I got my first B******e Surfers cassette, Hairway to Steven, in 1988 when I was 16. Instead of song titles, it had what looked like obscene hieroglyphics to mark the different tracks. Back in the acid-drenched 80s, The B******e Surfers had music that wasn’t just inspired by psychedelics; it was attempting to recreate hallucination on a recording. Whether it was a good trip or a bad trip depended upon how hard you resisted what you were hearing. Also, I was once informed by a century club member, meaning someone who has taken over 100 hits of acid over time, that of all the punk shows he saw in New England, it was The B******e Surfers that was the most dangerous. Dangerous in terms of performer antics, audience reaction, and reality impairment. This also means that the 80s were a lot cooler than you could possibly imagine, with freedoms achieved that will never be seen again. Your children need to know that, once they are old enough to watch B******e Surfers: The Hole Truth And Nothing Butt, which is around 35.
“This documentary acts just like an acid flashback, as you can’t stop recalling it once you see it.”
It was The B******e Surfers that were at that dayglo decade’s vanguard, with a freak flag hoisted on a mast higher than an El Paso radio tower that never came down. As the 90s set in and the LSD got progressively watered down, The B******e Surfers morphed from being an outstanding experimental group to being jukebox heroes, creating arguably the best American hard rock songs since Grand Funk Railroad. While I appreciate their experimental 80s phase, it is the speaker-splitting 90s tunes that were the results of all that musical lab work. The reason that Electric Larryland sold so many copies is that it is one of the best albums of the 90s. Some of my favorites from back in the day have fallen to the wayside decades ago, but The B******e Surfers never stopped tripping on my decks and turntables. I even find myself humming “Dracula From Houston” sometimes.
While caught in the swirl of lysergic-laced lunacy, the calming aura of the mellow elder statesmen the band has become keeps rising up. Leary is the coolest, Gibby is still as deft as ever, Pinkus is the bomb. Coffey was illuminating, awakening a long dormant Earth: Final Conflict fetish from way back. Taylor is the greatest of all time when it comes to fun humans. How did we all get so old? Why did most of us flee Austin? It is also utterly appropriate that I get to review B******e Surfers: The Hole Truth And Nothing Butt for Film Threat, as we have always been the B******e Surfers of film journalism. Also, director Stern is a former coverboy of the magazine, having appeared alongside Alex Winters, promoting the awesome movie Freaked. Stern does not let down, as B******e Surfers: The Hole Truth And Nothing Butt is crucial music history written on an acid blotter with a peyote pen. Keep tabs on it, as it is sick and dope.
Header Image: © Photo by Pat Blashill
"…crucial music history written on an acid blotter with a peyote pen."
