FOR PROFESSIONAL SKATEBOARDING, the video is king. It's the demo, contest win and feature interview all rolled into one blazing package. If you've got something to prove, the VHS tape is your audition and the skaters of the world, your audience. A sick video can turn a hometown hero into a household name and a middling pro into a legend.
Few have had a bigger influence on the modern skate video than Jamie Thomas. Starting with Toy Machine's Welcome to Hell, the ground-breaking skating got the treatment it deserved. JT sped up the action, tightened the filming and editing, and put more than a bong-hit's worth of time into choosing the music--an all-killer, no-filler approach; the result of which was a freight train of a tape that made folks cover their eyes, scream out loud, and most importantly, want to get out and skate.
The follow-ups, Zero's Thrill of it All and Misled Youth, further refined this ultra-aggressive video style while the team, a crew of relative unknowns (many of whom were just as happy to acid drop as switch crooks), helped push the then-narrow boundaries of tricks deemed acceptable. The intense level of the skating, punctuated by Jamie's monster rails and unreal drops, was coupled with a new work ethic long forgotten in the style-conscious early '90s. Gone were the days of "Here, film this" buddy cams and Saturday afternoon hangover sessions. Late nights with generators and two-day trips to secret rails in the Midwest became the norm. Their passion for production and focus on the gnar has influenced a lazy industry and a generation of kids who, with heavy metal ringing through their heads, are ready to throw themselves down every handrail in sight.
To ask the Zero team when they started working on Dying to Live is pointless. The truth is, they started the day after Misled Youth premiered. To be on the Zero team means always being in production mode.
Few have had a bigger influence on the modern skate video than Jamie Thomas. Starting with Toy Machine's Welcome to Hell, the ground-breaking skating got the treatment it deserved. JT sped up the action, tightened the filming and editing, and put more than a bong-hit's worth of time into choosing the music--an all-killer, no-filler approach; the result of which was a freight train of a tape that made folks cover their eyes, scream out loud, and most importantly, want to get out and skate.
The follow-ups, Zero's Thrill of it All and Misled Youth, further refined this ultra-aggressive video style while the team, a crew of relative unknowns (many of whom were just as happy to acid drop as switch crooks), helped push the then-narrow boundaries of tricks deemed acceptable. The intense level of the skating, punctuated by Jamie's monster rails and unreal drops, was coupled with a new work ethic long forgotten in the style-conscious early '90s. Gone were the days of "Here, film this" buddy cams and Saturday afternoon hangover sessions. Late nights with generators and two-day trips to secret rails in the Midwest became the norm. Their passion for production and focus on the gnar has influenced a lazy industry and a generation of kids who, with heavy metal ringing through their heads, are ready to throw themselves down every handrail in sight.
To ask the Zero team when they started working on Dying to Live is pointless. The truth is, they started the day after Misled Youth premiered. To be on the Zero team means always being in production mode.

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