Reverend Hort Heat and The Buttertones bring together generations of surf-rock

On the night of January 25th, 2020, Reverend Horton Heat had Slim’s swelling with pin-ups and psychobillies for a sold-out show. A line stretched out the door well before the show was set to begin, crowding the street with anticipation. It seemed as if everyone had received word of the incredible lineup ahead, consisting of The Paladins, The Buttertones, and Reverend Horton Heat. 

I personally had come hyped for The Buttertones, unaware of the talent to reside through the rest of the night. The Buttertones are a surf-rock, post-punk band from Los Angeles. Their talent transcends well beyond their years, with styles embodying years of passion, in an almost cinematic image. They released their debut album in 2014, following with the release of three more over the years. Each album converges odes to classic surf-rock, like “Moroccon Monsoon,” alongside thrashing punk, like “Saddie’s a Sadist,” all melted together by the bluesy tastes of their saxophone. That night, they were generous enough to provide a sneak-peek into their next album with one song that has restlessly played in my head since. 

I consider myself quite lucky to have even seen them that night, for the band has been hit with some hardships within the last year. Their drummer, Modeste Cobían, scratched his cornea which then quickly developed into an ulcer. According to an Instagram post from their bassist, Sean Redman, it had the potential to cause blindness in his right eye, leading the band to make the trying decision to cancel the rest of their tour. By the grace of talented doctors and his resilience, Cobían received a new cornea and they were  able to resume touring. I’ve been drafting a lengthy thank you letter to those doctors for months. 

I expected to find Cobían centered in his natural spot at the drums, healed and ready to go. Instead, a new member, Grant Snyder, was in his place, while Cobían was strapped with a guitar. He’s played guitar in the band before, but typically not for entire sets. If you follow him on Instagram, you may have been fortunate enough to witness posts of him phenomenally playing guitar, sometimes in an insane toque style. He’s now transcending that into the band’s work. His talents, just as the rest of the members’, truly hold no bounds. 

As soon as The Buttertones gave their final regards, a wave of pinups and psychobillies flushed forward, filing into every gap in the room. Reverend Horton Heat fans had years on those of us crowded for The Buttertones, so when they cleared the stage, we too cleared out to make room for those who reeked of moshing experience. 

Jim Heath (vocals, guitar) gave a very personalized moment to thank the two previous openers. He noted how special it was to have the opportunity to tour with The Paladins, for they have been a focal point in the band’s inspiration for years. Heath then thanked The Buttertones as well and brought light to the promising future the young, talented band has ahead. 

I hadn’t the slightest clue in what I was in for. I have never witnessed such brazen talent laden with such energy. If they weren’t pressed back to back with one another, they were standing atop a large bass simultaneously playing the bass and guitar. They began with their most well-known number, “Psychobilly Freakout,” evoking the energy half the crowd had been preserving for just the right moment. I can confidently say I’ve been converted and I’m getting my widow-peak bangs and poodle skirt ready for the next time they’re around. 

Article by Natalie Gott