There has been an outpouring of good feelings for Randy in Austin ~ his friends, fans, and fellow musicians are in a state of shock about his passing. RIP ~ Here are a bunch of pictures: link Big Boys Wreck collection: link
More! I found a backdoor into the Big Boys tribute site, bypassing the in memory page: http://www.soundonsound.org/index2.html stories: I saw them back in 1983 or so in a gallery basement in Connecticut, and they were by far the most badass and original hardcore band I had ever seen. I think I was playing in the Vatican Commandos at the time. I instantly ran up to Chris in the parking lot out back and told him how much I loved the band. It was horrible, because I didn't even have the $4 to buy the record. I vowed to see them again. I saw them again some time later with Rick Rubin's band, Hose, at Folk City - a place in Greenwich Village that wasn't used to seeing the likes of this punk powerhouse. I can't even describe them as punk or H/C- it was like seeing the MC5. Since there weren't a lot of girls playing H/C back then, Chris instantly recognized me at the show. I just wanted to run away to Texas. That's how blown away I was. -Lindsey Anderson (then Anna Wrecksia of the Vatican Commandos, now Kitty Kowalski of The Kowalskis) The Big Boys were kinda like when I was a kid with my first record player and first records sitting in my room and playing 'em over and over again and each time was better than the last. I don't listen to records much any more and, in fact, I never really had many of them to begin with. Vinyl is useless, really. But that first experience is priceless. Kinda like good Irish fiddling jumpstarting my emotions. Kicking 'em upside the head and the heart and knocking 'em down to the floor. Then someone else's emotions walk up, hold out a hand and help me back up. The Big Boys shows were a lot like that. -Spot Black Flag would pull in to town in some dying van. We would play with the Big Boys and sometimes The Dicks as well. Great gigs in Austin, always. I remember many times sleeping on the floors of assorted Big Boys places. Biscuit was one of the greatest frontmen ever, right up there with Gary Floyd, the singer of The Dicks. The Big Boys were always in good form and the sheer spirit of their live performances would fill the place and everybody would go nuts. They always gave up the funk. What a great band. -Henry Rollins Whenever the Big Boys performed it was, in many ways, like the L.A. riots * occasionally violent but always comical. "Stop fighting! Stop fighting!" Biscuit would plead while clad in some outrageous clown suit and doing the "pogo" ala pogo. And although their rocking music was never upstaged by themselves, their stage presence was always something to grin at. Their last show ever was a real riot, but that's a story too ticklish to tell. -Steve Anderson At the end of all those early shows the Big Boys would yell at the audience "O.K., ya'll go start your own band!" about a year later everybody at those shows was in a band. -Bill Daniel They're nice guys I wouldn't invite 'em over to my house or anything. -Glen Taylor The Big Boys played a hardcore matinee at CBGB in the early 80's and were fat, loud, funky and rumor has it, somewhat gay. Wow! They out hardcored every New York punker and macho skinhead in the joint. Along with Minor Threat, Faith, Butthole Surfers, and Black Flag they were the best live band of the era. The next day I saw the singer, Biscuit, selling his homemade jewelry on St. Marks place and he was really nice, and he was a skater. -Thurston Moore Yeah we borrowed their equipment it was kinda ****ty. -Buxf Parrot I thought I knew a whole lot, that I was a punk rock mother****er, but mid way through a spin of Industry Standard I realized I didn't know ****. -Mark Rubin The Big Boys: "without the taste of Spot's sperm" Nirvana, whatever you may think of them, made the top of the ******* charts. There are undoubtedly a lot of reasons why this happened. One of them is in your hands right now. The Big Boys were one of the key sparks in that first gush of bands who defined and made manifest the existence of distinct-but-somehow-connected pockets of punk bands in the false dawn that preceded the hardcore explosion. These bands were splattered across the U.S., living in defiance of the fashion rules being encoded by the pantheon of new-wave-c*m-junior-league douchebags who were then trying to prove to major labels that there was nothing for them to fear from (so-called) "punk acts". If these bands had not thrust their aesthetic fists right up the asses of the squares, we'd be living in a culture that's even more hellish than the one we've got. These were the happy days before the hardcore "happened" * before Black Flag embarked on those tours that lit a million fuses. There were good bands, but there was no way to connect the dots between D.O.A. in Vancouver, the Effigies in Chicago, the Misfits in New Jersey, Black Flag in Redondo, the Bad Brains in DC, and the Big Boys in Austin. These bands each had their uniquely great sound, and they produced records to prove themselves, but touring wasn't something anybody considered and distribution was even worse than it is now. Most of these combos wafted through the mists of legend then, as surely as they do now. If you didn't live in their backyard, they were little more than rumors that existed slightly outside the gates of reality. This was especially true of the Big Boys, whose earliest records * the "Frat Cars" 45 and Where's My Towel LP * were hard-to-find in the days when it was easy to pick up Hardcore '81 or Beware in almost any hip store's "import" bin. This comp goes a good way to correcting the access that the proles should have always had this stuff. The Big Boys were right in the line of great, ****ed-up Texas bands that extends from the 13th Floor Elevators straight through to tomorrow. They had sharp clothes sense, a host of butt-crushing power-chords, a solid jazz-bo back beat, and they swung like ****ing whales. It's just unfortunate that this isn't a video disc. Nothing can substitute for the visual punch provided by watching Biscuit shake his massive bootie, while Tim Kerr lurched like a guy hooked up for a last blast on the electroshock machine, Chris Gates loomed over the proceedings like the ominous skate b*stard he was. Still, being able to listen to this stuff at all is a ******* treat. And now you can do just that without having to suck-off Spot first. What a lucky day for you. Enjoy it. -Byron Coley The Big Boys were the band that everybody loved. Punks, Nu-wavers, and Rockers * everybody! It was always a big deal whenever they'd play * always a party. Randy Turner was (and is) a God * the God * "pray to him often" -Gary Floyd June 26, 1980 Honest advice (to a good drummer) If you're doing inferior songs it doesn't matter how much ENERGY you put into it: It's STILL an INFERIOR SONG! P.S. Try some Stones!!! or: the Rascals: "Good Lovin'! P.S.S. The Troggs did "Wild Thing" much better!! -Bud Flynn (formerly of Columbia Records and Tapes) Henry had met the Big Boys while on tour with Black Flag in 1981 and told me that they were really nice people. I knew them only through fanzines and their Live at Raul's split LP with the Dicks, but I called Tim about playing in Austin in the summer of 1982. This was Minor Threat's second attempt at a US tour (the first ended in Madison, WI, when angry parents demanded the return of the van we were using) and we were trying to play anywhere that would have us. We drove straight to Austin from Los Angeles, crossing the desert and blowing a tire just forty miles from our destination. Tim and Beth waited for us to get in before they left for work. It struck me as immensely cool that these people would let five strangers into their house and trust them enough to leave them there alone. I remember the air conditioner because it was impossibly hot outside. The concert was at the Ritz, the shell of a theater in the middle of the nightlife strip of Austin. The Dicks opened up and I immediately realized that we were in trouble. Here on stage was this enormous man with his head completely shaved except for a baby curl sticking out from the front of his head, with him were three guys who looked like they had just escaped from some chain gang * a different league altogether. I knew that we would have a difficult time getting up there after them, but nothing compared to the way I felt when the next band went on stage * the almighty Big Boys. I felt humiliated, how could we play after this? The Big Boys pulled out the stops. More enormous men, decorated in jump suits, food props, great songs, a horn section, 200 friends on stage singing and dancing... we were ****ed. We made it through our set, maybe it was a good one, I can't recall. I only remember the other bands. The next year we came back to Austin and did it right * we opened for the Big Boys. The way it should be. -Ian MacKaye I could never have had a "normal" life after the Big Boys. They did me the favor of showing me just how little I would have wanted that. -Beth Kerr If you told the Big Boys they were the best band in Texas, they would deny it, and rattle off a list of other great bands at the time (but they were of course just being modest). While therewas an amazing music scene happening in Texas, it's just that the Big Boys were at the very center of it. When they played a place like the Ritz Theater or Club Foot in Austin, it was packed with us all * crammed in, sweating, dancing, and having a great time. While many of their hardcore contemporaries simply tried to play faster and faster, the Big Boys followed their own directions. It's one reason their music still sounds great. Among other things, they were pioneers in blending funk with hardcore. At some of their bigger shows they would bring out full horn sections and play "Hollywood Swinging" or "The Horse" as well as any soul band on the planet (they even played with DC go-go treats Trouble Funk several times). In turn you would see the odd site of hundreds of kids in mohawks and Black Flag t-shirts all dancing away to Kool and the Gang covers. Besides being a great band, they were also great people. They actively set up shows, encouraged touring bands to play Austin, and generally did their best to make the "scene" in Austin and nationwide a great place to be. For example: - When the Big Boys took off on a national tour, Chris did the unthinkably nice thing and let the Butthole Surfers stay in his house and use the Big Boys' practice space. As a result, most of Another Man's Sac was written or refined in his garage. - The first show the Buttholes ever got paid for was a show the Big Boys invited them to play. It seemed virtually every band and everyone in Austin had a similar story of gratitude towards the Big Boys (here's mine: when I first moved to Austin and didn't really know anybody in town, Tim let me store stuff in his garage until I got settled * and I still probably have some rotting Tupperware lurking in the back corner of his garage). Perhaps the ultimate Big Boys song for me was "Fun, Fun, Fun". It reflected their attitude toward music and life, and was a virtual theme and anthem * not just for them, but for everybody at the time. When they'd play it, the stage would be filled with the crowd singing the chorus. True to form, when they recorded it, they invited everybody to come along and sing (in effect recognizing that Big Boys' fans were as much a part of the band as the musicians themselves). The Big Boys were a great band and I miss them. -King Coffey The Big Boys in motion were a freight train of leather, torn jeans, spilled draft beer and smeared lipstick, plowing through audiences mercilessly. Deafening, lightning quick funk riffs played at supersonic speed clashed with impromptu conga lines formed by a severely inebriated audience. The Big Boys were the creators of a post modern woodstock nation, slamming away at Kool and the Gangs' "Hollywood Swinging" while their mohawked and boot-chained cheerleaders trashed clubs gleefully. Entire bars turned into pogo-pits. Chairs flew, drinks dumped, people did the bump. Whack-a-delic, man. It was a frenzied Fun 'n' Punk Rock, anarchy, whatever. Hearing these songs now is beyond "Golden Oldies". It brings it all back * Biscuit in a tutu, Tim with his axe on the floor, the chaos. It's a waltz down memory lane in jackboots with a hangover. It's a necessary part of R 'n' R history. If you're an old fan, it'll make you grin like a Jack o' Lantern. If by any chance you never heard them before, turn the volume up real loud and fasten your seatbelt, mother****er * this is dangerously good stuff. -Pleasant Gehman "Fun, Fun, Fun" was the first Big Boys record I ever heard. When it was released in '82 I was a Junior in High School. My only previous knowledge of the Big Boys was from several true-fiction comicbook type stories in Thrasher magazine championing their exploits in the pre-skaterock era. The Big Boys were different from all the other really popular "Big" bands at the time, like the Dead Kennedys, Black Flag, Bad Brains, and the Circle Jerks. They weren't as scary, their music was more "fun" oriented (perhaps they could historically be considered a precursor to unbelievable crap like the Red Hot Chili Peppers or even Primus, yikes!), and in retrospect, most importantly they were musically a better band than the others. Hey, I still frequently listen to the Big Boys records, I can't say the same for the other groups. Me and all of my pals thought they were great. Hell, one of them even owned a Zorlac Big Boys Skateboard. My only chance to see them was in August of '83 at the Centro-American Social Club on Broadway here in Chicago. There was no way I was going to miss that show. Of course, I did. As it turned out, that was the day I was going to start "The Next Chapter of the Rest of my Life"; a College Education. **** that, I wanted to see the Big Boys. My friend Barry Stepe went to the show and had his face split open by a hormone OD-ing stage diver. Ten years later, I still say, "What a Great Band". -John Mohr Sometime after I arrived at college in 1980, I bought a couple of Big Boys records out of Wax Trax's budget bin. The staff at the store didn't know dick about anything other than euro-arty-queer music so the best records were often found in the dollar bin. One of the records had a goofy screen-printed cover that was so new wave it almost put me off, and the other had a preposterous skate/anarchy logo that equally spoke to me. In retrospect, I'm surprised I gambled the two bucks. Anyway, the Big Boys' peculiar split personality (one part Black Flag, one part Cameo) became part of the soundtrack to my college years and I found myself preaching to my friends about them regularly. When they played in Chicago I was front and center, transfixed by the brawling rhythm section of the stocky Chris Gates and the boyish Reynolds Washam and the twin weirdness of the oddly-haired alien guitar scientist Tim Kerr and the Titanic Randy "Biscuit" Turner, who reminded me of one of those tutu-clad dancing hippos from Fantasia. Santiago's Girlfriend Diane used to carry a cassette recorder everywhere, and she taped that show, concluding the tape by riding away on her vespa, a dimming 100-strong chorus of punk rockers singing "whoa-whoa" gradually being consumed by the sound of her motor. I remain convinced. -Steve Albini Years ago at Dischord house I remember Biscuit slaving in the kitchen all day, making chicken and dumplings for a big dinner. What a chef. Rey helped me till our entire backyard and landscape it all while they were in town. Chris and Tim and I would use each others' silkscreens to make funny pillowcases and such with Big Boys on one side and Minor Threat on the other. Tim was always eager to paint his anarchy A/skateboard graphic on anything that wasn't moving. When we would visit Austin they were amazing hosts, showing us skateboarding hot spots and introducing us to new spicy foods. The Big Boys were a great band with a genuine spirit and groove, very fun to sing along with and dance to. -Jeff Nelson Skaters don't have time for ****ty music. They'd rather trespass on private property or deface public curbs. Stuntwood commandos who get a thrill putting their life on the line look for music that means something, singers that aren't imitating someone else, lyrics that scream for you to listen, and tight grinding instrumental expressions. Swirling around in empty swimming pools, barreling down steep drainage canals, or performing sleight of foot on most level surfaces, nothing less than the most sincere sounds will do on a skater's quest for death or glory. The Big Boys provided the perfect charge for countless backyard bowl burlers from beyond. With soaring anthems of individuality, rebellious funky party songs and fast pounding voodoo rhythms, they played it with heart. A Big Boys' gig was a landmark event, done up rightly in true Texas fashion. Concerts indubitably became free-for-alls, with everybody and their sister flying, flailing and gyrating under the lights of the stage. "We got soul, let's take control," was the battle cry and it rings as true today as it ever did before. Bow To No Man, Brian Brannon I don't think I was in a band when I first heard the Big Boys. It was 1985 and I just remember dancing around like crazy in my room to these funky songs. Too bad I never got to see them live. Maybe it's good *I might have had a seizure. -Sooyoung Park The Big Boys played at the Cathey de Grande which later turned into the China Club. Everyone went to see them. Opening were the red Hot Chili Peppers, it was their second show. We thought they were some kind of joke band, the "Little Big Boys". When the Big Boys hit the stage the roof almost came off. Biscuit in dress, Tim playing through a broken reel to reel. Then they played "Hollywood Swinging" everybody went nuts. They ****ed **** up. -Skatemaster Tate I remember, somehow my friend Stacy Davis pulled off a total scam in high school * she said she wanted her band to play at this spring party on the campus * she said she played tambourine for the Big Boys (yeah right) but the school bought it and made them eligible to play in our sorry-ass high school parking lot one hot april afternoon. Of course they were late (well Rey Washam was late) and of course the authorities pulled the plug not even halfway through. But for maybe five songs I was blessed with the collision of my two worlds: a sea of gaping-mouthed fraternity bound jocks and their female equivalents watching the raw, funky, unapologetic euphoria that only the Big Boys could generate. It was like a high school Punk Rock fantasy come true. -Chris Levack 2 interlocking Haiku for Tim Kerr's Dreadlocks At punchline practice Biscuit, pink chiffon Ass-kicking attempts all paled Says "life is just a party" In the face of "No." Bruised from my couch-dives -Jay Robbins Going to Texas for the first time, it was '83 or '84. We didn't know what to expect. I imagined lots of driving through black nights and rattlesnake suns, lonely roads and dealing with redneck cops and ass-kicking punk-hating cowboys. I didn't expect to be with 500 or so other people sweating our butts off to the Big Boys. My brother remembers us waiting for them to play that "money song". It's all kind of blurred * meeting Tim Kerr and seeing all these bones and skulls at his house, Yikes! A Texas Bar-B-Que in Biscuit's frontyard, swimming at the Indian springs, getting laid outside in some park...Kick Ass! You can easily describe most bands but with the Big Boys it's a bit harder to explain their persona and sound. I'm sure to lots of people they mean a lot of things to, me, I'll just say Fun. I'm sorry to say I never saw her or the Big Boys again. -Pete Stahl Always fun. Although it's been said many times, they were way ahead of their time. The highest common denominators. -Jeff Newton
This is great stuff.... I caught the Big Boys at Spit (short lived) in Houston and later at #s. 'Twas pure mayhem for the most part; but as they tended towards, always fun. For some reason, I most remember being impressed by the loud racket their tiny amps made. Anything less than a Marshall stack was uncool back then, which of course, made me like them alot. Pasox2, I remember Joe Stars' Omni and the Island well. I thought I was the only one.
today's austin chronicle has the remainder of the interview with randy along with some testimonials from the (old school) austin music community. the end of the interview is chilling. i'm just posting this for the few out-of-towners that might care. randy has some pretty good advice for everyone, so read it if you can. the first part covers a lot of the early austin punk scene (the big boys), but the last half covers randy's philosophy on life. truly a priceless experience--knowing randy really changed my life. www.auschron.com (there's some photos if you visit the site) enjoy. True Today Randy 'Biscuit' Turner: the final interview BY MARC SAVLOV August 2005 photo by Todd V. Wolfson People assume I'd known Randy "Biscuit" Turner for years, that we'd been friends since Austin's punk rock heyday. I'd caught the last five or so Big Boys shows after arriving in town to attend the University of Texas in 1984, but I'd never actually met the man until a little over a month ago, when Jim "Prince" Hughes at Atomic City informed me that the legendary Big Boys frontman was preparing an art installation at the Space on Airport Boulevard. That show fell through, but the idea to do a story on Biscuit in the Chronicle didn't (it had been on the planner for years, I'm told). I suggested that the eclectic Pedazo Chunk Video store on South First might be just the place to restage his aborted art opening. Biscuit agreed, and over the next few weeks he very kindly welcomed me in his home for the series of interviews that resulted in last week's cover story. Enthroned in his overstuffed living room, nearly every inch of wall space covered with kaleidoscopic artwork, Biscuit spoke at length and with great warmth and evident pride about his wild life and wilder art in Austin, his adopted home since leaving Gladewater, Texas, in 1970. Over cans of soda pop, he treated me not like an intrusive journalist, but as though he'd known me for ages, reminiscing about the past and speculating about the future with a genuine twinkle in his eye. His enthusiasm was palpable and infectious. Biscuit was thrilled about his upcoming art show – he told Prince that he'd been working around the clock – so I thought it strange when he didn't return a phone call from me on Tuesday, Aug. 16, four days after local photographer Todd Wolfson and I spent an afternoon shooting pictures of his work in his back yard. He didn't own a cell phone, but he'd returned my previous calls right away. When Dannie Ramirez at Pedazo Chunk mentioned the following day that Biscuit hadn't shown up to install his art as promised, I began to worry. So did lots of other people, because when I stopped in at Atomic City Thursday morning to ask Prince if he'd seen Biscuit's mad-clown mug gracing the cover of the spanking-new Chronicle, he mentioned that he, too, hadn't been able to get hold of his friend all week and suggested I swing by Biscuit's home just to be on the safe side. I pulled up in front of Biscuit's house around 2:30pm on Thursday, Aug. 18, and knocked on the front door. No answer. I tried the knob. Locked. A FedEx package was sitting on his screened-in porch. Both his cars were in the driveway. His laundry dangled forlornly from a side-yard clothesline. It was sweltering out, and legions of neighborhood mosquitoes were eating me alive as I walked around to the back of Biscuit's home. The back door was closed but unlocked. I opened it and tentatively poked my head in, calling out his name. It was dark in there, and hot, and far too silent. For a moment, I thought about going in, but the rising hairs on the back of my neck said call the police. So I did. He was dead, the Medical Examiner ascribing the cause to "gastrointestinal hemorrhag[ing]" the next morning. As I write this, no one knows for sure, but the assumption is he'd probably been dead since Monday. He was supposed to have gone to Atomic City to chat with Prince that day, but he never showed up. The art show became a wake, and like the wild opening it should have been, it was a boisterous celebration of all things Biscuit. He would have loved it. What follows is the rest of the Chronicle's Randy "Biscuit" Turner interview, the parts that didn't make it into last week's issue. Barring some Big Boys break-up stories he expressly designated off-the-record and a few tangential side-trips about cars and other conversational ephemera, these are the final musings of one of Austin's most celebrated residents. Rest in peace, Biscuit. Austin Chronicle: You moved to Austin from Gladewater in 1970. Biscuit: I moved here in the summer of 1970 after meeting my friend Swivel at the Atlanta Pop Festival. I hitchhiked up from Gladewater, Texas, to Macon, Georgia, standing on the side of the road in Selma, Alabama, hoping not to get killed by the rednecks that kept driving by shooting us the finger. We were totally flying our freak flags at that point, but luckily we managed to catch a ride in a station wagon that had originated in Austin with nine others. So it was Texas people who picked us up in Alabama and saved our lives. AC: What were you doing back then? B: All through the Seventies I just was having fun, hitchhiking out to Lake Travis to go skinny dipping in between working regular jobs. I worked at Taco Bell for a while. I worked at a sand-casting iron foundry for a little bit. I worked at a florist. After that, I was just floating. Back then I shared a house with a friend and my half of the rent came to $27.50. In 1976 I met Steve Saugey and Noel Alford, who went on to help form Esther's Follies early on. We did a big Bicentennial musical parody called Microwaves, which got me back on stage for a while. In high school and college I'd been in dramatic and comedy shows, and in fact, our high school play, Don Marquis' Archie & Mehitabel, went to state and won state. That's where I got my love of performing. That made me feel real good about who I was, so when Esther's started up shortly after I met Steve and Noel, they would call me in and I'd do a couple of songs. AC: How did the whole Big Boys/skateboarding thing come along? B: I'd always been into skateboarding and all that really hit back in '77. That was my big thing back then, getting with my bros and going skateboarding. We had the central Austin crew, and after the Big Boys formed, we became the first band in the world to have our own signature skate deck from [Dallas-based skateboard company] Zorlac. They're pretty rare now. If you have an original one in pretty good shape it can be worth anywhere from $700 to $1,000. As for the Big Boys, I met up with Chris [Gates], who had been in a high school band that played soul covers and did some original soul-type things, and Tim [Kerr], who had only played folk guitar before. When we formed the Big Boys, they literally flipped a coin to see who would play guitar and who would play bass, and Tim won guitar, which in the end was probably a good thing because Tim's ability to do various genres of music made us even more quirky, whereas Chris was more of a rock & roller. And it just clicked. We were really fortunate. We presented something different. So many of the songs on the Big Boys records are vastly off-the-wall from everything else that was going on at the time, and I think our attitude had a lot to do with it. One of the main things that really pushed the Big Boys – and I'll be giving them credit for this for the rest of my life – is [skateboard periodical] Thrasher Magazine. They really took us under their wing. The Big Boys were the first band in America that came out and announced that we formed because we were skateboarders and we already had songs about skating within the first three sets that we ever played in our lives. When we would go to California, when we were at the revered Whiskey a Go-Go opening for X, I'd be wearing a plain white jumpsuit which I'd pull off a few songs in to reveal a huge ballerina outfit on underneath. And all these people in L.A would be going, "What the ****?" But, you know, they'd like us because of the attitude. The barriers were completely broken down between audience and performer. I expect you to be as goofy as I am and the whole entire event would happen to the max of our ability to have fun. We had such magic moments getting involved with all the Thrasher people, and JFA, and Ill Repute, and Drunk Injuns – all those guys. That was the most hardcore, craziest crowd in America at that time, the hardcore skaters, and man, we were right in there. We would go to San Francisco and they would come out in droves and just flock to us. I've always equated that sort of fan base to just being really lucky. I also worked my ass off, but I wasn't anything special like the golden cheese or anything. I was just trying to have fun, and it showed in the fact that we had a bit of natural, innate ability – like a lot of musicians do. We just put it in a combination that spelled F-U-N. AC: The Big Boys had a great sense of humor. B: Right, we didn't take ourselves so pretentiously that we couldn't laugh at ourselves, either. I think that helped out a lot. When Tim used to say from the stage, "Now go start your own band," he meant that! And he still means that so much to this day. I've had hundreds of kids come up to me and testify and say, "Man, on that album [1982's Fun, Fun, Fun] it says, 'Now go start your own band,' and I did go start my own band!" When I hear that I'm like, "Can I die now? My life has been completed," you know? I am complete! So I'm very honored by the fact that as the Big Boys we got to do something and the public recognized it. What I was doing was only what I really liked to do. It wasn't a planned existence. It was just me having fun. AC: The other amazing thing about the Big Boys was how you could get all those young punk rockers skanking to songs like Kool & the Gang's "Hollywood Swinging." You really created that whole funk/punk subgenre. B: Well, we could play just as fast as the fastest band out there, but then we'd turn right around and play funk stuff and I'd watch those same crazy mohawks that were so hardcore start boogalooing! And I thought, "Wow, I changed your attitude for a moment, we're dancing, we're having fun, nobody's being hurt, and your looking at your friends grooving around you with the biggest smiles on their little punk rock faces." I think that kind of love is universal. It comes out of the band and goes into the audience and, you know, what you put out is going to come back to you a thousandfold. AC: The whole Austin punk rock scene was a lot more centralized and inclusive back then, too, right? Less regimented and more free-form ... B: Sure, but by the time the Big Boys were winding down things were beginning to change. It wasn't like punk and Oi anymore. It was that weird time in the mid-Eighties when people were going to the Beach [now the Crown & Anchor Pub] and hanging out there. And that may have been a good thing, since it seemed to be going back to where the Austin punk scene had been originally, which like you say was a much more diversified and inclusive type of scene without the Doc Martens punk rock dress code. Sometimes we embraced some of that, too, though, because we'd go out to L.A. on tour and absorb some of the punk scene out there and come back to Austin with the studded belts and handkerchiefs tied around our boots and all that. But we still continued to write more funk music and more odd rock & roll and never accepted that hardcore norm of just having unintelligible lyrics and playing as fast as you can over that same repetitive beat, because, you know, Austin didn't start out that way. It started out with so many diversified acts and only later did the idea emerge that you had to be this type of "punk" to be cool or whatever. Between me and Chris and Tim's different personalities we won a tremendous amount of people over. Those guys were great as far as making friends with everyone immediately, from one end of this continent to the other. Wherever we went, we'd go skate the ditches with people like Minor Threat, the rocket hills and parking garages of San Francisco, and we gained unbelievable notoriety through that as well as the music. I've kept in touch with so many of the people we met back in those days, too. It's neat that I still have all those people that care about my life. For years I didn't care about my life, and that was really sad because now I know I have so much to offer. I went into a frightful depression for a while and then I pulled myself up and said, "Well, Randy, it's only you that's gonna save your life. You can sit and mope the rest of your days, or you can make something happen that entertains you and makes the joy in your heart be as great as it can be." I think that's what life is supposed to be, an open communal thing to share. AC: Do you think that's attributable to the whole "Keep Austin Weird" artistic vibe we have here? B: Well, Austin's been a great home to me. I really think once I got to Austin I suddenly realized that I wasn't alone in this vast sea of normalcy. There are other people like me who are artists, who have weird houses, who think different, who dress different, who say it's okay to be different. Whereas before I'd gone, "Oh, I've got to hide. I can't wear anything weird so I don't become stigmatized or something." I couldn't care less now. I am the man that I am and I am proud of who I am. I'll wear a cowboy outfit and look like Roy Rogers in a second, but I'll slip a nice little muu-muu over that and wear it downtown. I'm not scared of the world. I'm not scared of me anymore, and I'm happy as a lark to be alive and to be still producing and to have a mind that cares to still produce. And the fact that I've got such an incredible circle of friends that challenge me, first off, by their prowess, and then the many, many who encourage me. The ones who challenge me I admire the most because sometimes I just pale in comparison to the abilities of some of my peers. I am so proud of them. Austin has that incredible fortune to have all those people here in the middle of Texas. It wasn't always the way it is now with all the kids wearing hip-hop clothes and the advent of MTV and dying their hair. Kids nowadays have no idea how easy it is to be weird now. I'll tell you what, your fathers and mothers and people like myself, we rode that fine line of being beat the hell out of because we chose to be different. And it's so accepted now to just be odd. You don't see the frats fighting the punks these days. You can go buy the most wigged-out plaid pants at the mall now. I give credit to those kids who are buying it and are wearing it as a statement to say, "I am somebody different." I'm so proud of all the goth kids and all the industrial punks. I'm so proud of those people because they choose to step outside of the normal lines – even their own peers' normal lines at age 16 to 22 – and that takes a lot of guts and a lot of fortitude to say, "I am somebody and you will not tear me down. I am beautiful." AC: Your artwork is unlike anyone else's. B: I feel like my stuff has merit. It's more of a cartoon slant – as is my life – and yes, it is junk, but it's intricately put-together junk. It's all subjective. I don't expect everybody to walk up to it and say it's really cool, because a lot of people may just not like that style of art the same way there's some things I just can't stand. Whatever. I don't direct people's lives nor their minds, and if they don't like it, I'm sorry, but I'm sure trying hard. At least have an opinion on it. Don't be a Tater Tot. Even if you don't like my art, at least have an opinion and be thinking about it. I always hope everyone does like what I do, because I try so hard to make people happy, along with myself. And I hope the artwork I make, the colorfulness of it, the assemblages that they are, brings a smile to people when they see it. A lot of people do tell me that, so in some degree I'm winning. AC: Is there an official Biscuit Philosophy of Life? B: Get up in the morning, look in the mirror, and say "I love myself." Look your friends in the eye and say "I love you." Do it this very moment. Just say "I love you." That's all you can do, just reassure each other that we are somebody and that if we are to leave today then you've left a goodness about you. We have to think something positive every waking moment of our lives. I'm nobody other than someone who just got lucky for a moment. I've gotten to do some fun things and I've worked really hard, but I've also been very, very lucky. And had the spirit inside myself to get up there and put myself on the line. I've made a wonderful career out of my absurdity, and so many people in this city know me as being somebody that's off-the-wall. I hope I've been off-the-wall in a good way. We all slip into negativity sometimes and I do, too, but I know I must control that and try to be as pure in my heart as I can to my friends and my peers and those who've never met me. Because I may meet today for the first time in my life the person that's the most golden person that I've been looking for forever. You just have to accept that. That's fate. And hopefully those people come along every once in a while that change you and change your outlook for life. AC: Any final thoughts? B: I'd just like to tell everybody to believe in yourself. I know that's so clichéd, but just do something that you're proud of inside so that when you think about your life you know you're doing something good to help yourself and to help other people. That's so little to have to worry about. And it all just stems from being a good person inside and realizing that other people's emotions are steered by your thoughts and mannerisms. Don't dwell on things of the past. A great friend of mine, Dixon Coulbourn [of online Austin punk archive Idle Time, ccwf.cc.utexas.edu/~edge/idle_time/index.php], died recently, and losing friends makes it all so true: You've got to go on, and you've got to be happy. It's sad, though, I'll guarantee you. I want to die by ****ting my pants while sitting on a rocker at the old folks home at the age of 92. I'll give a grunt and just go out. Or I'd like to die in my sleep having just skateboarded a cool ramp or just got to see Minor Threat get back together. Something positive like that. I hope to get to continue making wonderful music 'til the day I breathe my last breath. I have a joy and a fever to make things happen. And it's all so simple. Just get up and go: I'll be true today. I'll do what I'm supposed to do and not take the easy way out. Do what you're supposed to do. We've got a magic place here, so use Austin for the wonderful place that it is. And go start your own band. end story photo by Todd V. Wolfson A memorial service is scheduled for Randy Turner in his home town of Gladewater, Texas, this Saturday. All who wish to attend in support of his mother Nellie Turner and his family are welcome. The family wishes to express their heartfelt thanks to all his friends for their support. The service will be held: Saturday, Aug. 27, at 7pm Grace Baptist Church 212 E. George Richey Rd. (FM 2275) Gladewater, TX 75647 Arrangements are made through: Croley Funeral Home 401 N. Center St. Gladewater, TX 75647 903/845-2155 TCB BY CHRISTOPHER GRAY Nathan, Chris, and Andrew Gates photo by Todd V. Wolfson Bye Bye, Biscuit The party went on as planned, but minus the guest of honor. Randy "Biscuit" Turner's scheduled art opening Friday evening at South First video store Pedazo Chunk became instead his wake when the flamboyant local singer, artist, poet, collector, and raconteur died sometime last week at his South Austin home. Biscuit gave his age as 56 years old. The first red flag went up when Turner failed to deliver his artwork to Pedazo Chunk, and Marc Savlov, who wrote last week's Chronicle cover story on him, went to his house Thursday afternoon and found it quiet and dark. Savlov alerted police, who found the body inside (see "True Today," p.64). Biscuit confidante Jim "Prince" Hughes, left photo by Todd V. Wolfson While the exact time of death remains unknown, the Travis County Medical Examiner's Office's preliminary report puts the cause of death as gastrointestinal hemorrhaging resulting from cirrhosis of the liver. He was known to have hepatitis C and diabetes, but his friends and family contend Turner was not a heavy drinker. "He always asked for cranberry juice," said Josh Chalmers of Oh, Beast!, who shared the bill at Turner's final onstage appearance, with new band the Texas Biscuit Bombs, July 23 at Room 710. For an update on the ME's findings see "Postmarks." At the wake, a giant sheet of paper labeled "Biscuit Timeline" covered one entire door, and people lined up to write memories and messages. Some wept, while others passed around joints rolled from Turner's own stash. Inside, a video of Turner leading Honky through ZZ Top's "Heard It on the X" ran on continuous loop. Rollerblade's Fritz Blaw distributed Biscuit trinkets at the wake. photo by Todd V. Wolfson "It was a pleasure to work with the man but more of a pleasure to know him," said Honky's Jeff Pinkus. "When he felt good, it was contagious. Damn, he'll be missed." What seemed like the entire Austin music scene – SXSW directors, Red River club owners, Turner's old bandmates, and friends too numerous to mention – turned up to remember Biscuit. Thanks to the keg out back and the Pecan Food Mart next door, the initial hushed tones gradually became lively conversations punctuated by frequent laughter. Flipnotics owner Mark Kamburis once gave Turner a mint condition Big Boys LP and got a purple plastic pig in return. Texas Biscuit Boys final performance at Room 710 photo by John Anderson "He told me, 'When I get a gift, I like to give one back,'" Kamburis said. Friday night, Biscuit kept right on giving. photo by Todd V. Wolfson The Big Boy Punkaroos singer Dotty Farrell (pictured) played with Biscuit in Swine King and remembers her dear friend. "He meant the world to me," she says. "I am not sure where or how to begin ... the loss is so immense, the sadness so profound. As I write this, I am reminded of how it was always Randy who could somehow always find the perfect words to help us all understand and find a way through the sad and difficult times. There are no words to say how much he is missed. There's a giant hole in the heart of Austin. I still can't believe he is really gone. I miss him so much my heart could pop. "We first met at a Big Boys show at Nightlife just after I arrived in Austin in June 1983. I knew no one when I moved here. He was so funny and friendly and accessible. It meant a lot that he actually remembered me and always talked to me. In hindsight, I guess he was my first real friend in Austin. "I was blown away by the Big Boys. The shows were amazing, the music irresistible, and the words and ideas inspiring and empowering. Randy always made us proud to be different and encouraged us to go out and make the world a more fun and better place. He really embodied so many of the things that made Austin the only place to be. Over the years, we shared a special bond that made us "partners in crime" – creating art, making costumes, playing music, performing in theatre productions, working together, and just plain having the time of our lives hanging out. "I am so fortunate to have had in my lifetime such a thoughtful, loving, wonderful friend. As long as we are alive he will always be alive in our hearts. Now, go out and make Austin weirder ... he would want it that way!" photo by Mary Sledd Smile Like You Mean It Las Vegas retro-rockers the Killers don't seem to mind that the runaway success of last year's Hot Fuss has painted a big hipster bulls-eye on their backs, not when selling out venues like Stubb's in two hours. The stage set, complete with risers, resembled a Vegas showroom, and the band, doll-like singer Brandon Flowers (pictured) and animated drummer Ronnie Vanucci especially, played to the back row of the crowd like Siegfried & Roy. Instead of white tigers, however, it was song after song loaded with hooks and oozing decadent allure: "Jenny Was a Friend of Mine," "Smile Like You Mean It," "Andy You're a Star." The Killers have taken a lot of flak for their liberal appropriations of Eighties music, but they do steal from the best: the colorful keyboards of the Cure and Alphaville; the taut, wiry guitars of U2; and the whooshing bass and drums of New Order. Their vivid minidramas of jealousy and obsession still sound like nothing else on either Pitchfork or TRL, and it's unlikely Bloc Party could generate the kind of charge that shot through the crowd when Dave Keuning's guitar squelched out the first few notes of breakthrough single "Somebody Told Me." And when the gospel chorus of finale "All These Things That I've Done" began to crescendo, the Mt. Olivet Baptist Church choir from that afternoon's Austin City Limits taping was absent, but the audience filled in just fine. Bullet the Blue Sky Allen Damron, performer and co-founder of the Kerrville Folk Festival, passed away from pneumonia complications Aug. 13 at his home in Terlingua. Damron, 66, also performed regularly at the Texas Folklife Festival, appeared in 11 movies, and was featured in Jim Gramon's recent book Famous Texas Folklorists and Their Stories. In the late 1960s, the Raymondville native managed the Chequered Flag on Lavaca Street, a club pivotal in the development of the so-called "Austin sound" of singer-songwriters like Jerry Jeff Walker, Gary P. Nunn, and countless others. An Eagle Scout and lifelong NRA member, Damron was named a "Goodwill Ambassador to the World" by the Texas Legislature in 1986, and is survived by wife Marie and numerous family members. Memorial services are planned for Saturday at Miss Tracy's in Terlingua and Sept. 4 on Chapel Hill in Kerrville. Austinite and sometime Meat Puppet Curt Kirkwood will release his first-ever solo album, SNOW, Sept. 27 on Little Dog Records. Little Dog is owned by former Dwight Yoakam guitarist/producer Pete Anderson, who produced SNOW and the Puppets' 1991 LP, Forbidden Places. Blind item of the week: Last week at Threadgill's World Headquarters, an inebriated patron decided to tickle the ivories of the piano in the lobby, and, before an entire dining room of onlookers, was promptly Tasered by an off-duty police officer who happened to be eating dinner. Nice to see the zap-happy APD is expanding its electrifying activities beyond the city's minority neighborhoods.
the memorial show is coming up soon. i figured i'd post the new link to "his" site so y'all could check it. the list of bands playing is pretty impressive (if you are/were ever into old school punk.) maybe i'll see some of y'all at the show on sunday. www.randybiscuitturner.com
