Eighties post-punk rockers the Butthole Surfers were one of the wildest acts of the past few decades, part performance art and every bit musical experimentation.
Founded in San Antonio, this Texas band became something of a worldwide phenomenon, in part because their antics were pretty shocking.
Now their story’s being told in a full-length documentary, “Butthole Surfers: The Hole Truth and Nothing Butt,” having its worldwide premiere at South by Southwest.
Director Tom Stern, who actually began the project back in 1986, joined the Standard with more about the film.
This transcript has been edited lightly for clarity:
Texas Standard: Since 1986 – that’s a long time to be working on a documentary. What took so long, Tom?
Tom Stern: Well, it took 40 years to capture just how awesome the Butthole Surfers are. I needed that time.
I want to paint a picture for you: I am wearing some red-and-black checkered pajamas that used to belong to Gibby Haynes. Gibby Haynes is the lead singer, the frontman, the co-founder of the Butthole Surfers.
He is a visionary creative genius. He was a basketball star in high school, went to Trinity University in San Antonio, and the son of Mr. Peppermint, you know, who is the Mr. Rogers of Dallas. He and Paul Leary started this band at Trinity University. And they were, you know, the best live band of the ’80s, in my opinion, and in the opinion of many people.
Is that what happened, you became a fan and you decided somebody’s got to do the movie on these guys?
Tom Stern
Absolutely. I mean, you know, I didn’t literally start this documentary in 86. I shot them at CBGB in ’86 when I was a student at NYU Film School.
I was really into the music scene, and they were amazing. So, became friends, collaborated with them over the years. And then five years ago, I decided to make a documentary, because these guys need to be enshrined in music history.
» MORE: Texas shines on the big screen at SXSW
You were mentioning something about pajamas. What’s that about?
So, you heard about the California fires. I live in Altadena, and my house burned to the ground, as did my whole block, not a single house left standing. It was kind of a revelation that stuff is not really that important, you know – if you don’t lose anyone you love, you’re not in bad shape.
And here’s the funny thing: I found out I got accepted with this film into South By, and then three hours later the fire broke out. So it was the ultimate good news, bad news day. [laughs]
The good news of getting into South by Southwest with my film relieves so much anxiety, because the band is such Texas legends; I’m like, this is the perfect festival. That was just like, yay, I was so happy. And that really put me in a good space.
Gibby sent me a care package of clothes, because I lost all my clothes in the fire. So I now literally am wearing Gibby Haynes’s clothes. And they had a hit song called “Pepper,” and people might remember the chorus of that song says, you know, “I can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes.” And so now I can literally smell Gibby Haynes in my clothes.
Do I ask what it smells like?
It’s very pleasant; you’d be surprised.
What about the name? Everyone asks about the name.
Okay, here’s what happened: The very first time they sat, they went and jammed together, the guitar player played a thing that was kind of like the Ventures, you know, that surf band.
They were just jamming on that, and then they stopped and Gibby was like, “wow, that sounded like surf music.” And then the drummer, Scott Matthews, said, “yeah, butthole surf music.”
That was what they named that song. But they then went through a bunch of just ridiculous names – that wasn’t their band name until one time they opened for the Big Boys in Austin. And Chris Gates, who’s in the Big Boys, he didn’t know what the band name was for the guys that night.
So he just looked at the set list, and the song “Butthole Surfer” was on there. So he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Butthole Surfers!”
And the rest is rock and roll history. The Texas music scene at the time was a big part of what the Surfers were. But also, you note that it’s a big part of their sound and their ethos. Could you say more about that?
When I asked Gibby Haynes, how much does Texas matter to the Butthole Surfers? He said, it’s everything. They’re so Texas.
It’s like art rock, right? But it’s not sort of precious art rock. It’s Texas art rock – you know, it’s like, kick ass. It’s chaos. It felt dangerous, and that really enhanced the experience.
And then the music was incredible. They were just incredible musicians who were cooking up this sound that was so unique and singular. It’s drawing from Texas blues and Freddie King and a lot of great Texas musical traditions, as well as classic rock.
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I think people will recognize a lot of the fans of this band in your film: Flea from Red Hot Chili Peppers, you’ve got Richard Linklater, the film director, comedian Eric André.
Clearly, it wasn’t just a niche thing. People still about the Surfers as seminal, and I’m wondering what you think that is.
You know, they’re funny. The Butthole Surfers were funny. They incorporated comedy into that dangerous stew. I think that it’s like when you name your band the Butthole Surfers in 1982, you’re not on a track to commercial success, right?
You’re not going to get a lot of radio airplay with that, right?
No, you’ve made a decision clearly that you don’t give an F. Like people are like, what? Like surfing on a butthole? No, it’s not that, it’s just, it’s a ridiculous name.
And they embrace the ridiculousness of life. They set it to a kind of thunderous tribal beat with this crazy chugging guitar that you can’t resist. It’s just powerful and hits you right in the solar plexus.
Speaking as a fan and not as a director, what would you hope that this movie could do for this band?
Well, I hope this movie could inspire young musicians and artists just to let their freak flag fly, because nobody did that like the Butthole Surfers.
