"We’re very true to who we are because there’s no reason not to be.”
By August Edwards
The first time that I talked to Christopher Walsh about his documentary in the summer of 2022, we stood next to the dumpster behind the Launchpad. He explained that he’d just received this grant to document the music scene in Albuquerque. I asked him how long he thought the documentary would be. He said, oh, 20 minutes, maybe 25. This was after he spent about an hour interviewing me next to that dumpster.
The result, The Decline of Southwestern Civilization: Part 1, ended up being about 90 minutes long. Walsh's seamless narrative bridges decades of history. Even without prior knowledge of Albuquerque, viewers would gain a sense of the expansive music scene and how the past intertwines with the present.
The film portrays a widespread “scene” with an invisible thread uniting the community. Interview subjects speak with ease about their passions and lives, like they’ve been waiting forever for someone to get this conversation going.
Chris is easy to talk to because you get the sense that he’s really listening to you. I think he has a sharp awareness that allows him to see the bigger picture. And listening to him share his experiences makes it clear that he approaches his process with thoughtfulness and deliberation.
Near the start of the documentary, Fly Honey Warehouse founder Adam Smith compares the success of a show to a triangle, a three-part formula involving the performers, the audience, and the host or venue. I think that photographers, documentarians, and promoters also play key roles in this dynamic. Many individuals can fulfill each of these essential roles—Chris is one of them.
On guitar in Prism Bitch, he tours the country playing sold-out shows. He also plays guitar in Dog Jury and was previously a member of Red Light Cameras among other bands. Currently, he’s in the improv troupe Left on Read. And I’ll always remember one night at the Moonlight Lounge in downtown Albuquerque, where, as I watched The Ordinary Things perform, Chris roved around the venue, face behind a camera, capturing footage for a music video. Now, he’s turned that lens toward making this documentary for the community.
So, what kind of foundation does an artist like this have?
“I think I felt very stuck in my home life,” Chris says. Ambitious and artistic, feelings of unfulfillment led him to indiscriminately pursue creative outlets at an early age. In high school he joined band, theater, a filmmaking class, and the school newspaper. Through this, he fostered independence, made friends, and came to enjoy school and learning. He also realized what it meant to be very, very busy.
He can recall a defining moment early on in high school. “This guy I knew, Neal, he was a senior, I was a freshman, and he brought in a guitar. And he was playing some Smashing Pumpkins on the guitar. And I was just mesmerized, and I was like, I have to do that. That’s the coolest thing. It wasn’t even really a choice—I just knew instantly that was what I had to do. I sold my trombone. I traded it in for a guitar.”
He'd heard the Smashing Pumpkins before, but seeing his classmate play ignited something in him. “I could see, through him, what there was to like about the Smashing Pumpkins. Also, the Smashing Pumpkins was one of the few artists that had an Asian guitarist that was visible. I’m Filipino, I’m Asian, so that was something that spoke to me. The older I get, the more I see the importance of that.”
Instead of channeling his vision into a single outlet, Chris explains that it was natural for him to try to hold it all together. “It felt so good to be all over the place. And they all work together. The kind of music I do uses a lot of theater. And knowing how a newspaper works, works great for promotion. It all comes together. For me, you’re just doing a lot of work in service of the project you’re working on; it’s always a bit of everything. I’ve just felt like I had to do that. And I’ve never had a lot of opportunities where someone’s like, hey, I’ll take care of the business side, and you get to do art. I’ve always just had to do everything from the very beginning—I’ve just learned how to do that. It’s not the best way to do it, but it’s the only way I know how.”
Fresh out of film school, he got a gig with the TV show Breaking Bad. There, his job was a lot of scheduling, emailing, and copying—the things you don’t think of when you think of television. Chris explains, “You learn that it’s a huge system of things that are happening to make this one thing happen. When you apply it to something on a much smaller scale, you have to do the same kind of things to make it happen. But it might just be you instead of a crew of a hundred people.”
This mentality brought him to 2022, when he received the Urban Enchantment Trust Fund Residency Resiliency Grant through the city of Albuquerque. Recipients had to link up with a nonprofit in order to secure the funds, because they couldn’t receive the grants directly. Chris explains it as federally funded support for artists in the aftermath of covid; he was one of about 80 people to get it. “Not a terrible amount of money to make a movie on—it was $2,500. Which is one of the biggest amounts I’ve gotten to make anything. It was nice, and it got me started. I’m really appreciative that the city did that.”
The trajectory of his project was constantly evolving. He gathered his material organically, relying on word-of-mouth. As a result, he says, “There was so much to follow.” Interview subjects would point him in new directions, and he would follow their leads, letting events unfold naturally. He describes the scene as both expansive and, at times, hidden. One thing was evident—he couldn't overlook the powerful presence of history.
“I’ve been a participant of the music community for over 15 years, but I realized that I really didn’t know anything about the history or anything that came before me,” he says, noting that there has been music made simultaneous to his own that he didn’t know about. “I lived in one silo of what was happening.”
“There’s always good music happening. At any time in the history, there is someone making a song that is good, or a sound that is interesting,” Chris says. “It made me realize that at any point I can go out with my camera and capture a bunch of really good bands.”
The documentary serves as a reminder that everything happening today has roots in the past. A common phrase you might hear is there are no new ideas. But who are we sharing our ideas with? “I think people don’t understand that there was a whole history of people that we stand on the shoulders of,” Chris says. Even though the film was released this year, The Decline of Southwestern Civilization captures a recent past. The project began in 2022, and even though the film only came out this year, it already reflects a somewhat bygone era. This is reflective of a healthy music ecosystem.
“After La Chancla closed down, which was a big part of the documentary, I was like, I should start bringing this to an end,” Chris says. And even after he began the editing process, people still hit him up with leads for more content.
“There were a couple months of really hardcore editing that I did before the premiere. I had to set a date to show it so I would do it,” he laughs. The competed interviews resulted in a document of over 700 pages of transcription. From there, he highlighted the content he liked, then cut that down even more. “It was one of the hardest editing projects I’ve ever done. I can’t say that I was enjoying it. At all.”
There is a lot of work that went into this film—not just from the filmmaker. Really, the documentary is a capsule of the lifelong work of countless individuals, showcasing how their stories intersect. A takeaway from the film is that the work adds up. Regular hours devoted to your art will eventually yield results. This is a driving force that has motivated Chris throughout his journey. “It’s always about the process,” he says. “I’m an ensemble-motivated person. I like working with other people, because I get to share in the process.”
“I am kind of a loner. I think art is a way for me to be around people and build a community. It’s hardest when I am alone—I tend to put myself down, or not hold myself accountable. It’s nice to have someone around for support. Making art alone is hard.”
Because of his values, he put a lot of pressure on himself. “I wanted to show what the community was, and I didn’t want to disappoint the community.”
“I am so proud to be a part of this community and so thankful to be a part of a community that really holds dear local music and has a place for people to perform. In many regards, it would be great if we had a lot of money to make a living just being an artist. But at the same time, we don’t have the pressure to follow trends, or not be ourselves at the expense of getting more famous. We’re very true to who we are because there’s no reason not to be. I really appreciate that, and love this community, and it’s been so accepting and loving back to me.”
Comments