The tagline for The Dicks From Texas is ‘the men,
the myth, the music’ – certainly a fitting description for this documentary
film about one of the most outrageous and influential punk bands of all time.
First-time director Cindy Marabito has pulled off
a real coup with this documentary, delivering a film that looks and feels more
like a lovingly curated compilation of family movies than anything else – a
perfect touch for her subjects. Friends, family, and fans tell the Dicks story,
from their Austin, Texas, origins in the late 1970s – a place and a time when concepts
like embracing homosexuality and holding an affinity for communist
revolutionaries like Chairman Mao were not exactly going to win you many friends
in the above-ground world – to their induction into the Austin Music Awards
Hall Of Fame in 2008, and beyond.
Interviews spanning decades – with subjects
including original Dicks (vocalist Gary Floyd, also of Sister Double Happiness; late guitarist Glen Taylor; bassist Buxf Parrott, and drummer Pat Deason),
latter-day Dicks (like drummer Lynn Perko, also of SDH), Texas punk compatriots
(late Big Boys vocalist Randy ‘Biscuit’ Turner; Offenders drummer Pat Doyle; late
Offenders guitarist Tony Johnson; Scratch Acid/The Jesus Lizard frontman David
Yow; Butthole Surfers drummer King Coffey; rawk bad-ass Texas Terri), national
punk admirers (Minor Threat/Fugazi frontman Ian MacKaye; S.O.A./Black Flag
vocalist Henry Rollins; Minutemen/fIREHOSE bassist Mike Watt; Black
Flag/DC3/Misfits guitarist/vocalist Dez Cadena), and an amazing array of
friends and family – are cut with live footage and hundreds of vintage photos
to tell the tale of how a ‘poster band’ that didn’t actually exist not only
came to life, but actually went on to influence 4 decades (and counting) of
punks, activists, and oddballs.
The biggest thrill in this package, for me, is the
bonus live footage: 7 songs captured by Target Video mastermind Joe Rees at San
Francisco’s On Broadway in 1982 and 5 more filmed by Vicki Sprague at the
Akron, Ohio, stop on 1983’s Rock Against Reagan tour.
Others: We Jam Econo, The Decline of Western Civilization Parts I and III, Another State of Mind
On a certain level, it would be easy to say that punk rock as a
concept in 2016 is irredeemably stupid and retrograde (and let’s face
it, you probably could have said the same in 1977), but to be fair, the
important service it provides as a hate vaccination for stammering
misfit youth has yet to be properly supplanted (maybe someone could get
Martin Shkreli working on that?). Besides, one must concede that punk —
in its pure, non-poseur state, anyway — has also been an extremely
important signifier for freakoids searching for their place in the
world, a fact which goes a long way towards explaining why it holds a
special place in the hearts and minds of so many otherwise-reasonable
adults.
In Cindy Marabito’s new documentary The Dicks From Texas,
we get to see that special power in full and brilliant display: it is a
film which, though ostensibly about a band, is primarily a document of
the myriad oddballs which were drawn into that band’s drunken, radical
orbit during Reagan’s Morning in America.
The Dicks were, and remain, Austin’s greatest punk band (unless
you’re a skater, in which case it
might be their peers the Big Boys, or
if you’re one of those moldy figs who use “punk” as a synonym for “1960s
garage,” in which case it’s the 13th Floor Elevators… but y’all knew
that). In a time when it was still weird and dangerous to even be a new
wave band in Texas, this self-identifying “commie fag” hardcore band,
fronted by “fat queer” Gary Floyd (who frequently took the stage in loud
vintage dresses and bits of Maoist regalia), were basically asking to
get the shit kicked out of them.
Lucky for them, then, that they were
also the scariest bunch of motherfuckers in town, a sloppy, ugly band
who made little conceit to either cautious tastes or conservative mores.
That fearlessness, along with Floyd’s
Divine-meets-Chris-Farley-meets-bear stage presence and the band’s
trainwreck energy, endeared them to the nascent Austin freak scene while
also making an indelible impression upon touring heavy-hitters like
Black Flag, Minutemen, and Minor Threat (it wouldn’t be an 80s punk doc
without a couple words from Rollins, Watt and MacKaye… where are
Thurston and Jello, I wonder?).
MacKaye recalls the band as genuinely
intimidating, having been told before coming to Texas that The Dicks
“were run out of Austin because they were wanted on charges of
terrorism.” Whether that anecdote is partial truth or gleeful
mythmaking, its believability is telling.
A slick and artful documentary would hardly be the appropriate document for such notorious gnarlers, and The Dicks From Texas
is not that. No-fi and personal, the film stumbles hazily down memory
lane, interviewing its subjects in shitty bars and sprawled out on beds,
laughing about old pals and relating disjointed anecdotes for which
most viewers will have little context. This makes it a far cry, in both
construction and cohesion, from the likes of The Filth and the Fury or even We Jam Econo, but frankly, I couldn’t imagine the story told any other way. How could a Texas punk doc NOT be this folksy and weird?
The Dicks From Texas probably isn’t an ideal entry point
for the casually curious, and I would be hard put to call it a great
film. It is, however, honest and passionate as fuck; any dirty dog who’s
ever blasted “Dicks Hate the Police”
on a shitty stereo in a shitty apartment will get everything they need
out of it, plus a desire to hug the cuddly Gary Floyd of today as a
bonus treat. If you want anything more than that, you’re probably a
poseur anyway.
Screens as part of Sound Unseen in the Twin Cities on February 10th, 2016.
Texas punk legend was among the first hardcore bands with openly gay singer
The Dicks was a trailblazing punk band thanks to classics like
“Dicks Hate the Police” and “Rich Daddy,” sung by Gary Floyd, one of
the first openly gay hardcore punk vocalists.
Courtesy
Posted
Rich Tupica
On Halloween 2016, The Dicks played its final show
at Grizzly Hall in Austin, Texas—the city that birthed the trailblazing
hardcore punk band. This last hurrah came 36 years after the raucous
band’s formation in 1980—the onset of the Reagan era.
Through it all, singer Gary Floyd, the band’s openly gay
singer, wasn’t afraid to loudly ruffle conservative feathers with
Marxist lyrics and now-classic punk tracks like “Dicks Hate the Police,”
an anti-cop anthem famously covered by Mudhoney.
During its earliest years, The Dicks was a fixture at
Raul’s, an Austin dive bar that attracted local freaks, scenesters,
punks and artists. At the band’s genesis, Floyd was a 26-year-old
transplant from Palestine, Texas. Growing up in the 1960s, during the
Vietnam War, he was a conscientious objector. As the years rolled on, he
never stopped vocally questioning the system.
As the ’70s wound down, Floyd became enamored with punk
rock, then a new genre. He created a fake band called “The Dicks” and
would draw up faux flyers promoting non-existent shows and post them
across Austin. It was a fictional band, with phony gigs, that would soon
be real after he threw together a makeshift band of likeminded friends,
including Buxf Parrott (bass), Pat Deason (drums) and Glen Taylor
(guitar). The outcome? Fast, loud and gritty tunes that infused classic
punk with blasts of hardcore, blues and some free-form ranting.
The outfit officially debuted a couple weeks of after its
first rehearsal at the 1980 “Punk Rock Prom” at Armadillo World
Headquarters, a large-capacity Austin venue. Of course, with the flashy
showman Floyd at the helm, The Dicks immediately turned heads.
“Right off the bat, we were going to be different than
your regular punk band,” Floyd told KQED, an NPR affiliate, in 2016. “We
also said we were communists, we were drag queens ... we were twisting
some heads, for sure.”
By 1983, The Dicks became a San Francisco band after Floyd
relocated to California. That same year, “Kill from the Heart,” the
band’s blistering debut full-length LP released via SST Records — also
home to Black Flag, the Minutemen, Sonic Youth, the Meat Puppets, Hüsker
Dü, and a roster of other now-iconic outfits. Though, there is no doubt
that Floyd put the most thought into his on-stage looks. Think Divine
meets Iggy Pop.
“I figured my reputation would be safe no matter what I
did,” Floyd also told KQED reporter Kevin L. Jones. “It was always fun. I
was always pretty adventurous with coming up with ways to look
shocking, and shoving liver in my panties to throw on people, though I’d
use vegan liver now.”
By 1986, the first era of The Dicks ended, though the
group went through some starts and stops. Floyd also performed with
other acts, like Sister Double Happiness and Black Kali Ma. Then, from
2004 the band reunited for more gigs.
In July 2020, during the band’s 40th anniversary, the
COVID-19 pandemic fizzled a reunion show set for Austin. To date, no
future show has been announced. Still, even with no further shows, The
Dicks has no doubt carved out its groundbreaking place in punk rock
history.
“I think things needed to be said and this was a time of
punk rock [when] people were easily shocked and I took advantage of
that, I loved that,” Floyd recalled to reporter Luiz Mazetto of CVLT
Nation in July 2020, during the final months of the Trump presidency.
“We did some things that were pretty cool. The songs were sort of in
your face. And the politics were left, very left, obviously. I’ve always
been happy that we did all that. I think we did it and stopped at the
right time. I still do political stuff and I still do some of those
songs, when we play live. But I don’t feel the world stopped because we
broke up. We still did it afterwards. Like once every year or two, we
would do a show. Everything happens in the right time, I guess. Except
for Trump (laughs).”
For those looking to catch up on the history of the band,
“The Dicks from Texas,” a feature-length documentary, was released in
2016. The film, directed and produced by Cindy Marabito, features
interviews with high-profile fans like Henry Rollins, Ian MacKaye, Mike
Watt, Texas Terri, and David Yow, among others.
Gary
Floyd would go around town in Austin, Texas putting up posters
advertising 'The Dicks' with crazy ass pictures and promises that first
10 people with guns drink for free. It was a wild and crazy time in
Austin, back when 'keeping Austin weird' got you thrown in jail.
Gary
was a flamboyant outwardly gay personality with a voice that still
rivals the hardest heaviest bluesiest singers from Texas or anywhere
else. He ran into Buxf Parrot and Glen Taylor at Raul's Bar on Guadalupe
and the Dicks became a reality. Pat Deason joined the band just in time
for the legendary first live performance at the Armadillo World
Headquarters.
The Dicks were together for nearly four years and put out
'Dicks Hate the Police" 45 and two albums, "Live at Raul's" and "Kill
From the Heart" which have lived on for coming up on four decades,
inspiring other musicians and fans with songs like "Bourgeois Fascist
Pig," "Dead in a Motel Room," and "Dicks Hate the Police."
The Dicks
never sold out, never budged one fraction from their militant principles
at the cost of no big record deals and acclaim. What they got in return
was the respect of longtime hardcore followers who still turn out at
the rare live reunion shows where the Dicks still deliver.
Austin, Texas hardcore punk legends The Dicks were around in the early/mid '80s with releases on SST and Alternative Tentacles, and they've been reunited since 2004. This week (Friday, 2/12), a new documentary about them called The Dicks From Texas will hit the streets.
Before it's out, we're premiering a clip from the film that includes Henry Rollins and Ian MacKaye giving the band high praise and a short live clip. Henry talks about their Live at Raul's Club
split with The Big Boys getting heavy rotation at the SST offices, and
Ian discusses a show Minor Threat played with The Dicks opening.
Watch the clip, and the trailer and intro, below...
List of Great Texas Music Documentaries Adds One More
THE DICKS FROM TEXAS (2015) Mike Watt, Henry
Rollins, Austin scenesters and loads of unreleased footage help narrate
the loud-as-fuck legend of one of the most provocative and pure fun punk
bands Texas ever produced.
