Ashamedly, I wasn’t very familiar with the musician Garland Jeffreys before seeing this warm, unostentatious documentary directed and edited by Claire Jeffreys, his partner of more than 40 years. At a brisk 70-minute runtime, the film is a revealing overview of his career and music that should appeal to both longtime fans and the uninitiated.

Born in 1943 in the multicultural neighborhoods of Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn, Jeffreys is a biracial musician of Black and Puerto Rican descent who emerged as one of the most promising rock artists of the 1970s (as proclaimed by Rolling Stone). Jeffreys’s influences are wide-ranging. One of his earliest inspirations was the honey-voiced teenager Frankie Lymon (most famous for “Why Do Fools Fall in Love”). He also frequented jazz clubs and would later meet Lou Reed when they were students at Syracuse University. Jeffreys would go on to perform in New York City with Reed as the headliner.

The documentary is, in part, a love song to New York City—a winsome ’70s tune, “New York Skyline,” figures prominently and would later carry deeper meaning in the aftermath of September 11th. The city is where Jeffreys’s life as an artist blossomed and where he still lives in a modest apartment with Claire and their twenty-something daughter, Savannah (who is also a musician). Some of the film’s most endearing moments show him writing, playing around with music, and listening back to himself on a well-worn tape player, complete with its screechy rewind sound.

In his early career, Jeffreys performed at bars, folk clubs, and legendary venues like the Fillmore East. His provocative lyrics explore social issues, racial injustice, and his own life. His musical style reflects a wide array of influences—traversing reggae, rock, doo-wop, and pop—which made him difficult for radio and record labels to promote or neatly categorize. As music critic David Hajdu notes, “Categorization is the reality and the tyranny of the music industry, and he’s [Jeffreys] been a victim of it.” While he received critical acclaim and some success overseas, he never quite broke through to the mainstream and was eventually dropped from his label.

Talking heads like Laurie Anderson and Bruce Springsteen (who describes Jeffreys as an American great in the songwriting tradition of Bob Dylan and Neil Young) lend their support, and illuminate just how unpredictable and harsh the music industry can be: some artists become megastars, and others, despite great talent, fade away.

While not a showy piece of filmmaking, if Claire Jeffreys’s intent was to shine a light on an underappreciated musician, it worked. The showcasing of his tunes, including electrifying performances of “Cool Down Boy” and “Don’t Call Me Buckwheat,” had me seeking out his rich discography immediately after watching.