The last thruster Rasta ever ordered was from Dick Van Stralen in 2004, during the filming of Blue Horizon. Nearly two decades passed before he rode another—in the final episode of the Electric Acid Surfboard Test filmed in Puerto Rico. Photo by Tim Mckenna.

When David Grohl Put The Spotlight On Surf Films

Jack McCoy on how he licensed two of the Foo Fighters’ biggest hits in Blue Horizon.

cinema // Apr 7, 2025

Words by Jack McCoy

Reading Time: 5 minutes

Editor’s note: To celebrate the 20th year anniversary of ‘Blue Horizon’, Jack McCoy is touring his remastered film around Oz with special appearances from Dave Rastovich, Nathan Hedge, Occy and Phil Macdonald. More info on screenings and tickets here.

It was the early 2000s, and I was deep into production on Blue Horizon. I’d picked 90% of the music myself, like I do on all my films, and I was after a soundtrack that hit hard. Not just sonically, but emotionally. The kind of tracks that stuck to a wave — and to the story. I needed something powerful. And I wasn’t interested in phoning a record label and being run around by suits looking to squeeze every cent out of an indie surf film. I’ve never played that game. You go straight to the source — the artists and the managers. They know the value of aligning with surf culture. They know that music can break through with the right visuals. Look what Taylor Steele did with his soundtracks. It’s symbiotic.

One day, I’m in the edit bay with my music producer’s son and I tell him I’m looking for something new, something fresh. And he says, “The drummer from Nirvana’s got a new band — Foo Fighters. They’re playing at the Manning Bar at Sydney Uni. Only a few hundred tickets.”

I bought their album that day. And two songs jumped out: “My Hero” and “Everlong.” Massive. I go to the show — small, sweaty, full of energy. I knew right away this was the band I needed. After the show, I worked my way backstage — something I’d gotten good at by then — and I introduced myself to Dave Grohl.

When I asked Jack how he identified Andy as the star of his film prior to his incredible World Title run he explained, “It all started with Ben Aipa—that legend could spot talent a mile off. He pulls me aside at Duke’s birthday bash and says, ‘Jack, there’s these kids from Kauai… just wait ‘til you see them surf.’ So I check out Andy and Bruce at a junior comp, and yeah, they had style for days, but man—Andy was out all night with Chris Ward, rolling up to heats looking wrecked. Classic young gun stuff. Fast forward a few years, and Billabong hits me up about putting him in Blue Horizon. My first thought? ‘That party animal? No shot.’ But they swore he’d changed. So I took a chance, and sure enough—Tahiti rolls around, and Andy’s a different animal. Sleeping right, eating clean, charging like a man possessed. That free surf session when the comp got delayed? Andy, Bruce, and Rasta just went next level. And right then I knew—this wasn’t the same kid. He was about to go on a run that’d blow the roof off the whole tour. Lucky for me, the camera was rolling when it all clicked into place.”

“Hey, I’m Jack McCoy, I’m making a surf film and I’d love to use your music.”

Dave looks at me and goes, “You’re making a surf movie? That’s so cool.” Then he hands me his manager’s card and says, “Call this guy. I’ll tell him I want to be in your movie.”

‘Nuff said.

We got the tracks. They ended up being part of the heartbeat of Blue Horizon.

A few years later the Foo Fighters announce they’re touring Australia. I know their tour manager through my music producer — so I ask, “Do the Foos want to go for a surf on their day off?” A few minutes later I get a call back: Yes.

That night, Chris Shiflett, the lead guitarist, calls me personally: “Jack, can’t wait to surf with you tomorrow. What are you doing tonight? Come to the show.”

So I go.

As a Sydney Uni alum who logged *way* too many hours at Manning Bar, I can confirm: Foo Fighters-tier headliners were rarer than a sober 3AM kebab decision. Most nights? Cheap beers, garage bands, and trivia so chaotic it counted as a contact sport. But god damn I miss those sticky floors and $5 schooners.

I rock up to the ticket booth and say, “Jack McCoy.” Some girl comes out, grabs me and takes me straight backstage. I walk into the dressing room and the whole band is bouncing around to Rock Lobster by the B-52s. Dave comes up to me, all smiles.

“Jack! Man, I loved what you did with our music in Blue Horizon. That opening track is one of the coolest things I’ve seen with our footage.”

Then he pauses, looks at me.

“Do you surf?”

“Every day,” I say. “And twice on weekends.”

He grins. “Mind if I ask how old you are?”

This was 20 years ago, mind you — I told him, ‘I’m over 50.’”

He goes, “Over 50 and you still surf?” — eyes wide like I just told him I could fly.

He grabs his lighting guy, Nathan. “This is Jack. He’s coming out on stage with us. Show him the best spot behind the speakers. And then, Jack, when you’re done back there, head to the sound booth. That’s the best mix in the house.”

So I follow them out. Stage left. Adrenaline pulsing.

Torquenology, as demonstrated by Professor Rastovich.

Mid-show, Dave gets on the mic. “Are there any teenagers here tonight?” Cheers. “Any 20-year-olds? 30? 40?” Crowd’s getting louder. “Well, I’m 36, and I’m still rocking! How about 50-year-olds?”

I’m in the crowd now, near the sound booth. And I’m pumped. I throw my fist in the air. Yeah!

Just then — boom — spotlight hits me.

“There!” Dave shouts. “There’s one! Over 50 and still surfing. This one’s for you, Jack!”

They go straight into My Hero.

I got texts all night: “The Foo Fighters just shouted you out at the show!”

Since then, Dave and I have kept in touch. We’ve got a mutual respect — artist to artist, surfer to rocker. And yeah, we did get that surf the next day.