“I cut my bangs with kitchen scissors”: Bif Naked opens up about her new documentary

Since the mid-’90s, musician Bif Naked—a.k.a. Beth Torbert—has been one of the country’s most-beloved rabble-rousing performers. Her gutsy, unfiltered persona unquestionably paved the way for pop-punk princesses like Avril Lavigne and Fefe Dobson. Mega-hits like “I Love Myself Today” and “Tango Shoes” have cemented her status as equal parts alt-rock icon and beacon of defiant positivity. While she has spent much of her adult life in Vancouver, Torbert quietly moved to Toronto in 2018, initially settling right near the water at Park Lawn and Lake Shore. “It was a very gentle landing for someone coming from Vancouver—incredibly similar to my old neighbourhood, so it was a great transition for me.” Now, she’s comfortably ensconced in a glass tower in the Entertainment District, and her three-decade career is the subject of a brand-new documentary, Bif Naked, which is screening at the Paradise Theatre on May 9. We caught up with Torbert to talk career highlights, what it’s like to age in public as a woman and her secret new EDM album.

Do you go by Bif or Beth when you’re offstage? Well, they sound the same. They’re both one syllable. I have the same small circle of girlfriends I’ve had since university, and some of them call me Beth and others call me Bif. It sort of depends whether I’m at work or at home.

Do you have a preference? I don’t. Whatever works.

Your life is the subject of a new documentary. How did that come about? I went through breast cancer treatment in 2008, at 36, and Instagram wasn’t a thing. It was kind of unique that I was this public-figure riot grrrl who had survived cancer, but not many people knew about it. My manager, who I’ve worked with since I was 21, told me I had to write a memoir, which I didn’t really want to do. I thought it was kind of conceited. But he convinced me to do it. After the book came out, in 2016, I went on speaking tours and connected with a lot of patients and families of cancer survivors. Fast forward a decade later, my manager was talking about how he’s often approached by filmmakers who want to turn my story into a documentary, and it seemed like the right time.

The director, Pollyanna Hardwicke-Brown, was a fan—she had come to my concerts when she was young. She knew more about me than I did! She was so tender and thoughtful and meticulous with my story. She wound up interviewing my birth mom, who had never been given an opportunity to tell her side of the story before, so that was touching. The crew came out and filmed us on tour in Paris and Mexico. It was really a labour of love.

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You’ve been a touring musician for decades now. Has your relationship to performance changed during that time? I always laugh about it—when I was a kid, I wanted to be a ballerina. Then I got into musical theatre because I wanted to be an actor. I didn’t have any desire to sing or be in a band. I still can’t sing! But I found my community in the ’90s hardcore scene, and it was just a great fit. When you’re in a band, it enables you to have a soapbox where you can express all the things you want to say, sociopolitically. Now, when I’m on stage, I’m a dancer, a character actor and a singer all at once. Going into my elder years, I feel free from constraints. As I move forward, I look at all the women musicians I admire—the Bangles, Belly, L7—and they’re all thriving and flourishing. It’s freeing. I look to women like Tina Turner, wearing a miniskirt and heels into her 70s, and think, I want to be like that too. Why not?

What kind of message are you spreading on your soapbox these days? Being alive as a woman in the world, as a woman who has survived sexual assault and abuse, I can say that the world hasn’t really changed, it’s only amplified. I try to refrain from saying that it’s gotten worse, though, because I find that is demotivating for people. I believe in a hopeful future, and I refuse to be any other way, because it’s not helpful for anyone who is struggling. We can’t give up. I always want to be the hand in the well for someone who is drowning. As a woman with a microphone, I have a responsibility to motivate others to keep their chins up. I feel that now more than ever.

In the documentary, there’s an underlying narrative that suggests you were “too cutting edge” for the time. Do you agree with that assessment? I can think of a lot of examples of people who were way more cutting edge. Look at GG Allin, taking a shit onstage. Or Annie Sprinkle, onstage with a speculum. But it was difficult at the time for us to get mainstream radio play. I remember one time we were turned down for a tour, I think it was in the Philippines, because my lyrics were “impolite.” I remember thinking, Didn’t Slayer just go on tour there? Meanwhile this little girl singing “Daddy’s Getting Married” is too impolite. It didn’t make any sense. Today, I think it would be different. But there was a sweet spot in the ’90s when, if you looked like Bettie Page and had a lot of tattoos, the answer was always no.

Speaking of Bettie Page, what’s your approach to style? What clothing makes you feel most like yourself? If you catch me on an off day, I look like a soccer mom because I’m always at the dog park. Other days I dress like a teenager because I’m always at the skate park in my mind. My sense of style is very West Coast: if you weren’t at the skate park, you were snowboarding.

I was allowed to choose what I wanted to wear for all my music videos, and I laugh my head off when I watch the “Moment of Weakness” video because I’m wearing these big orange pants. I’m like, Why was I allowed to wear those? There was a stylist for the video who came with all these very cool shiny form-fitting latex clothes, and I was like, “Nope, I’m wearing my orange snowboard pants.”

So you’ve had some style regrets. What kind of aesthetic are you going for now? What I’ve always liked is juxtaposition. I used to go to the old ladies’ floor of Saks Fifth Avenue and buy pastel Oscar de la Renta sweaters for my grown-up meetings with record companies, to cover the tattoos all over my arms. Then, at lunch, I’d take my sweater off for the big reveal. I still dress like that today—somewhat conservative. I love fake pearl earrings, Mary Jane shoes with delicate frilly socks.

Your dog, Grace, steals every scene in the documentary. What’s her story? She just turned six; I’ve had her for five and a half years. Grace was re-homed to me and my former husband. She’s a little Yorkie, and the home she was in had some big cane corsos, and they weren’t able to make it work. My previous dog had passed away at 17, and I wasn’t necessarily ready for another one, but she needed a home, so I took her in.

Since having cancer, I’ve become a volunteer. I love spending time with people in palliative care. What I’ve discovered about Grace is that she is built for volunteering. She’s so patient, quiet and calm that I can take her with me in any situation. She often comes with me to volunteer in the hospital, to meet all the patients and the staff.

You’re an icon for women with bangs. What’s the hair-care routine? I’ve been dyeing my hair black since I was 18 years old—obviously it’s starting to go a little grey underneath. I think, in order for me to stop dyeing it for good, I’d have to shave it all off and let it grow out. I’m the worst with hair care. I’ll literally wash it with dish soap, and then it dries like straw. I cut my bangs with kitchen scissors. I would like to grow my bangs out, but I always start and then flip out because it looks terrible and end up cutting my bangs in an Uber on the way to the airport. Most days I’m wearing a baseball hat—a Blue Jays hat, specifically. And if I really want to irritate my friends back home, I’ll wear a Maple Leafs hat.

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When you look back on your career, what are the highlights?
The Tonight Show was a big one, because I knew my dad was watching. He was a big Jay Leno fan. Oscar De La Hoya was one of the other guests that night, and he stole my CD from Jay Leno to give to his little sister. Opening for the Prodigy was another big highlight—there were 80,000 people in the audience. But it never stops feeling amazing. This summer, we’re playing with the Tea Party in Niagara Falls and touring with Three Days Grace, and I’m really excited.

What else is on the horizon? Every summer we do rock festivals, which are so fun. They always feel like summer camp. We also have a secret EDM record coming out that’s been in the can for a while now, and I’m working on another book. I love writing. And there’s a feature-length film about my life, called I, Bificus, that’s currently in development. They’re writing the screenplay now. It’s very intriguing. Then more touring in the fall. I take things season by season.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.