Making of Brant Bjork Trio Magic Surfer Magazine Video
I started making music videos at a strange time. MTV was still a thing, but it was during the time they were switching over to mostly non-music programming. Not that it mattered—the kind of music I was into and involved with was never going to land on MTV, not even on 120 Minutes or Headbanger’s Ball. The bands were on small or small-to-mid-sized independent labels, and MTV—like everything else—ran on politics and money.
YouTube was still new, and the video encoding software back then mangled our already small standard-def footage into something barely watchable. Despite all that, we made videos anyway. Creative people want to create. In my experience, when a band’s asked if they want to make a video—even with little to no chance of many people seeing it—they jump at the chance.
At the end of the day, a video is a marketing tool. But in the independent world, it’s not a crass attempt to sell records. It’s a chance to make something cool, capture a moment in time, and celebrate a song with images and story. If it brings in a few new fans…rad.
Like Mike Watt says: there’s gigs and there’s flyers. Music videos are flyers.
The first video I ever made was for Brant Bjork and the Operators—“My Ghettoblaster.” I made it with my friend and longtime filmmaking partner, Andre Toselli. That was over twenty years ago. We never stopped collaborating, but I think the last video we did was in 2007.
One day, my dear friend Mario “Boomer” Lalli called me at work to catch up. He and Brant had relaunched Brant’s independent label, DUNA Records. They were releasing a live album recorded at Pappy & Harriet’s back in 2009 (which I’d done the artwork for), and also putting out a new record by the Brant Bjork Trio.
There was some footage of the band in Australia playing a track from the new album called “Backin’ The Daze,” and Boomer wanted to know if I could edit it into a music video. But what really perked up my ears was that they wanted to shoot a video from scratch for another song called “Magic Surfer Magazine.”
I called Andre right after hanging up with Boom. He was just as stoked as I was. It felt like a full circle moment—the first video we ever made was for Brant, and here we were again.
Boomer and John Kastner had already began building a concept. While the band toured Europe, we started developing the concept further, checking in with Brant and Boomer and refining things as we went.
The concept closely follows Brant’s experience growing up in the desert, less than a hundred miles from the ocean but feeling like it was a million miles away. He always wished he could be a surfer. In the video, we follow a young Brant in the early ’80s as he heads to the liquor store to grab the latest issue of Surfer Magazine. The guy working the counter is in a similar spot—he grew up in the desert, but eventually got out, became a surfer but ended up back in the dirt.
Later that day, young Brant is in his room, escaping into the magazine. He falls asleep and dreams of himself a little older, ripping on a surfboard. Then we cut to present-day Brant, waking up from what feels like the same dream he’s had since he was a kid—still in the desert, still no waves. He’s got a surfboard, but he never made it to the water.
(Side note: Brant did eventually move to the beach, got a board, and became a solid surfer. I used to meet him at the Venice Breakwater some mornings and tried to learn, too. Despite being a lifelong skateboarder, I could never quite get it.)
I suggested adding a performance element. When it’s done right (no unplugged guitars), I think it’s rad to see the band play. It also gives the edit rhythm and structure. Once everyone signed off on the treatment, we started locking down locations and casting.
I had this idea to open the video with Brant, present day, riding his bike down the street while “My Ghettoblaster” played. It wasn’t an inside joke, per se, but I wasn’t sure if it would translate. I was surprised to see people comment on the Ghettoblaster callback.
For the performance scene, we all agreed it had to be at the Nude Bowl—or “The Colony,” as locals call it. Beyond the epic views of the Coachella Valley, it holds a heavy significance for those of us who grew up in the Low Desert. Tucked into the foothills east of Desert Hot Springs, the Nude Bowl is a world-renowned skate spot. For us, it was our skatepark and sometimes music venue. It was literally in our backyard.
This is the third or fourth time it’s been resurrected. You can dig into its history online. Conceptually, it worked—it’s where us desert kids “surfed.”
We needed a young Brant—or at least a kid who could represent him. I figured this would be the part we’d have to compromise on. We were working with a limited budget; we weren’t hiring casting agencies or checking demo reels of child actors. It would have to be someone we knew.
One day our daughter Hannah texted me a photo of our granddaughter Frankie at the beach, and it clicked. She’s got the same curly brown hair as Brant, she’s around the right age, and she’s totally rad. I called Hannah and asked if Frankie would be into acting in a music video—she said yes! I sent the photo to Brant and Boomer and pitched the idea. Of course, she’s not a boy, but I didn’t think it mattered. Brant agreed: “I think it’s rad she’s a girl.” That was that.
For the store clerk, there was only one choice—Sean Wheeler. I’m convinced he could walk into any Coen Brothers film and steal the show.
My wife Jen took the lead on set and costume design. She scored rad Rocky, Kiss, and Ramones posters for the bedroom set. A fresh pair of blue slip-on Vans (classic), striped socks, and my favorite detail: her own gold lightning bolt necklace from the 1980s.
I’d driven past Kennedy’s Market in Coachella for years but never been inside. It’s a classic, independent desert store tucked in the date groves. One day, Jen and I finally stopped in, and the interior was perfect. It could pass for a corner store in the '80s, easy. I asked the girl working the counter if we could shoot there—long shot, especially with no budget. Turns out her family used to own it, and she said yes. No charge, no hassle. Magic.
With everything lined up, we met Boomer around 4:30 a.m. at the 7-Eleven on Pierson and West Dr. in Desert Hot Springs. They blast opera over the parking lot loudspeakers to keep people from loitering. I was running on just a few hours of sleep and too much coffee, and it tweaked my vibe for a second, but I shook it off and headed up to the Nude Bowl.
We wanted the band to be backlit by the rising sun. We set up three shiny boards, each aimed at a band member. Did I mention it was August? By the time Brant and drummer Ryan arrived at 6:30, it was already pushing 105 degrees.
We had a tight window for light, so we ran four cameras: a Blackmagic URSA 12K, an URSA 4.6K, and two Blackmagic 6Ks. Our friend, skateboarding legend Freddie DeSota, was there helping out—and even carved a few lines in the bowl. He shows up around the 3:53 mark.
We shot four or five full takes of the song, a few shots of Brant holding the surfboard for the ending, and wrapped it up. Just in time, too—Andre was borderline heat-stroked. It was around 118 degrees. I found him hiding under my truck, trying to find some shade. He’s from the desert, but years of coastal living thinned his blood.
Next shoot day was at Kennedy’s Market with Frankie and Sean. Aside from a quick walkthrough, we didn’t rehearse—we just rolled. I was blown away by their chemistry. We did a few takes for coverage, but they were all keepers. Frankie had zero acting experience, but she was very natural. No overacting, no self-consciousness.
Brant brought his old Diamondback BMX—the same one he used to ride to the store as a kid to get Surfer Magazine. We shot Frankie cruising down the street on it. It was even hotter than the Nude Bowl day. Desert Hot Springs is about 1,000 feet above sea level; Coachella is at sea level. Those thousand feet make a difference.
I tried using a gimbal for the tracking shots, but I was having trouble getting it to balance (I hate gimbals). I ended up doing it handheld, riding Freddie’s One-Wheel, which I’d sort of learned to ride a few days earlier. After that, we grabbed shots of Brant rolling down the street for the “Ghettoblaster” intro.
Editing was easy. The song is great and we had what we needed. Some edits feel like patch jobs—this one didn’t. The cherry on top was Stevie Gee’s rad surfing animation.
After the rough cut, Brant and I both agreed the final shot of him holding the surfboard wasn’t quite right. We met back at the Nude Bowl to reshoot it. There were some gnarly fires in the mountains above San Bernardino, which gave the sky a warm, trippy glow.
This is my favorite music video Andre and I have ever made. The song—and the story it tells is universal. It’s about chasing dreams, it’s rooted in longing, imagination, and escape. Seeing how it connected with people was rad. . And getting to make it with my wife, daughter, and granddaughter was the icing on the cake.
P.S.
I’ve always loved working with Brant and Mario. We share similar artistic sensibilities. After decades of collaboration, we’ve developed an intuitive way of communicating—whether it’s album art, photography, or music videos. No overthinking. Just: come up with an idea, execute it, and put it out—with all the bumps and bruises. It reminds me of SST.
I started my creative life in many ways with those two. They gave me a shot early on. They were already established artists when Boomer let me direct a Fatso Jetson video. Before I’d even started the Fatso Jetson video, Brant asked me to make one for him too. I’d never made a music video before. Didn’t know if I could. But they believed in the work, and in their vision—and I took a cue from that ethic.
Working on this video felt like a full circle moment. In a creative world that often runs on ego, politics, or money, working with those dudes still feels like the exception—not the rule.
Cale Bunker - Long Beach, California
