There’s an entire generation of surfers who can’t remember exactly what year it was when their dad walked out — but play the soundtrack from whichever Taylor Steele film was new at the time, and it all comes back. Bad Religion kicks in, and suddenly they’re 15 again and hiding weed in the Sticky Bumps box. It’s fair to say, Taylor Steele had a greater influence on millennial and late Gen-X surfers than 90’s era fathers.
In light of the Solento Surf Festival this week, we got two Americans named Taylor to sit down at a Burleigh cafe to see whose accent was more abrasive to the local laptopers — it was no surprise that T.S. was extremely polite and well-spoken, after all. He drinks an almond flat white, by the way.
This is the inaugural year of the festival coming to Australia. It’s been running for the past four years in Taylor’s hometown of Encinitas, CA. The film festival segment kicks off this week — you can peep the lineup and get tickets here.
You’re no stranger to Australia, obviously. You even lived in Byron for six years. Are you as deeply connected to the music scene here as you are to the punk scene in Southern California?
I’m super connected to Australian music. I love it. When I was living in Byron, I did this artist residency with Corona, and we had everybody from Temper Trap, Angus and Julia Stone, Wolf Mother and Spiderbait all stay there. And so I got to meet a lot of the cool musicians in Australia, and we have relationships still to this day.
What about Australian punk? It seems to have its own flavor.
Well, back in the 90s, we included Bodyjar and some other bands in that space. Even Silver Chair was maybe a little bit punk, but more rock and roll, I guess.
I would say Australian music is leading the way with a lot of stuff, but I don’t know if punk rock’s top of mind anymore. There’s obviously Fisher and the DJ side — there are so many good ones, like Flight Facilities, too. And then the indie scene: Dope Lemon and such. All my favourite bands feel like they’re in the Australian genre. But punk rock, I don’t know if there’s much desire for new punk rock because there are so many good bands still touring. But maybe I’m a little out of touch with the new ones.
Your earlier films encapsulated a really distinct era of SoCal punk. It’s so nostalgic for a lot of us. Do you still see all those guys, beyond just Pennywise pop-up shows?
Yeah, I see the guys from Pennywise and the guys from Blink all the time. And Unwritten Law. They’re more-so social circles now, but yeah. If there’s a good band from that genre playing, I’ll be there.
Speaking of Blink-182: Do you get roped into Tom DeLonge’s alien obsession? Do you believe they exist, too?
Haha. I don’t believe as far into it as Tom does, but I do believe there’s probably something else out there. Tom’s very specific on what he’s saying — that the interaction with aliens are happening on the daily. I’m not there yet… When we travelled way back in the day for one of my movies, Good Times, he was always reading books on aliens and UFOs.
Gotcha. Your line of work involves working alongside two very different brain types — elite athletes and creatives. How do you like to wrangle that?
Yeah, well, elite surfers are like these race cars, right? They’re working towards everything to be at the highest performance level. And so my first films were all about high performance. I was sacrificing the filmmaking side of it — if I got a good wave on video and the horizon was crooked, I would still use it, even though it made me look bad as a filmmaker.
Sometimes I’d see them on a magic board, but then they would put it away when we’d go to shoot. So there’s always a tension point with contests and video — saving their best performance for the contest and not the video.
But as far as the conversation side of it, it’s all about trying to inspire them to be a part of your project. I remember talking to Andy Irons about Sipping Jetstreams, and he just didn’t get it. Didn’t like the name, and just was like, ‘this is so slow.’ He was more excited about the campaign film that was around that time. And so I’d be like, ‘well, we’re shooting for both films.’ And so you sort of figure out how to maneuver their interests.
Yeah, so you’re fully a director with these guys. I think I heard you say once — and maybe this has changed — but that you never gave Kelly Slater a compliment?
Right. I guess I consider myself like a Phil Jackson coaching the Bulls. Kelly would be equivalent to Michael Jordan, and maybe Machado like Scottie Pippen. My job was to motivate their best performance and sort of trigger what worked for each surfer, and treat each surfer differently. Kelly would get so many compliments all the time that he didn’t really like it. So I had to be more critical to sort of push him so that he was driven towards his best.
What would motivate Rob Machado?
Rob was more motivated by seeing and understanding his whole section and how it fit. He was very understanding of the whole process, and he definitely thinks like a creative. He likes to see where the whole picture comes together.
Other surfers, like Shane Dorian, liked to see where Kelly was and see some of his clips and try to get to his level. So I would drop some clips of Kelly by accident and show Shane, like, ‘oh, we’ve got these clips, I guess I could show you…’ and then that would elevate some of the other guys.
Who’s been the most difficult to direct? Anyone with a wall up that you couldn’t figure out?
The Cooly Kids were tough in the early days. Parko, Mick and those guys were a little tougher because they would just go surf Snapper and get their clips. They were never used to putting energy and focus into videos. I was trying to get their level to where I needed it, but they were just like, ‘oh, yeah, we’ll get it.’
Working with Andy and Bruce Irons, there were moments when they were super high-maintenance and hard to work with. Andy was super easy to work with when it was my movie. But when it was a Billabong movie, he was hard to work with because he felt like, ‘they’re just obligated to put me in.’ And so it changed the dynamics of how hard he’d work at it. If he had to earn his spot in the movie, he’d work super hard.
Do you have any anxieties or opinions about the way social media is now — how it’s about fast content and less long-form?
I don’t get anxiety about change. Change is something that’s always going to happen. I was part of a change that probably upset filmmakers from the previous generation who were shooting on 16 millimeter, and I was shooting video. Change is how you interpret it and can use it in a medium that feels fresh and inspires people. But as far as content, it’s an interesting stage of trying to create an emotional story in a really short form. And on the flip side, there are these 10-hour TV shows that are really long form that almost feel like one movie. There’s more range, but there’s just not really the 40-minute surf film anymore.
The part where I feel blessed is that my films would sit with somebody for a lot longer and would have a deeper connection than what’s made today. A lot of people are working on things that are incredible, and then the thing is forgotten the next day. So it’s more like appreciating what I had in the past in that way.
It’s much more fun to watch a film at a festival than it is at home. What are you most looking forward to in terms of the film screenings?
We have three nights of surf films — they’re all different and none of them are mine. They’re all made by amazing filmmakers. Some are storytellers, some are action-based. Vaughan Blakey’s got two films: an old one, Doped Youth, which is a cult classic. Then he’s got a new one called Dunno with the Ripcurl groms.
I’ve worked with Vaughan a bunch. He’s talented and has a funny brain. We’re gonna do a fun thing with Doped Youth where Ozzie Wright’s gonna be part of the interview, and he’s gonna give away a piece of his original art to whoever dresses in the best Doped Youth costume.
Vaughan and Ozzie — pretty iconically Australian choices.
Exactly. We’re really excited to be doing this here. We’re committed to having the festival for the next three years here in Burleigh. That’s with the town of Burleigh and Gold Coast Tourism.
Australia is really on top of it with their surf events, aren’t they? The Gold Coast, especially. They fund surfing like nowhere else.
Yeah, it’s so much more elevated over here. For me, that’s a goal. When I started out, surfers were perceived as losers in a Spicoli sort of tone. I wanted to bring a professional side to it, like with Kelly and his clean-cut sort of tone. Then maybe it went a little too far — a little too jockish or too clean cut. But it naturally balances itself out. Now, I want to bring an elevated, premium sort of experience to the festival. We’re working with the Mondrian, with Experience Gold Coast, Land Rover… Everything’s top-notch.
Why the Gold Coast for this festival and not a more arts-friendly surf town, like Byron?
It’s the same reason why we do it in Encinitas: both towns have a real surf culture but are not necessarily entrenched in the arts/film/music scene. I lived in New York for a while and was missing that when I went back to Encinitas. The attempt is to add that type of value to the area. Byron has a lot of those elements already, where Burleigh doesn’t have it as deeply. So maybe it will inspire a young surf kid to make a film, or some art, or start a band.
I don’t know about you, but I feel like the calibre of surfing here is even higher than in Southern California. You can’t manage the crowds in the same way because nobody falls, and they all make every section.
I agree with that. There are so many kooks in California.
Which is a tougher lineup: Seaside, where you surf at home, or Burleigh?
Seaside is super competitive and all the best surfers are from there, but definitely it’s Burleigh that’s tougher for me because I didn’t grow up here. Being a blow-in, I’m just trying to find my little space where I’m not getting in the way. I also feel like Australians surf well on shortboards until late in their age. In California, after a certain age they transition into a longboard and then they’re just cruising and surfing softer waves. But here, like I was just out at D-Bah, and it was like, hassling guys 20 years older than me who were like catching good ones on shorter boards than me.
You’re the founder of Solento Tequila. The people are saying it’s real smooth. But who likes tequila more: Australians or Californians?
Australians are catching up. New Yorkers have been drinking it the way I like it, which is on the rocks. Californians have been drinking it with margaritas for so long that they don’t really notice the tequila quality. Everybody’s starting to shift towards premium tequila, compared to the cheap hangover stuff you have to chase with a lime. But Australians are ahead of the curve on drinking it properly.
Australians also have a reputation for being the country that can drink all the others under the table. But around here, they’re all in bed by 9 PM. What’s the story with that?
There’s definitely an earlier culture here, especially in the winter. New York is like, midnight onwards.
More so than other places, though, Australians will actually drink most people under the table. When I was working with Corona doing their marketing over here, Australia was the third biggest country for sales behind the US and Mexico. The small population just doesn’t warrant those numbers… So back then, at least (this is maybe 10 years ago), they were even drinking Europe under the table. But maybe it’s just more day drinking — I feel like every restaurant and bar around here is packed full at sunset time.
I wonder if they’ll take pride in reading that.
Yeah. Well, they drink it right. I’m just hoping everybody doesn’t go too hard tonight. Some people have asked for hotel rooms. I’m like, ‘well, you’ve got a heat the next day – pace yourself.’ But Australians are tough like that.
