This documentary about the history of ska music is a deliriously happy film that I personally connected to, so it’s very possible, even probable, that I’m overrating it. But this thing is a joy machine and a fastidious historical document, and I don’t just say that as an ex-marching band geek who loves music and good-time vibes and has very little sense about what is “cool” and “uncool.” Yes, I have predictably been to a bunch of ska shows, and count a handful of third-wave-ska-adjacent bands among my favorites, or at least formative favorites. But Pick It Up is really illuminating.

What is genuinely impressive about the documentary is how many people the crew interviews. It’s not just the quantity of subjects, but the breadth: Pick It Up! offers a rather complete cross-section of the noteworthy third-wave ska bands. Despite a decently thorough knowledge of third wave ska listening to a lot of it off filesharing services in my college and early-20s days, I actually had a hard time coming up with a major ska or ska-associated band from the ’90s without at least one band member offering a talking head or archival interview — only Sublime (who duly get bashed pretty hard here) and Op Ivy (who duly receive reverential treatment) came to mind.

There are some real deep cuts — Travis Barker talking about his time in Aquabats before joining Blink 182, for example. Some road-grinding legends offer great takes: Dan P and Scotty Klopfenstein and Jeff Rosenstock (!). The appearances, surprisingly, include many of the pre-’90s bands, too: the great 2-tone ska bands (like The Specials), and the transitionary figures (like Fishbone), and even a couple Jamaican first-wave legends. Hell, Tony Hawk shows up! (In reference to how Tony Hawk Pro Skater included Goldfinger, of course.) Biggest interview complaints: 1) no Tomas Kalnoky, 2) a bit too much burnt out Aaron Barrett.

So did the ska documentary really need to be over an 1:40 long, especially when it’s as light on concert footage as Pick It Up! is? Almost certainly not, but it really is stuffed with interesting reflection and tangents. You get a little flavor of the knotty story on how an offbeat, local scene could explode and hit Billboard, then implode and become a punchline.

And, most importantly, the film offers a spirited but honest defense of the genre. Yes, ’90s ska from Orange County was mostly white suburban goobers having fun on stage with their horns. They were in the right place at the right time to break out onto the national stage. Gone was the social message of even their direct inspirations, let alone the English and Jamaican protest music that defined the genre in the first place. But it was (and still is) a music fundamentally inclusive and positive and collaborative. Lots of joy in the music, lots of joy in this documentary.

Rating: *** 1/2 (out of 4)