The Beach Boys – Surf’s Up Review

From the very first moments of Surf’s Up, the revolutionary changes to The Beach Boys and their usual surf-rock sound are clear. Had listeners of the time missed out on Pet Sounds, or at the very least been placated by its instrumental masterclass and the joyous mix hiding the darker spots from Brian Wilson, they would have been horrified by this 1971 classic. A last hurrah for The Beach Boys who would soon deal with NASCAR-loving tunes and a shuffle in members. From just the first few notes of the cantankerous-sounding instrumentals, the warning not to enter the waters aptly titled Don’t Go Near the Water, a severe mood change is showcased immediately. Wilson, still reeling from those ill-fated Smile sessions and holding onto the hang-ups which followed Pet Sounds, takes a back seat on what remains the most challenging album The Beach Boys ever released.  

This is the end of the trail not just for the band but the sound which popularised them. The death of surf rock is no period of mourning but for The Beach Boys, who were so closely tied to the genre, to find irony in the end of its profitability, is fascinating. Surf’s Up remains a staggering and, crucially, consistent, piece of work. Those vocal changes are a matter of Wilson being missed, and less involved in the production choices. They sound thinner, fragile, even. Surf’s Up uses this to its advantage though, even if Wilson is sorely missed at this time in The Beach Boys’ period of creativity, his additions here are not his finest hour. Take a Load Off Your Feet sounds like a novelty piece, the little car horns and metal clangs in a similar vein to the left-field musical interests of Wilson at the time. It pales when compared to the preceding track Long Promised Road, one of the band’s best efforts.  

Surf’s Up is a consistent powerhouse of ever-changing genres. Student Demonstration Time is a chance for the band to wade into protest pieces and while the instrumentals, the wailing police sirens and the whining guitar work is great, it feels like a bait and switch. Recalling the moments of massacre at Kent State but little more, suggesting people stay inside at times of crisis or political strife, is weak handwringing which reduces the power of a very strong instrumental section. The Beach Boys adapt Riot in Cell Block Number 9 exceptionally well, this White Album-like explosion of guitar and megaphone-fed vocals would be an all-time great if the lyrics had been handled with the same care. And yet the real focus is Wilson, whose limited interjections and the reason for them are charted on A Day in the Life of a Tree.  

Lookin’ at Tomorrow and Day in the Life of a Tree feels like a powerful pairing. From the desperation to look for tomorrow, to do more with the day behind you and the regret of not making the most of it on the first piece to the terror of waning creative want on the latter, it gives Surf’s Up its emotional high. Forget the environment, this is a song where Wilson reveals the rise and fall of his artistic clarity. His autumnal period in the wake of Pet Sounds and the initial reaction to Smile recordings are found here. No ability to slow down, the wilting creative output from Wilson is sincerely heartbreaking to hear and reading between the lines of this piece as Til I Die plays on in the background, asking just how long that creative wind will blow, hammers home the point of Surf’s Up. A stronger piece than Pet Sounds, but not as memorable as those hits Wilson was toying with. The rise is often more interesting than the fall, but not in this case. A monumental achievement from the band which, over time, has found the time to heal from those challenges.