I went to a concert Wednesday night. It featured music and video projection and was a nostalgia trip for many, while providing an introduction to fans that weren’t even born when the music was written and first performed.
At first glance, one might suspect that Weird Al was filming a video for ‘White and Nerdy‘. The crowd was packed with chubby Caucasian males in the 30-50 year-old range. (My estimate was 60%.) There were girls, fortunately. The cool kinds of girls who go to these concerts, in their bellybutton-high miniskirts and torn jeans.
You’re probably thinking I went to the Star Wars extravaganza.
Nope.
For those of you reading at work, this is where the NSFW warning comes. While I don’t have dirty pictures to share, there are some words coming up that may set the prim and proper on edge. Like the name of the band.
Yes, last night I saw the…
…BUTTHOLE SURFERS!
There, I said it.
I first heard of the Butthole Surfers in the mid-80s, when I lived a few blocks from Satyricon. While making my morning beer run I noticed the marquis, advertising BUTTHOLE SURFERS and HOLY FUCK BATMAN. Wha-? Can they say that? Satyricon had an edgy reputation, but I fully expected Mildred Schwab to show up with a ruler and make those boys take that filth down. Now!
Posters kept popping up on light poles, with opening bands like HELL COWS and SMEGMA. Curiosity piqued, I wanted to go, but research said that these were borderline dangerous bands to see. Fights, drug use, shows often left unfinished because band members got arrested or too high to continue. I prefer my anarchy from a distance, and they slipped off my radar until ElectricLarryland started getting airplay.
Pepper was the first hip-hop flavored song to strike a chord with me. I wasn’t against rap in general, it just sounded like angry people yelling at me, and I’d gotten enough of that when I was married. Pepper had lyrical qualities, and it reminded me of a girl I really liked, so I bought the album and memorized it note for note.
About two weeks before 9/11, the Surfers released Weird Revolution, an album meant to “freak out the bug-eyed, bow-legged normal man.” The cover featured a giant baby shooting jet fighters out of the sky with its eyes. You can imagine how that went over after the World Trade Center attacks. The album slipped into obscurity, with a faithful few (hand in air!) preaching its wonderfulness. If you hadn’t known it had been released pre-9/11, you would think of them as the most insensitive band ever. In retrospect, it makes them look visionary.
What band would show up Wednesday night?
The opening act was interesting. Psychic Ills. If I were to pitch them Hollywood style, I would say they sounded like Nine Inch Nails playing Pink Floyd’s A Saucerful of Secrets. The soccer mom next to me looked bored. I noticed we had the same sneakers on. Why was she here? My question was answered a few minutes later, when two ‘tween boys came up to check in. How cool is that? Mom takes son and friends to first concert, and it’s the Butthole Surfers. I mean, what twelve-year-old doesn’t like saying “butthole”? Hell, I enjoy saying it, and I’m four times their age.
The Surfers took the stage promptly at 9 PM, and they kicked it off with Something. The setlist focused on their older material; I recognized maybe four songs, and soundbites of many others. My date was bummed that they didn’t play Pepper, or at least they hadn’t when we snuck out ahead of the crowd.
The show was not as cacophonic or disjointed as their reputation would hint. My friend noticed that they seemed somewhat sober and in good health. Gibby Haynes, lead character in the band, made marijuana references and pointed to “Portland girls gettin’ freaky in the crowd,” but it was a well-behaved crowd and band. Gibby has been filmed smoking crack onstage, had sex with a band member onstage, and has been arrested for assault onstage. None of that happened Wednesday. The violence was contained to the video loop screen, which at one point featured a montage of B-movie head wounds. Scanners. House of 1,000 Corpses. Night of the Living Dead. A film called Stuff, which is a favorite guilty pleasure of my date. Gruesome, but fitting, considering their reputation.
But then, music is more fun when it’s a little dangerous…
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Doesn’t 99% of Portland fit the White and Nerdy look?
I met my husband at a Butthole Surfers concert when they were touring for that ill-fated Weird Revolution album…it wasn’t a great show, but I always think of them with great fondness because of that!
(And I too get a kick out of telling that story and getting to say ‘butthole’ to people, especially folks I think are kinda uptight… hee hee…)
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