SadGirl - Water

Suicide Squeeze: 2019

”So [Vol. 3 – Head To The Mountains] wasn't what I expected or hoped for, not really convincing me SadGirl was actually a contemporary surf rock band. And yet, I still went and ordered their debut album, Water. Go figure.”

Flash forward nearly four years later, and here I am, finally reviewing the darn thing! If you ever wanted an idea of how backed up my queue has gotten, that's as good an indicator as any. I'm starting to wonder if I should even bother with the alphabetical stipulation at all. Like, it was a handy bit of organization when I was initially going through my original music collection, a definitive end-point to work towards. Now that that's done and dusted, however, what real need for it is there? Legacy? Maintaining a gimmick well past its usefulness? What I'm getting at is, for all practical purposes, shouldn't I now review items I get as I get them, rather than let them languish in a 'To-Review' pile for years, long after their 'hot on the streets' drop dates have cooled? Mind, if I was doing that, I'd probably still be going through all those goa trance CDs I bought earlier this year. Yeah, maybe let's keep things as are for now...

Anyhow, SadGirl. The band was tapped by Bandcamp as one of the nu-surf scene's ascendant acts, and at the time, they certainly seemed primed as such. A run of solid singles with eye-popping artwork, a debut album primed for launch... What could go wrong? Oh, yeah, that whole pandemic thing. That would stall any musical career dependent upon live shows for sustainability, and it seems SadGirl stalled indeed, nothing new released for a couple years now. Maybe they'll reconvene for a comeback, but as it stands, Water remains their lone LP.

They don't waste any time letting you know you're in for 'life's a beach' vibes either. Opener The Ocean immediately drops you into a lazy, hazy, dreamy bit of echo-drenched croon, organs swaying and electric guitars sliding. Follow-up Chlorine gets more into the cabaret side of classic rockabilly, while instrumental Hazelnut Coffee may have your Khruangbin triggers flaring. If you have any Khruangbin triggers to flare in the first place, that is. Y'know, the sort of easy-peasy tiki lounge jam music best enjoyed while laying in a hammock, frilly drink in hand.

Water mostly flits about such songs for its duration, unashamed in its ultra-retro aesthetic, never upping the tempo to more than a lukewarm simmer. I guess that doesn't really make it a proper surf rock album, even though you can't help but be reminded of endless waves as the sun sets below the distant ocean horizon. Forever remembering those loves lost, drifting somewhere out at sea while you remain landlocked and moribund. Oh yeah, the metaphors on this album are rather blunt and obvious, but hey, it is a surf record, a genre of music that was seldom ever subtle in execution.

La Luz - La Luz

Hardly Art: 2021

It feels weird being invested in a contemporary rock band. Heck, any rock band, come to think of it. Yeah, I've done discography dives on many, but almost none have intrigued me enough to scope out their full catalogues, much less keep tabs on every new release. Like, here I was, on the edge of my seat, wondering whatever would La Luz do about the departure of drummer Marian Li Pino? Oh, that pandemic thingy put a hold on all that anyway, so don't have to worry about it just yet.

So La Luz was on hiatus, lead singer and guitarist Shana Cleveland whiling the downtime doing some solo work. When I heard the group had finally reconvened after such a long absence, I was honest and truly excited to hear how they were going to move forward, especially who the drummer would be. Holy cow, I'm excited about a rock band's new drummer! What a strange sensation this is!

Then I was thrown for a complete loop and a half when I heard it was Adrian Younge. Wait... waitwaitwait! That Adrian Younge? The ultra-talented funk-n-soul jazz musician? The one who produced those fantastic Ghostface Killah and Souls Of Mischief albums? That Adrian Younge!? How on Earth did he get involved working with an all-lady psychedelic surf rock band? This is a 'Worlds Colliding!' pairing I never would have dreamed of, yet here it is, within my hands, La Luz' latest, self-titled album with the two least expected genres of music merging together. Well, unless you count 'psychedelia' as a bit of glue.

And while this is unmistakably a La Luz album, Mr. Younge's influence definitely is felt, especially on the rhythmic end of things. I don't think I've ever heard Lena Simon's bass playing given such prominence before, and there's no mistaking those drum tones as anything other than an Adrian Younge joint. Incidentally, these were performed by Riley Geare, the drummer for an indie psych-rock band called Unknown Mortal Orchestra, and a definite dude (that much beard gives it away). I assume he just happened to be in the neighbourhood when Adrian and Luz went into the studio to record this album, as he's not listed as the group's official new drummer on Wikipedia, she currently being Audrey Johnson. Aww, just missed the recording sessions, I guess.

Meanwhile, it's clear keyboardist Alice Sandahl was encouraged to 'jazz' up her playing, and I'm all for it. This includes adding more instruments to her arsenal, such as Mellotron, harpsichord, and... cowbell? Heck, you should see the amount of extra instruments Shana brought in: steel guitar, 12-string guitar, sitar. In typical Younge fashion, no instrument is left off the table!

Which unsurprisingly leaves La Luz a fair bit more funky than some might expect, but never to the loss of a general dream pop and psychedelic soul vibe. The core essence of a La Luz record is here, just with a lot more studio indulgence than past outings.

La Luz - Floating Features

Hardly Art: 2018

And so we come to a conclusion in my little excursion into the world of surf rock. As my music collection currently stands, I've no more items waiting in the never-ending queue, and it's appropriate La Luz brings things to a finale. They were the first band introducing me in my initial wanderings into 'nu-surf', and with the dust all settled, remain my favourite of all my samplings. Just a shame the band's been stuck on hiatus these past few years.

Of course, it's not their fault, the 2020 Pandemic putting a halt on the careers of many musicians. Small, underground artists especially felt the crunch, and while band leader Shana Cleveland did release a solo folk album in the interim, one hopes this forced interlude hasn't put a permanent mothballing of Lu Luz. There's only so many 'retro dream pop by way of contemporary surf rock' all-women bands out there.

More so, their last album was showing some growth in musicianship, leading to potentially fascinating avenues in the future. I've mentioned before the band's version of surf rock wasn't really what you'd think of traditional, in that their aesthetic didn't always reflect southern California vibes. For sure there's the dream pop attributes, but location more often than not influences art, and La Luz' Pacifc northwest heritage could not be ignored (erm, especially if you're intimately familiar with the lands). With Floating Features, the band looked to shake off some of that greytone, fully embracing the summery Cali sound, with a sprinkle of psychedelia.

You can just feel it from the opening few tracks on the album, things just a little on edge even as the production is more expansive than ever. The titular instrumental opener is big and strident, letting you know you're in for an adventure in sun-baked clime's rather than insular coastal forests, while follow-up Cicada quickens the pace some, sparing no space in the reverb. Loose Teeth gets fuzzier and full of guitar grit, and Mean Dream... Well, it sounds more like traditional mellow La Luz, but the music video certainly dips deep into retro substance shenanigans. Blacklights will never grow old.

Much of Floating Features carries on various dream rock vibes, Lonely Dozer and Don't Leave Me On The Earth the only other times things get 'surfy'. It's honestly hard pegging this album as surf rock though, as the reverb is much more vast than the frenetic shredding of the genre could allow. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if some folks get turned off by the grand sonics on display. It's certainly far removed from the basic garage production of earlier La Luz, but the song-writing is still top notch.

Whether we'll get another La Luz album remains to be seen. There were some personnel changes before everything was put on hold, but I can't imagine this being a final outing. Shana Cleveland seems far too motivated to end a band just because a global virus stalled momentum.

La Luz - Weirdo Shrine

Hardly Art: 2015

Just how '60s retro did La Luz intend to initially go anyway? For sure you had the dreamy, psychedelic pop overtures and the surf rock nods, but the band's debut album didn't completely sell you on being there, in the era of mini-skirts and beehive hairdos. Which is understandable, La Luz undoubtedly concerned they'd seem more of a gimmick if they went all The B-52's with their presentation. They were already battling assumptions being an all-girl band to begin with. The indie rock scene is already a difficult one to crack with that feature over-hanging, so no need to complicating matters with pageantry. Get in, establish your stylee, then expand if the results turn successful.

I guess that's why I feel like La Luz' sophomore effort, Weirdo Shrine, hits so many similar beats as their debut, It's Alive, but does it all better. These gals are more assured of what their music can be, tighter as a unit, fully embracing the dream-surf rock jams such that they sound more attuned to the decade they're drawing influence from. It's to such a point that they even included chintzy 3-D glasses into the package, with art that pops at you from the second dimension! Well, kinda'. I don't think these glasses fit my face too good, seemingly made for petite ladies. Like, the little doggo figurine in the assemblage of knickknacks forming the inlay's weirdo shrine looks well removed from the pile, but not much else. To say nothing of the lack of depth from the hands playing cat's cradle on the cover. Maybe it works better with the larger vinyl canvas.

Anyhow, Weirdo Shrine opens with the dream pop of Sleep Till They Die as felt being sunkissed by California shores, then kicks out the surf jam right after with You Disappear. Okay, not a 'pure' surf jam, since this is still an actual song with actual lyrics and stuff, but its hard not to feel the waves beneath your plank of fibreglass as the splashy guitar reverb hits when it kicks off. And speaking of reverb, is it just me, or do the vocals sound more airy as well? Like, everything just has a richer texture about it, my ears breathing in the resonance as guitars and drums and organs sound both up front and distant as a canyon's walls.

It feels weird(o) to say this next: I'm not sure if there's anything else I can say about Weirdo Shrine. Detail all eleven tracks by track? So, Don't Wanna Be Anywhere does that Khruangbin loungey thing. I Can't Speak and I'll Be True slow things down, while I Wanna Be Alone and the titular song pep things up. Hey Papi and Oranges are the token instrumentals, while True Love Knows is the sort of ballad you can imagine swaying back and forth with your sweetie in your arms, as the malt shop nears closing. Mush, but eh, I'm sure I'll be able to relate again, one of these days.

ACE TRACKS: September 2020

Time for another round of Sykonee Vs The Work Radio. Today's case study features what happens when being transferred to a brand new location with the station defaulted to the most modern music you can play for a clientele of all ages, but secretly wanting that younger, affluent demographic. Logic dictates it'll be pop music, with a heavy favouritism towards timeless hits of the '80s and '90s, but that's old people music now. You need something that connects with millennials, and hoo boy, do they love 'em some Marshmello. Or so whomever is in charge of curating these work radio playlists assumes.

That wouldn't be the worst of it though. Oh no, our mysterious taste-maker knows we can't subsist on a steady diet of Marshmello forever. There's just too much nutritious '80s and '90s pop to ignore, but we can't have the originals playing - it'd make Marshmello sound bad. Somehow, then, our faceless music merchant has found modern covers of all the old hits, and by modern, I mean tropical house remixes, with the occasional Ed Sheeran-style acoustic ditty thrown in. I'm honestly more flabbergasted and even a touch bemused by the fact there exists such an extensive library of this music now, enough to fill a contemporary pop playlist.

Needless to say, this stuff was rapidly annoying as all hell, but fortunately, I got my hands on the music feed (re: was asked to install some additional wiring, because I'm apparently The Guy who knows how to do such things). And while I couldn't change the music selection (don't have that authority), I did adjust all the volumes so it wasn't so blaring in the areas that it mattered. Where I can play my own stuff on my own portable speakers, away from discerning ears. Oh yes, there's a party in the Sykonee work corner! Even playing music as found in September's collection of ACE TRACKS!


Full track list here.


MISSING ALBUMS:
RX-101 - Like Yesterday
Buttertones - Midnight In A Moonless Dream

Percentage Of Hip-Hop: 0%
Percentage Of Rock: 36%
Most “WTF?” Track: Sunscreem - Love U More, just for *that* lyric.

Is this the highest percentage of rock music we've ever had in one of these playlists? Maybe when I did that Neil Young boxset, there was more, or perhaps when I took on a sizeable chunk of Ishkur's CD collection from his angsty rock teenage years. Aside from that though, yes, I do believe it is. And how could it not, what with two offerings of Viking metal and two offerings of surf rock. Heck, could have been three of the latter, if the band hadn't deep-sixed their prospects with awful behaviour.

Tijuana Panthers - Max Baker

Innovative Leisure Records: 2010/2015

It was bound to happen sooner than later. As much as you'll find throwbacks and homages to the genre throughout the decades, surf rock is just too niche a style for any modern band to make hay playing only that genre. Heck, it was lucrative for a mere half-decade to begin with, and while five years in '60s time is, like, eleven years in modern time (somehow), it's so intimately tied to a specific setting that a lasting rebirth simply can't happen again. Even Bandcamp, the last refuge for any band or musician who just don't give an f' so long as their craft is out there, freely admitted that its surf rock recommendations quickly disintegrate into indie pop or garage rock standards, some included bands barely touching the vintage shredding instrumentals with splashy reverb.

Tijuana Panthers fall into this category, a three-piece band having far more in common with Violent Femmes than anything Dick Dale turned out. On the other hand, their lyrical content sure brings to mind the simpler antics of teenagers hanging out at malt shoppes than all d'at angst of later generations. Never before has getting a crew cut sounded so daring and rebellious! No, wait, wasn't getting a crew cut the norm of ye golden oldies days? Like, having a mop-top hair-do, or something as scandalous as side-burns, those were the styles that gave young women their sexual awakenings. So is proudly proclaiming you're getting a crew cut an act of preppy defiance, or are Tijuana Panthers just playing up the stereo-type in a modern era? So much contemplation for a song that has a chorus of “I gotta crew cut baby; I gotta crew cut baby; I gotta crew cut baby; I gotta crew cut baby.”

Still, as a band that hails from Long Beach, Tijuana Panthers do bring a 'carefree fun in the sun' vibe to their music (including the song Summer Fun), which was aesthetically part and parcel to surf rock as the shredding and reverb ever was. The Beach Boys continuum, if you will, and this debut album of theirs is brimful of the stuff. Tunes like New Boots, Red Headed Girl, Two Step, and Angie will transplant you to the era of mini-skirts and little deuce coups no problem. If you want something a more 'rebellious' and rockin', however, how about rabble-rousers like This Town, and Girls Gone Wild. And yes, a couple songs do get more proper-surf (for lack of a better term), the aforementioned Summer Fun almost entirely a reverb-heavy instrumental, while Prayer Knees meets things in the middle.

Was Max Baker the sort of album I was after, then? Not really, but I do enjoy it for the time it plays. As mentioned, finding bands who specifically play the specific style of surf I like is a nigh impossible task. If my explorations cross paths with those who dabble though, who am I to complain? Beggers can't be choosers, and all that rot.

La Luz - It's Alive

Hardly Art: 2013

That there would be modern bands making early '60 rock music isn't surprising. They've been doing that since the '80s. But while the surfer style has received minor bumps of recognition over the decades (thanks, The B-52's and Quentin Tarantino), it's never seen anything close to a real revival, forever remaining this quirky niche thing. Still, I'd totally expect a band or three to have their stabs at it, and Bandcamp has proven it to be so. What I hadn't counted on was one of those bands – indeed, one of the highest rated ones – would be an all-girl group called La Luz.

And I know that comes off completely sexist on my part, because I honestly did not even consider this could be a thing. A lady or two in a band, sure, no problem, but for whatever reason (one of its originator's being named Dick?), surf rock has forever remained an extremely male-dominated genre of music. What's great about La Luz, though, is they don't come off like a gimmick in the slightest. Yeah, they're a unique quartet in a relatively obscure music scene, but that's just circumstantial. No one would have bat and eye if they'd gone punk or country instead (well, fewer). It just so happened they were into making these kinds of tunes, and the world of dreamy surf jams is all the more richer for it.

I suppose you could say La Luz isn't a strict surf rock band either, blending somewhat into that nebulous indie dream pop world. The vocal harmonies are certainly there, and I'm sometimes reminded of Khruangbin when they slow the tempo down some. And Khruangbin has that 'lazy times in beach-fronted tiki lounges' vibe going for them, which is surf adjacent, right? Gotta' relax after hitting those waves, dude.

Anyhow, that's beside the point. La Luz has a drummer, a bassist, an organier, and a guitar lead with that distinctive 'splashy' reverb you can't help but think of when surf rock comes to mind. Some light shredding too, though obviously nothing to the level of Dick Dale. Nor is there any need for Shana Cleveland to go there, her guitar strums fun and jammy when called upon, while Alice Sandahl gets occasional turns for solos on the organ too. It's Alive breezes by at eleven songs long, flitting between the peppy upbeat rockers and dreamy downtempo ballads. It may be surf rock with modern indie rock overtones, but it still feeds that need of mine to hear-

No, I can't hide it any longer. There's another reason I dig the La Luz style, something entirely geographical. See, they hail from Seattle, which has somehow imparted a rather... foggy aesthetic, I want to say? Like, surf rock typically has a very sunny, southern California feel to it, but listening to this, I imagine the waves of Tofino instead, surrounded my misty mountains overgrown with thick rainforests. Such an easy sell for a West Coast lad like myself, that.

The B-52's - The B-52's

Warner Bros. Records: 1979

I never thought I'd get a The B-52's album. Like so many folks out there (so very many), my first contact with them was via their omnipresent late '80s hit Love Shack. And like everyone else, I loved the song, until I heard it too many times to the point I didn't really want to hear it again. I also recall Kate Pierson's guest spot on REM's Shiny Happy People as being the first time I realized there was such a thing as artist guest spots (“gosh, that lady singing in the chorus sure sounds like the lady singing in Love Shack!”). Following that, there was The Flintstones Theme, which forever marked the band to me as just some cheese-ball, cartoony throwback group. Which, well, was kinda' true, but Cynical Teenager Sykonee thought that a Bad Thing.

Fast forward many years (over a decade?), and I hear Rock Lobster on a classic rock station. And I thinks to myself, I thinks to myself I do, “Wait, is this the same group as who did Love Shack and Flintstones? How can that be, this tune's awesome!” Not that I rushed out to nab more of their music or anything, but it definitely forced a much-needed reassessment of their work, such that when Spotify Discovery discovered me another of their older tunes, I decided it was finally time to do the deed and dig into The B-52's discography proper-like.

While I know pretty nearly anyone reading this blog should know who The B-52's are, they may not know much about them prior to Love Shack (erm, like me, once). They started much earlier than that, forming in the late '70s, getting lumped in with that new wave of rock bands taking the music down roads yet adventured. Only, the five-piece didn't. Rather, they set their sights on rock music from its earliest days, after the rockabilly era, but prior to the Mersey beat era. Yes, I'm talkin' up that most wonderful vintage rock era of them all, the surf rock era!

I get why that style of guitar action had fallen by the wayside, a genre of music commonly associated with thoughts of preppy white kids getting into safe, society-acceptable hi-jinks. Just wasn't as sexy as the gritty greasers from which punk rock was getting its aesthetic from. Irony was on the cusp of musical birth though, and while they were quite sincere in their cribbing from white-crust Middle-Americana, one couldn't help but take The B-52's antics just a tad tongue-in-cheek.

Still, such sincerity makes their self-titled debut album the fun romp that it is. Not only did it trigger plenty of nostalgic endorphins for the Boomer sect, but posed the question of what such music would sound like if it took things an extra level. Rock Lobster was such a hit not just for its cartoony charm, but because it just keeps going! Imagine a Hanna-Barbara cartoon featuring Frankie Avalon on all the amphetamines. Oh, and the rest of the album's pretty cool too.

SadGirl - Vol. 3 - Head To The Mountains

self release: 2016

You gotta' hand it to Bandcamp newsletters: they are committed to deep dives within the website's archives, unearthing potential up-and-comers so you don't have to. I can't imagine the soul-sucking experience it must be, sifting through so many amateur musicians, some of which have clearly just cracked open their first freeware producing studio and uploaded their first sessions onto the website in the hopes of a few takes. Not that Bandcamp is anywhere near as bad as Soundcloud in this regard – I'd like to think Bandcamp is where artists release the material they at least believe has some potential of actual money being earned from it – but how many mediocre items must the newsletter writers go through before stumbling upon something worth consideration of a spotlight? Why, it's just like the street 'zines of old!

For sure I'd never have had SadGirl brought to my attention without one such Bandcamp newsletter. Indie rock with influences of archaic surf rock is so far outside my usual wheelhouse, I wouldn't have any clue where to start looking for a fix, much less the commitment to do the necessary digging. If a Bandcamp newsletter promoting surf rockers on their website claims this is a band worth checking out though, then by g'ar I'll check 'em out. Or a tidy little EP on the cheap at least.

And had I first heard the opening song Going Down without that recommendation, I probably would have skipped on by. There's nothing wrong with it, of course, indie rock that's enamoured with the scraggly aesthetics of '60s garage rock and all the punky attributes that'd be adopted in later decades. There's even some nifty echo and reverb on those guitar tones, though nothing that gives me those 'surf' feels, y'know? What's always drawn me to this genre is the open vista it creates with its sonics, and Going Down feels like its still sprung from the tiny rock halls SadGirl cut their mustard in. But hey, they're at least Californian, so some ties to the surf and all.

Nothing sells the punk vibe more than a one-minute ten follow-up in Drowning though, and Someone Else's Skin is a right noisy little number too. I like it fine, I guess, and there's some cool, wavy, echoing solo action, but still not really what I was expecting out of a surf rock newsletter recommendation. Fortunately, we have The Hand That Did The Deed, one of those jangly instrumental ditties that's as much spaghetti Western rock as it is surf rock – the two were synonymous back in the day anyway. Up to this day too, come to think of it. Desperado rock. That's the name it should be called. Someone should make a guide to classic rock to make the name authoritative.

So this EP wasn't what I expected or hoped for, not really convincing me SadGirl was actually a contemporary surf rock band. And yet, I still went and ordered their debut album, Water. Go figure.

Dead Coast - Shambolic

Annibale Records: 2016

It honestly could have remained a singular compilation indulgence. A specific genre itch that was tied to a specific period of time, and needn't be explored any further. Maybe I'd have gotten myself a Dick Dale collection as well, but surf rock wasn't something in need of diving fully and completely into. Much less wade through the vast, murky shores of indie rock seeking any contemporary bands carrying the music's legacy into the modern era, because there always are a few who find inspiration in super-niche styles of a bygone time. It's just what indie rock do, mang!

Fortunately, and remarkably coincidentally, I stumbled upon a Bandcamp newsletter highlighting all the contemporary bands carrying the music's legacy into the modern era. Like, almost instantly after I'd picked up that Surf Beat compilation. The only explanation for this astounding timing is the sweet Sirens of surf rock heard my longing wail across the Pacific shores, sending me a serenading screed whence I needed it most. Yeah, that tracks.

Thus here I am (rocking you like a hurricane?), reviewing the debut album from Dead Coast, a band out of London that clearly has its ears turned to the early '60s of the California coast. And not only am I reviewing their debut album, but I'm going with the digital copy, because all the hard copy versions were already sold out, but I wasn't gonna' deny myself some fresh musical exploration based on outdated conditionals.

And no, this isn't an all-in surf outing, just as much a 'Merseybeat' and psychedelic rock showing too (Lord Discogs also lists Garage Rock, Blues Rock, Stoner Rock, and Space Rock among the genres Shambolic entails, but what does Discogs know?). The most surfy of the songs on here are probably Ask The Dust, Hills Made Of Sand, Good In Her Blues, and Because I Know You. Mmm, such lush, dreamy reverb, bringing to mind lazy hazy days swaying by sunny shores under palm trees, salty waves lapping at your feet and all that good summer stuff. Plus, can't knock that authentic lo-fi recording quality, as though ripped from the sixty year old, 7” records.

That's only four songs out of a tracklist of thirteen. If the surf-inspired tunes don't cut it for you, you can always vibe on the garage-beat outings like Jenny Loves The Sun, Why Are We Still Together, and Just Don't Give Yourself (ooh, getting a White Stripes feeling off that one). Then there are the weirdo tunes, like ESP that's got that blues thing going, but features a Theremin (or approximate) solo. Or Overcome, an instrumental psychedelic freak-out that pauses at points for some slow jam time in a Tiki lounge (oh hi, Khruangbin, fancy seeing you here); Bossa For Stanley would fit in that lounge too.

So overall, a good first outing in this strange yet familiar musical realm I'm treading out into. I mean, it ought to have been, what with this album coming recommended by Bandcamp and all.

Various - Surf Beat

Not Now Music: 2016

At some point in my past, I realized I liked surf rock, even beyond it's starring role in Pulp Fiction. For sure there was that childhood interest in the Beach Boys laying the foundation, but it's more than that. The energetic pace, the abundance of echo and reverb, the general lack of vocals – why, it could almost be a form of 'techno'! My interest was cemented when a former boss put a bunch of it on the work playlist, a wonderful counter to the bland contemporary rock and pop we endured throughout the day. It got deep enough into my head that I concluded this was a genre of music that might be worth a little further exploration, just how fruitful a scene had sprung from Dick Dale's innovative guitar shredding.

However, the music came about when the single dominated the industry, and if I honestly wanted to take in all that this scene had to offer, I'd have to engage in some serious spelunking. Scouring the local used shops for records of various inches and lengths. Move beyond the famed bands like The Surfmen, The Revels, and The Champs, and discover unheralded acts like The Fireballs, The Frogmen, and The Trashmen. Then I'd have to go to the Meccas of surf rock itself: Malibu, Santa Barbara, San Diego, Topanga, Lower Trestles, Venice Beach, Zuma. Where surfers far and wide inspired musicians near and thin with their wave-ridin' skills, and undoubtedly flooded the market with a soundtrack to their carefree crazy pastime. Oh, the abundance of early '60 vinyl one is sure to find in all the pawn shops along the SoCal coastline, draining me of so much of my financial means, so very much.

Or I can pick up a 2-CD compilation of the stuff. That'll work too.

There's forty songs on Surf Beat, which may seem like a lot, but considering each tune only averages around two minutes, things breeze by like Frankie Avalon skimming the inside lane of the blue pipeline (is that how you do surfer jargon? I really haven't a clue). And while most of the famous ditties of the day are included, (no Wipeout, thank God), it isn't all surfer music all the time. Really, the term 'surf rock' only included a select few acts that made their mark in the surfer locales, while a lot of other rock bands of the day had their instrumentals often lumped in with the scene. Songs like The Ramrods' Riders In The Sky and The Outlaws' Indian Brave have more lineage with country music, painting pictures of galloping through the Sierra Range or Chihuahuan Desert. Ain't no surf in those parts of America, I reckon.

Which just confirms my inclination that 'surf rock' is but a small part of what I like to call 'desperado rock', taking the music's rebellious overtones and applying it to Americana like The Old West and The California Coast - a romanticism of an America that never was.

The Beach Boys - Sounds Of Summer: The Very Best Of

Capitol Records: 2003

First, it was The Police and Boney M. Then, it was Raffi and Disney singalongs. After that... not a whole lot. Music, which had been such a vital part of my early childhood, ceased having much influence. It was those darn Transformers, you see, taking my attention away for a few years, soon replaced by all sorts of marketable cartoons and media. Who has time for bands and songs when there's more The Real Ghostbuster toys to get, or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles bubblegum cards to buy, or Star Wars movies to obsess over? I still played the odd CD from my folks' collection, but seldom gave it much more thought than a passive distraction. One day though, after listening to a cheery compilation called Sun Jammin', the final track caught my attention like few songs had for a very, very long time. I had to hear more from this group, those sweet vocal harmonies, those starry-eyed lyrics of fun in the Caribbean sun and holiday bliss. The song was Kokomo.

Look, it was the '80s, and The Beach Boys’ most recent hit, so it was about the only way I'd have 'stumbled' upon them back then. Man though, after hearing that song, I scoured for more, the first time in my life I started digging for a specific group. It probably didn't hurt I was heavy into Archie Comics at the time (shad'up, we've all been there!), and saw kinship between the two representatives of clean-cut, all-American youth culture as envisioned by the late '50s and early '60s. I even compiled my findings onto my very first mixtape. True, all I had to work with was whatever was in my father's CDs, but as an initiation into the glorious world of music hunting obsession, The Beach Boys wasn't such a bad place to start.

Of course, had Tween Sykonee been around when Sounds Of Summer came about, I wouldn’t have needed to bother. There were numerous ‘Best Of’ and ‘Greatest Hits’ and ‘Essential Sounds’ on the market up through the ‘80s, but it didn’t seem The Beach Boys were quite done scoring the occasional charter even long after most figured their music way dated. Then the ‘90s hit and, well, yeah. With no new hits for a decade, the new millennium seemed as good a time as any for an authentic, definitive gathering of all their memorable, classic, vintage, glorious tunes. And Getcha Back, for some stupid reason (ugh... those ‘80s drums, so bad).

Sounds Of Summer is about as perfect a collection of Beach Boys music you could want without splurging on a zillion LPs for three or four great tunes surrounded by filler. It’s got all the surf rock hits, the hot-rodding car odes, the rowdy party tunes (Barbara Ann, so drunk), their introspective aging songs, and an assortment of odds and sods in the ensuing years. The only thing missing is selections from their wonderful Christmas album, but that’d defeat the ‘summer’ theme, wouldn’t it.

Brian Wilson - Smile

Nonesuch: 2004

Smile was meant to be Brian Wilson's magnum opus, a career defining album that would elevate Americana songcraft above anything those UK invasion bands offered. He had the creative drive, the resources (studio equipment access, peerless harmony group in The Beach Boys), and the benchmark to top with Pet Sounds. Unfortunately, he didn't have a Paul, John, or even Keith on his side, and when The Beatles came out with Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, poor ol' Brian realized he couldn’t top that ridiculously successful album. Despite having blueprints laid out, and even recording a few would-be singles that would feature in Smile, his efforts seemed so easily trumped by the Liverpool Four, it was more than he could take. Nervous breakdown beckoned, much of Smile abandoned, and one of rock music's most famous non-albums entered the realm of tantalizing “what if?” discourse.

And so it looked to remain as such, B. Wilson's mental acuity taking years upon decades to find its way out of grim-dark murk. Perseverance paid off though, eventually finding it within himself to write new music without the crushing pressure of critical and commercial success. Good thing too, because much of his output during the ‘90s wasn’t overly memorable. Old time fans supported him, but folks suspected his creative spark that propelled The Beach Boys to the top of the pop charts had long since faded. Just as well, Wilson truly no longer made for those ‘90s times anyway.

Then out of the blue, Brian announced that he’d finish his super Smile project after all, as it was intended way back in the ‘60s. Well shit, son (dad?), that’s awesome. Is there really any interest left for this album though? It’s a new century, a new millennium, and most ultra-fans of The Beach Boys had already pieced together finished songs and studio scraps for their own Smile bootlegs. Hell, Brian’s voice had considerably aged, and good luck getting the remaining actual Beach Boys into the studio after the bitter estrangement all those years had festered between the two parties.

All those concerns were for naught, the finished Smile a wonderful, amazing album from front to back. Essentially three parts, the first captures the nostalgic memories of carefree, youthful summers, especially while vacationing in touristy American locales, with Heroes And Villains the main attraction here. The second part goes more wistful and reflective, the big song off here being dreamy Surf’s Up. And the final part gets goofy and experimental; some pieces mere snippets of sound effects before changing gears to something else. Like, hot damn, that transition from the fire-storm of Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow into the desolate In Blue Hawaii! Then to cap the whole experience off with the mighty Good Vibrations, you can’t help but want to stand and cheer for Brian Wilson, for seeing his vision come into being, triumphant in all the adversity he’d faced. Plus, y’know, there’s just a ton of great music all throughout Smile too.

Various - Pulp Fiction

MCA Records: 1994

Shame I didn't get to this CD a little sooner – say, last yearish. I could’ve generated cheap traffic by piggy-backing off clickbait articles like “Hey, It’s The 20th Anniversary Of That Movie You Can’t Stop Quoting!” But alas, we're already two weeks deep into 2015, long past the expiry date of people nostalgically revisiting Pulp Fiction's 1994 release. Who cares that it came out mid-November of that year, thus making us but two months late for twentieth-anniversary prestige. Hell, as I recall, Tarantino's opus to the mush of storytelling didn't catch popular buzz until well into '95, finding more fanfare on the home video market where all us impressionable underage Gen-X types could finally watch it. And hoo, what a movie to behold, making not a lick of sense but strangely captivating as Hollywood stars waxed bullshit over obscene circumstances.

Plus the music! Wow, where did ol' Quentin find all that awesome music? His personal record collection apparently, turning many of his flicks into as much a mixtape as they are ‘70s genre-sploitations. Of course, with over two decades to study his methods, having rare, odd, and perfect tunes’ become the expectant norm, and unfortunately nothing’s made quite the impact that the surf rock of Misirlou did. Still, Tarantino made a style of music that had been absolutely dead for three decades hip again. That’s quite an achievement, and though it didn’t resurrect into a reinvigorated scene, it did create a new generation of crate divers digging a little further into obscure musical cul-de-sacs. Erm, not me though – I still had ‘techno’.

So the surf rock is primarily what Pulp Fiction’s music is remembered for, and for good reason. Beyond the killer opener, at least a third of the music on this soundtrack is in that style. Another significant chunk is taken up by dark, bluesy country, though not always specifically from that scene. Heavy rockers Urge Overkill do a cover of Neil Diamond’s Girl, You’ll Soon Be A Woman, and then-newcomer Maria McKee goes full-on whisky folk, but every track has that ‘outlaw’ feeling that Tarantino loves writing into protagonists. Not so much always the ‘bad guys’, as he’s featured his fair share of vigilantes too. More like desperados, and can you think of any sub-sub American culture that was filled with those sorts than the outlaws of the country? Sure, the surfer nation! Nothing caught that vintage American West desperado spirit like freeloaders taking on the mighty waves of the Pacific Ocean, risking life and limb to prove Man was undefeatable in the face of his Mother Nature’s fury. Well, the music suggested as such.

Look, I’m just waxing bullshit here for the sake of my own ego (like a Tarantino movie!). Even if you haven’t seen Pulp Fiction (!), you’ve probably seen a parody or two, and know its music and culled bits of dialog from those. You don’t need me telling you to check this out, because you already have, even if only by cultural osmosis.

Neil Young - Archives, Vol. 1: Disc 0 - Early Years (1963-1965)

Reprise Records: 2009

It figures. No sooner do I finally start on a new letter than I get hit with a bloody box-set. So long, forward momentum. Tackling this sucker will easily eat up a week's worth of reviews. True, I could give a quick overview and be done with it, but as with The Electro Compendium from last year, it'd leave an obscene gap of content on this blog if I didn't keep some record of my progress. Fortunately, Neil Young: Archives is nicely divided up into manageable chunks, so at least things will move along in a logical fashion. Obviously, if you don't give a flookin' Canook about Neil Young, check back in around seven days – I should be back to regular(ish) electronic music again.

You’re still with me? Aww, you're awesome, really you are. Gotta know what's up with some more good ol' Shakey, does ya'? Well, if you stick around, you'll find out just about everything there is to know about the first ten years of Mr. Young's musical career. More than you'll likely care to know, if I'm honest – heck, it was more than I cared about, though it is interesting from a fan's perspective. Whether you got the CD, DVD (yo), or Blu-Ray version of Archives, Vol. 1, everything was split into chronological sections. It also includes Live At The Fillmore East and Live At Massey Hall, which I've covered already; plus his oddball movie Journey Through The Past, but I won't cover that since this isn't Musician Movie Critic. Oh, and Live At Canterbury House was apparently a bonus DVD/Blu-Ray, but since it wasn't part of the original Archives, Vol. 1 MP3 download bundle, I won't cover that either. Whoa, a breeze of wind all of a sudden rushed through my apartment, as though dozens of people breathed a sigh of release.

Okay, let’s get this thing started, by starting at the start of Young’s career – back when he was still young-Young! (eh? eh...? No, wait, come back...). Most were first introduced to ol’ Neil when he was part of the Los Angeles band Buffalo Springfield, but before heading out there, he played for an old-timey surf-rock band called The Squires. Since they were still teens, the boys mostly played high-school dances and community halls around Manitoba and Ontario, hardly the sort of exposure one could hope for breaking into the big time. They did manage one official single with a couple instrumentals called Aurora and The Sultan though. It’s, well, surf-rock. Cowabunga?

Everything else on Early Years (1963-1965) is previously unreleased material. This includes leftover Squires material that never saw the light of day, a few blues numbers he recorded with Comrie Smith, and an extended recording of a studio session featuring early takes of Sugar Mountain and Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing. These sound like hastily recorded demos likely intended to spread around Toronto or Motown. Pft, you’ll never make it there with such folksy songs, kid. Go west, my son, go west.