I’ve never been to a Butthole Surfers show before that October night.  I only knew their shows by reputation—naked women dancing, live sex onstage, live sex with the stage equipment, etc.  So needless to say, I didn’t know what to expect.

A plain white backdrop was draped behind the band with roadies constantly trying to straighten it.  Even more hubbub was buzzing with tech guys messing around with a projector.  It seemed like a lot more prep than usual for a punk show.  The thought ran through my head that usually when bands have elaborate visuals it’s to make up for a mediocre performance.  I hope this wasn’t the case.

Suddenly the blue screen turned on and the Butthole Surfers stepped onto stage.  They came armed with two visual projections.  The obvious screen behind the band showed images of everything from open body surgeries to scenes from the old kids show Fraggle Rock.  The other projection was thrown up on the wall to the upper right of the audience and depicted manipulated photos of tacky 70’s B-movies and cheesy 80’s sci-fi.  I’ll be the first one to say that I do understand the concept of multimedia arts.  When the music and images compliment each other, it makes for an amazing experience.  But I’ll be honest, I was so distracted by the images on both walls that I didn’t catch songs being played.  But don’t get me wrong; the Surfers’ music was as raw as it’s always been.

Despite their last regular CD release was almost a millennium ago, they stuck with their classics.  “Something,” “Suicide,” and “Bar-B-Q Pope” from their self-titled release.  “Cowboy Bob,” and “Cherub” from Psychic, Powerless, Another Man’s Sac.  Gibby Haynes knew he was in San Diego when he said, “This is how I communicate with you people,” and flipped on a soundbyte of a water pipe for “Bong.”  Dale Crover of the Melvins did join the Surfers onstage to provide a second set of drums.  And, of course, they finish their set with “Who Was In My Room Last Night?”  But true to form, the Butthole Surfers had one last hoorah and punched up the smoke machine to cranked out “The Shah Sleeps in Lee Harvey’s Grave” for the encore.

I have mixed feelings about the show.  The multimedia exhibit was interesting and sort of cool but very distracting from the onstage performance.  Once I concentrated on the band, in my personal opinion, I didn’t see the need for all that.  Their live performance would have been just as entertaining.  And all those who are wondering, no they didn’t play “Pepper”.  And no, there was no live sex on stage.  Maybe next time.