Butthole Surfers / Melvins / Psychic Ills
Regency Ballroom; San Francisco, CA

[10-16-2009]

Gibby Haynes was born in 1957, Buzz Osborne in 1964. Melvins and Butthole Surfers were both formed in the early 80s, and so I was not surprised when upon encountering a friend after the show back in Oakland, they asked if these rockers have to use walkers now. Clearly, they are not that old, but judging by my perception of the crowd, which was practically drenched in tattoo ink, the median age had to be in the "could-be-my-parents" range. All this is offered only to help set the context for my enjoyment of this show, being that I was and still remain essentially a newcomer to the music and legacy of both the Melvins and the Butthole Surfers.

The Regency is a fancy-pants, large and historic venue on the fringe of San Francisco's Tenderloin district. To attend a gnarly, stinky, loud and base rock show at such a classy venue is already enough of a mind-fuck. It didn't take long for me to realize that this crowd was on a lot of drugs, getting wasted (puke on hardwood), and desiringrock. So I wonder if there wasn't a bit of collective disappointment over the underwhelming performance of the openers, Psychic Ills. A New York City band, Psychic Ills had been playing the role of openers for this BS tour, which the Melvins joined for three California dates. Psychic Ills brought a monochrome, plodding psychedelic texture to the room, dominated by some tribal drumming and underscored by vocals that resembled constipated moaning. There are certainly better psyche-rock bands that could hold down the privilege of opening for the Butthole Surfers, and my eavesdropping confirmed that I was not alone in this assessment. At least two different pot-bellied comic-store owner types were overheard mentioning the same thing. When Psychic Ills was done, a subdued yay from the crowd seemed more in relief than appreciation, and then anticipation heightened.

The Melvins picked up another drummer (Coady Willis) a couple years back, and I will say that in the live context, it is an amazingly well-thought out move. The idea is that the drummers will act as mirror images, and they were synched up to an astonishing degree. I have never experienced sludge so thick, metal so anaerobic and raw. The attack was ferocious, and the tempo changes, moving back and forth between dense and sparse, were exceuted with perfect timing. Not a moment was wasted, and even the most primeval portions blazed and roared under the mayhem of the crowd. Having seen the Melvins, all of their offshoots seem a little underwhelming, now and forever, including sunn 0))), Boris, and Earth.

After an incredible ~40 minute set, there was a quick break dominated by the theme song to The Price is Right blasting through the PA on repeat. Then the Butthole Surfers took the stage, and judging by the crowd reaction, most people had come to see the Surfers. Three huge video projection screens loomed behind the four-piece incarnation, with Gibby Haynes front and center. I had heard and read about the seizure inducing Butthole Surfers' sets, but perhaps they have toned it down slightly. Only slightly though, because between the three screens, I found it hard to focus on the band themselves. The videos being shown were some of the most grotesque, horny, and amazing clips I've seen in a while, and I've seen some pretty gruesome shit on film here recently. There were equal parts horror and pornography, being shown in a somewhat sloppy, yet simply entertaining fashion.

The set was custom-made for those washing their brains is soporific prescription drugs, or alternately, letting your heart race and palms sweat underneath a warm blanket of cocaine and whisky. Simply put, the Butthole Surfers I observered seemed to be the drug fiend's best friend of a show. Whatever your pleasure, watching the Surfers is equal parts video overdose and psychedelic rock for misanthropes and sociopaths. Despite my positive appraisal, I found myself needing to leave about 3/4 of the way through, partially because I needed to catch the transit, and partially because I was way too sober to stick around.

[Photo: Keri Pickett]

  

News

  • Recent
  • Popular