Did you miss yesterday’s world premiere of the thirty-minute film Wade Goodall and Shane Fletcher made for their Daddy Vans?
Yeah, me too, standing there waiting for the thing to start, looking bewildered, Tanner Gudauskas telling me to stick it out etc.
The last time I spoke to Wade was five years or so ago, when he lit up on various topics, including Teahupoo, “When it’s big is a siren of sorts. It lures you in. It must be a woman. When you see it, you want it but it scares you. She will either give you the ride of your life or kick you in the nuts. My favourite wave in the world for sure” and staying relevant away from the tour, “I don’t give a shit about staying relevant. I surf because I love it. If your main concern is staying relevant then you’re on the cow’s tit and milking it hard. I don’t want to do that.”
Pentacoastal, the name, is a clever riff on Pentecostalism, that wild hillbilly branch of Protestantism with its baptisms, holy fire, speaking in tongues, imminent second coming of Jay-Z etc.
Come for Wade’s wild takeoff into the tube, stay for Reynolds’ wild backside hangers, brave little Harry Bryant’s Indo beats and a fine soundtrack.