Notes

The following originally appeared in the GRAND JUNCTION FREE PRESS:

Cowabunga!

Rock n’ roll inspiration lurks in many odd places.  Jungle rhythms… military cadences… barnyard squawks… and electronic bleeps — all of these have triggered great rock songs during the genre’s half-century existence.   But in the late 1950s and early 1960s, west coast rockers found their muse on the beaches of southern California. 

Although the sport of surfing first came to California from Hawaii in the late 19th century, and gained a real foothold in 1907 when it was promoted by the Pacific Electric Railway as a means of drawing tourists to Redondo Beach via the company’s famous “red car” trolleys, it was in 1959 that surfing became a bona fide craze, thanks to its depiction in the hit motion picture GIDGET.  The film starred Sandra Dee and James Darren as hot, young surfers, and sparked renewed interest in the sport — as well as a spate of imitative “beach movies.”  (Future Academy Award-winner Cliff Robertson also appeared in GIDGET as “the Big Kahuna,” a nickname nicked by the film’s screenwriters from Duke Kahanamoku, the Hawaiian swimming champ credited with inventing the modern form of surfing.)

In the months following the release of GIDGET, the beaches of California were swarmed by “gremmies” and “grommets” “carving” and “boosting” off briny “bumps” and “dunes.”  And with the teenaged hordes with boards came peculiar forms of speech, apparel… and, of course, music.

To many people, the phrase “surf rock” will conjure memories of the Beach Boys and Jan and Dean.  These bands were exemplars of the “vocal” school of surf rock, and derived their tight harmonies from the doo wop groups of the previous decade. 

But genuine surf enthusiasts know that the real surf rock action was found on records by instrumental rockers like Boston-born Richard Monsour, who under his better-known identity as Dick Dale stunned his generation with the guitar attack of “Let’s Go Trippin’” in 1961.  This record is generally considered the first true surf rock single, and it was quickly followed by other instrumental classics like the Surfaris’ “Wipe Out,” the Chantays’ “Pipeline,” the Pyramids’ “Penetration” and the Tornados’ naughty “Shootin’ Beavers.”  

With the popularity of these and like-minded records, labels quickly began assembling their ace sessions men into ad hoc surf combos like the Revells (which included Glen Campbell and Phil Spector’s favorite drummer, Hal Blaine) and the Marketts (who were the collective brainchild of Joe Saraceno, the producer who had already helmed some of the best albums of the Tacoma, Washington-based instrumental group, the Ventures, for Liberty Records). 

During the first half of the 1960s, the wave of surf rock grew into a tsunami, traveling far inland before cresting.  Bands that hailed from landlocked states like the Trashmen from Minnesota scored surf hits such as “Surfin’ Bird” and “My Woodie.”  Even Colorado produced one of the great surf rock songs, when the Astronauts — five young Boulder musicians — touched down on the charts with their reverb-soaked version of Lee Hazlewood’s “Baja.”