Review: Christopher Fitzpatrick’s OKLAHOMA BREAKDOWN profiles a one-of-a-kind one-hit iconoclast

When people think of a one-hit-wonder, it’s usually something like Right Said Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy,” a single with a catchy tune and/or lyrics that are different from everything else but would drive you crazy if it were a whole album. But then there are also the one-hit-wonders of songwriting, who sell that big tune to someone else who covers and makes it big. Think Ednaswap’s “Torn,” associated in the minds of most ’90s kids with Natalie Imbruglia. Oklahoma Breakdown may not be on quite that level – we live in a more segmented era when it comes to music, and the tune was number one on the Texas charts for Stoney LaRue. But its original author, Mike Hosty, is the subject of this documentary by the same name. And while it makes a case that he definitely should have been more than a one-hit-wonder of covered songs, it also makes the follow-up case that in the end, he’s exactly where he should be.

Hosty, whose last name rhymes with “frosty” rather than “toasty,” probably missed his biggest potential moment in the sun by about five years. After stints in several bands including up-and-comers Heater, his Mike Hosty Trio became a thing in Oklahoma in 1997, right when grunge and the alternative nation were giving way to boy bands and jock pop. They made it onto a VH-1 competition show, then downsized to being a duo before the White Stripes and Black Keys made that the in-thing.

Oklahoma Breakdown begins with Hosty as he is today, a one-man band with comedic banter and amazing improv skills in both music and humor. (Though to be fair, a lot of his spontaneous punchlines fall back on some variation of “Oklahomans do meth.”) With the wit of Tom Lehrer and a sound that’s like alt-country converging with Sonic Youth-style noise-pop, he seems like the sort of guy who’d have been all over college radio and MTV in the early ’90s, had he found his groove by then. Instead, he’s a fixture of the Oklahoma music scene, and a pioneer in the subgenre known as “Red Dirt,” which might best be described – based on what we see and hear in this documentary – as indie country by artists who don’t want to be defined as country.

Director Christopher Fitzpatrick discovered Hosty in the days of the Hosty Trio, and kept rediscovering him on every return visit to Oklahoma. His fascination becomes ours. Roughly the first half of the movie deals with Hosty’s backstory; the second with his current life situation, beginning with Stoney La Rue’s cover of his tune.

Stories of musical success usually come with subsequent tales of excess and inevitable acrimony. Some of that last part may be present for Hosty – longtime drummer and partner in Hosty Duo, Mike Byars, declined requests to be interviewed amid the many others who have nothing but nice things to say. But perhaps as a result of his strict Catholic background and musical discipline as a kid – he rebelled simply by being less of a control freak than his father – Hosty’s path became arguably more of the American Dream than the stereotypical one we usually associate with rock stars. Fitzpatrick makes the case that, rather than hard work paying off in mountains of money and fame, it brought him the right kinds of friends, family, and life to suit a guy like him.

When it comes to fame, Hosty doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page. One of his biggest media moments was as the butt of a Jay Leno “headlines” bit, in which the Tonight Show host seemed oblivious to the fact that said headline was in fact a deliberate joke by the singer. His songs cover such topics as bags of wine, chicken bones, and his one-time job as a dishwasher. For all that musical knowledge and talent, he maintains that connection to a budget lifestyle, making enough to support a family but not to be a star. Except locally, where everyone knows him as a must-see bar star.

It’s tough to judge a documentary like this apart from its subject. What if this were a movie idolizing a terrible hack or unlistenable vocalist? (In the interest of not bashing artists, there will be no examples provided here, but you probably just conjured some in your head.) Fitzpatrick may not be the kind of genius with filmmaking that Hosty is with music, but then, very few are. What he has done, rather than creating a musical hagiography or conflict-laden narrative, is introduce us to a new friend. One whom we feel like we should have known before.

Oklahoma Breakdown, a documentary about a one-man band freak of nature who also tells jokes, has its world premiere at Phoenix Film Festival this weekend.