutemen (dir. Tim Irwin, 2005)
   We Jam Econo is a love letter to the DIY ethos, capturing the spirit of the Minutemen, one of punk’s most idiosyncratic and inventive bands. Tim Irwin’s documentary is as spare and no-nonsense as its subjects, celebrating the band’s defiant rejection of rock-star excess and their embrace of a pared-down, improvisational sound. The film tracks their rise from the working-class punk scene of San Pedro to their tragic disbandment following the untimely death of guitarist D. Boon. What sets this film apart is its profound focus on the camaraderie between Boon, bassist Mike Watt, and drummer George Hurley. It’s as much a story of friendship as it is of music, a poignant reminder that sometimes the most revolutionary acts come from those who simply refuse to play by the rules. Watch Here.

8. Our Hobby is Depeche Mode (dirs. Jeremy Deller and Nicholas Abrahams, 2007)
   Jeremy Deller and Nicholas Abrahams’ Our Hobby is Depeche Mode is less a conventional music documentary and more an exploration of fandom as a phenomenon. Rather than focusing on the band themselves, the film trains its gaze on the passionate global community of Depeche Mode devotees, stretching from suburban England to the industrial towns of Eastern Europe. What could have been a lighthearted exploration of obsession quickly becomes something deeper, as Deller and Abrahams reveal how Depeche Mode’s music provides not just a soundtrack but a lifeline for fans navigating the complexities of post-industrial decline, political oppression, and personal alienation. It’s a film about connection—between fans, between the music and their lives—that captures the transcendent power of music to create communities across borders. There’s a particular poignancy to the way the film shows fandom not as frivolous escapism but as a meaningful, often transformative experience. Watch here.

9. The Punk Singer (dir. Sini Anderson, 2013)
   Sini Anderson’s The Punk Singer offers a stirring, intimate portrait of Kathleen Hanna, the frontwoman of Bikini Kill and a founding figure of the Riot Grrrl movement. The film charts her incendiary rise from the underground punk scene of the early '90s to the heights of feminist iconography, but also delves into her abrupt withdrawal from public life due to a battle with Lyme disease. What elevates The Punk Singer beyond the conventional rock documentary is its unapologetic focus on gender politics, activism, and the persistent struggles faced by women in the music industry. Anderson captures Hanna’s bracing intellect and energy, while also meditating on the costs of being a woman who dares to speak loudly in a world that often prefers its female artists silent. Watch here.

Like the riot grrrl movement that it, in part, documents, Sini Anderson's the punk singer (2013) pushes against previously established perimeters regarding the participation and representation of women in punk music. The film is a primer on feminism and activism. It feels collective, as in when it credits archive footage from other riot grrrl films within the frame rather than simply in the credits a small yet radical move in keeping with the rest of the film.

10. Truth and Memory (dir. Kieran Evans, 2019)
    Kieran Evans’ Truth and Memory offers a raw, unvarnished glimpse into the creation of the Manic Street Preachers' landmark 1998 album This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours. Using never-before-seen footage shot by photographer Mitch Ikeda and band member Nicky Wire, Evans constructs a lo-fi collage that captures the chaotic, unplanned moments surrounding the album’s production. Rather than relying on polished interviews or high-definition visuals, the film embraces the grainy, imperfect quality of VHS tapes and lo-res audio, giving viewers an authentic window into the band’s world during this pivotal period. From candid studio sessions at Rockfield to footage of devoted fans queuing for a midnight album signing in Cardiff, the film reveals the intimate, behind-the-scenes experiences that shaped the album’s creation. Without the gloss of a conventional documentary, Truth and Memory stands as a deliberately rough-edged testament to the band's ethos—preserving the emotional texture of a moment in time, as captured by those living it. Watch Here.