Half an hour into “Strictly Sacred” – an intimate and engaging new documentary about Tacoma garage-punk band Girl Trouble – drummer Bon Henderson, a.k.a. Bon Von Wheelie, shares a few questions she's been e-mailed by some clueless reporter.
“Tell me the saga of Girl Trouble, one of the forgotten bands of the Northwest music scene,” she reads. “Girl Trouble ended. Where did you all go next? What’s been keeping you occupied?”
Henderson is not amused. “All right, buddy, we’re still around,” she says. “As pathetic as that is, we are still around.”
Girl Trouble – also singer Kurt Kendall, bassist Dale Phillips and Henderson's guitar-playing baby bro, Bill “Kahuna” Henderson – is alive and well, as the dedicated cult that still follows the band knows; but the aforementioned scene gets to the heart of the group’s ambiguous legacy.
Sure, Girl Trouble has been “eluding fame since 1984,” as the band's cynical slogan goes. They looked on from the sidelines as peers cashed in during the grunge explosion of the early '90s. But you can hardly say the band has been “forgotten.” Girl Trouble has influenced regional rock in ways that often get overlooked, from their days as early stars on the rosters of K and Sub Pop records to their undying support of the regional do-it-yourself rock scene.
“Strictly Sacred” will make its debut on May 26 during the Seattle International Film Festival, with screenings at 5 p.m. at SIFF Cinema Uptown, 511 Queen Anne Ave. N., in Seattle, and 8:30 p.m. at Renton IKEA Peforming Arts Center, 400 S. Second St. The movie, directed by Isaac Olsen, paints a portrait of four lovable rock misfits that made a difference not by touring the globe, but by staying firmly rooted in the community they so obviously love.
“Other bands, their ambitions exceeded the confines of their actual life,” says popular graphic artist Art Chantry says in the film. “I really admire the determination to stay put. That took guts.”
The Girl Trouble story begins with Bon, a self-proclaimed “weirdo” and kind of a precursor to the punk feminism Bikini Kill and Bratmobile would take to the masses years later.
“I promise to never wear lipstick at any time in my life,” she says, reading vows jotted down in sixth grade. “I promise to never wear high heels, have my hair done up or wear dresses. I promise never to like boys, except for the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and Manfred Mann. And, most of all, I promise never to get married. Signed, Bonnie Henderson.”
Born on the day the Beatles played “The Ed Sullivan Show” in 1964, Kahuna was all but doomed to play rock n’ roll. In a series of family photos, we see him transform from a nerdy kid whose hobby is making “Star Trek” phasers to a surly punk-rocker with hipper fixations.
“I remember pulling out this Ramones record, and they looked just like I did,” he recalls, laughing. “My personality just changed. ... I just got real mean, and I wanted to fight everybody.”
He teams up with mild-mannered Dale when he wants to start a band. Bon manages to wedge her way into the mix after buying a thrift store drum kit. “I didn’t ask Bill would this be okay,” she recalls. “I just bought it and set it up.”
The missing ingredient is Kendall, a tall, affable scenester from Spokane the Hendersons first encountered on some weird night at Bob’s Java Jive. “Kurt would be the funnest guy at a party,” Bill recalls. “We were like, ‘That guy has gotta get in a band, and we hope it’s ours.’”
The quartet plays its first sets at an infamous 56th Street party house that was ground zero for the local punk scene in 1983, before it was raided by the cops. “I lived there once from three months, and I could not take it,” Kurt recalls in one of the film's funnier moments. “Some chick would be crashed out in my bed, passed out. It’s like, ‘Is she alive? Who’s not doing heroin in this place?’”
The band officially becomes Girl Trouble, switching from Boneyard in time for a battle of the bands held on March 9, 1984 at Fort Steilacoom Community College (currently Pierce College).
Dale jokes about a dynamic that took shape back then and persists to this day: “Bon’s the mom. Bill and Kurt are her two kids; and I’m the kid who lives down the street."
Olsen is the Hendersons' nephew and a longtime Girl Trouble collaborator which helped him get his hands on loads of great concert footage, photos and rare recordings that he skillfully weaves together to cover all of the band's long and storied career.
There’s grainy video from Jim May’s Community World Theater, a short-lived but legendary Tacoma venue that served as a launching pad for Girl Trouble, Nirvana and others, in 1987 and 1988. We see alt-country star Neko Case go-go dance onstage with the band; she was the band's pal when she lived in Tacoma, years before she appeared on NPR or "Letterman." And, of course there’s lots of the late Sylvia Eads, a.k.a. Granny Go Go. She's the eccentric old lady who became a local celebrity dancing on “Stu Martin’s Late Date at the Movies” in the ‘60s. Later, she became a staple at Girl Trouble shows, and her appearances in the film are both hilarious and touching.
In “Strictly Sacred,” Olsen has delivered a substantial film that deserves a wider audience. Granted, there are some priceless “inside baseball” moments that play much better at home. If you’ve followed Girl Trouble or spent much time in Tacoma and Olympia rock clubs, it's must-see viewing. Keep your eyes peeled; you may spot yourself dancing in the crowd.
“Strictly Sacred: The Story of Girl Trouble,” will make its world premier on May 26 at the Seattle International Film Festival with screenings at 5 p.m. at SIFF Cinema Uptown, 511 Queen Anne Ave. N., in Seattle, and 8:30 p.m. at Renton IKEA Peforming Arts Center, 400 S. Second St., in Renton. General admission tickets are $12. See http://www.siff.net/festival-2014/strictly-sacred for further details.