Hanging ten

Rhino's Cowabunga teaches surf by the numbers

by Norman Weinstein

Jimi Hendrix's claim that "you'll never hear surf music again," a phrase from his "Third Stone from the Sun," has proven wildly wrong in the 30 years since. In fact, Cowabunga: The Surf Box, the new four-CD Rhino box set, demonstrates how and why surf music has maintained a longevity few rock subgenres can claim. Largely focused upon guitar-driven instrumentals, Cowabunga supersedes scores of previous surf compilations because of its inclusiveness and historical breadth. Anyone who thinks surf music a purely retro style will find this box a startling education.

The four CDs run in sequence. "Ground Swells" covers the early '60s; "Big Waves" collects hits from the pivotal year of 1963; "Ebb Tide" culls singles through the rest of that decade; "New Waves" combines tunes from the '70s to the present. Although newcomers to the style might best listen in this order, the rest of us can pursue any order. Blame it on right-brain dominance, but I particularly relish listening in reverse order -- a sequence transparently revealing the roots of today's surf bands.

If you prefer your musical history in a logical progression, the first disc holds the largest number of familiar instrumental classics: "Mr. Moto" by the Belairs, "Pipeline" by the Chantays, and multiple hits by the venerable inventor of surf music, guitarist Dick Dale. Any Dale recording is an archetypal surf instrumental. It's a pure formula -- but what a formula! Sixteenth notes fired in machine-gun fury, saturated by reverb, backed by a rhythm section relentlessly shuffling and rocking. Melodies are in a minor key, often sounding vaguely Spanish or Middle Eastern. The Middle Eastern coloration is a key. Dale's contribution to rock guitar was to transpose the technique Arab oud (lute) players used for centuries on their acoustic instruments: highly percussive staccato picking. Call it the Orientalization of American rock. This highly physical style became identified with the muscle-stretching sport of surfing but it always sounds "exotic" enough to be associated with the "Mysterious East."

Besides his immodest recording "King of the Surf Guitar," which is included on disc two, Dale also concludes disc four with his "Esperanza," an instrumental from his 1993 Tribal Thunder (Hightone). Yes, his shadow continues to loom long and large. On his latest CD, Calling Up Spirits, (Beggar's Banquet), he introduces the weirdest cover of Hendrix's "Third Stone from the Sun" imaginable, with a spoken aside to Hendrix: "Jimi, I'm still here . . . " Forgive the egotism; Dale still burns on his Stratocaster.

As Dale is the greatest guitar wiz surf music has ever known, the Beach Boys were the greatest vocal harmony group. Like Dale's, their recordings from their surf-saturated '60s exude a fidelity to a formula. Chuck Berry song structures were married to doo-wop vocal harmonies. The idiocy of their lyrics has ensured their eternal high status in American pop culture; kitsch thrives on such banalities as "fun, fun, fun" and various expressions of California ersatz-utopianism and erotic mysticism.

Cowabunga heightened my awareness of just how many imitators the Beach Boys spawned (the Trade Winds, the Sunrays, the Fantastic Baggies). Having grown up in the '60s, I can remember surf music seeming "out of date" by the time the Beatles caught on. When my local (Philadelphia) department store scheduled a vote to see which group was most popular among teens, the Beach Boys or Beatles, my friends and I abstained from the un-hip plebiscite. But by the late '70s, surf music had been resurrected through bands blending punk and psychedelic mannerisms into classical surf-song structures. What an apt fusion! Psychedelic and punk rock were lyrically as simplistic as surf, their powers summoned by stingingly aggressive guitar meshing with furious drumming.

There are 20 fine neo-surf bands on disc four, but the ones to notice are the Mermen. A power trio led by guitarist Jim Thomas, they combine the wildest excesses of old psychedelic bands like Quicksilver Messenger Service and Blue Cheer with a sunny, high-spirited energy reminiscent of Dick Dale at his campiest. If their live version of "Honeybomb" engages, be sure to check out their new EP on Mesa/Bluemoon, Songs of the Cows.

The single most bizarre surf-revival outfit hails from Finland. Laika and the Cosmonauts ("Laika" is the name of the first dog who orbited the earth) actually translate Dizzy Gillespie's jazz standard "A Night in Tunisia" into surf music. There's nothing jazzy or Latinish or Tunisian evident in this. Just the kind of heavily reverbed guitar and loudly bashed drums you'd expect from a surf band anywhere.

Does it rock?

You bet.

Just like a canine in orbit.