Butthole Surfers @ Webster Hall, NYC July 29, 2008

I first saw Butthole Surfers at Webster Hall (then called The Ritz) back in 1986 or so.  The show started with the quintessential angst/noise anthem "Shah Sleeps in Lee Harvey's Grave", movies rolling, Kathleen naked and green center stage, strobes, smoke and colored lights all over the place, like some wickedly bad nightmare edge blotter trip, and then each member lit their guitar on fire, smashed it on the stage and threw the flaming pieces into the audience. They grabbed more guitars, lit them too, smashed them and threw even more splintered flaming guitar parts into the crowd.  All during the FIRST SONG. I was terrified.  I was in awe.  I was in love.

Now twenty+ years later, they fittingly come out of retirement to play here again. It's very odd how the Buttholes, the most revered and monumental underground band of the 80s (sorry Sonic Youth, you could never compete on this level) rose to become international indie rock gods only to go major label, get a gold record and then just disappear rapidly but quietly.  They never actually broke up, and we all thought they were just working on the next amazing album to end all albums, or planning their next tour, but it didnt happen.  A random smattering of shows here and there but almost like they just needed to please the record company contract.  The juggernaut seemed to have gone and with it did the entire underground rock scene.

But here they were again, 25 years a band, with the classic late 80s lineup of Gibby, Paul, Pinkus, King & Theresa, only missing Kathleen (are you still living in Jersey Kathleen?  Were you at the show?) and despite the spectacles on Paul and Gibby, and a few lyrics written down to jog the memory, the band were in great form and picked a perfect setlist to please the fans.

I felt the songs from the early albums had the most impact, great tribal dirges perfect for sweaty moshing, slow and steady and pulsing.  The younger kids, having only grown up on the later major label albums were happier when they played the higher speed thrash rock.  Tracks from most of their albums were represented, with the notable exception of "pioughd"  (damn, no "lonesome bulldog" or "blindman"?)  It was all a-list material, perfect for a greatest hits album.  (as cheesey at it sounds, the world needs a BHS greatest hits album, perhaps the band can use their genius to pull that off without it looking like K-Tel production? A truly dignified collection of their best work...)

Those of you who appreciated the Buttholes trademark mind blowing light shows may have been disappointed.  Video projectors have replaces 16mm (Kathleen once told me how she loved the effect of the projectors beams spreading out across the audience - none of that with the new gear, and the imagery now in more in the background, not nearly as overwhelming and frightening as it used to be). Besides some strobes and tiny puffs of smoke, the lights were very low key, but hell, we were just too happy to have the band and their music here.  Ask the aging fans risking hip dislocations in the moshpit, they were loving every second.

Technically I should add, the sound at Webster Hall is atrocious.  A bit muddy and not helped by the staff.  The band were apparently doing their own best to get sound out of bad microphones and dealing with the monitors and bad levels, which leads us to the next scene.

All good thing must come to an end and in true classic style as well.  Gibby was apparently arguing with the stage monitor sound guy, which led to a plastic cup being thrown, and suddenly the security goon pulled him offstage. Paul took over with "Shah Sleeps in Lee Harvey's Grave" which he did magnificently if not menacingly, and the band called it quits while we waited and waited for Gibby to come back.  Which did not happen.  If the crowd had been younger, riots would have ensued and blood would've flowed, but after a half hour of haranguing the security staff's unwise decision, we just gave up and left the building.  It was sad to not hear another half dozen amazing songs, but this show had certainly made up for our needed fix of truly profoundly wonderful underground music as provided by the best of the best.  I hope they will come back and play more.  Sometime before we're all too old to enjoy a good moshpit.

-bobby bunny