There is a scene in The Beach Boys and Brian Wilson biopic Love & Mercy where Paul Dano’s Wilson unravels the image of the band as sun-loving surfers. A weak image in hindsight, weaker still given their inability to surf at all. Artists portraying themselves as caricatures of genre is nothing special. Everyone from Ozzy Osbourne to Johnny Cash maintained an image right through their careers but for them, it was a chance to be a cold and revered King of Darkness or the mysterious, travelling Man in Black. Giddy surfers with a light love of the ocean and the burning fire are of little interest and it remains a borderline miracle that The Beach Boys not only stood out but shook this image off. Surfin’ U.S.A. is, at best, a dated affair.
Instrumentally sound ideas give way to the memorable moments of the 1960s. A swinging sense of freedom, a song like Surfin U.S.A. can hardly be forgotten. But its lyrical simplicity, even without the shadow of Pet Sounds and the irony-filled title of Surf’s Up, falls flat. The number one surfing group in the country would spend their time whittling away at short, sweet sounds which are short enough to never contemplate. But think about the lyrics of Surfin’ U.S.A. and feel the emotional and instrumental weight take centre. Those harmonies are still impressive even when used for nothing more than musical stock, everyday lyrics wanting people to have nothing more than a linear view of the world. Of course, it lacks depth, the pop efforts of the time were dealing with the thrills of love and danceable numbers. A song which has been used in advert after advert, one where the instrumental follow-up, slick riffs and a bit of organ work from Wilson, are forgotten.
What follows the title track is little more than ineffective, pop-charting standards with vaguely interesting instrumentals or vocal works. Or at least it would be if a shock cover of Misirlou was not the third track. Sudden depths are uncovered. While The Beach Boys are barely a lick on the playing style Dick Dale offered that instrumental powerhouse, it is a refreshingly, if only slightly darker, suggestion of new sound from a band finding their feet firmly planted in the sandy dunes of Cali-forn-i-a. Other than this brief venture, much of The Beach Boys’ work here sounds like a regular old riff on blues and rock of the time. Stoked follows on the instrumentally-heavy Misirlou with a shout of the title and little more. A jam more than a song. Light surprises from Lonely Sea can be found, but the fun-loving expectation collapses the softer, sterner approach, the backing vocals as charming as ever but never overhauling their image.
Soppy emotional highs like Lonely Sea are far deeper than anything Surfin U.S.A. should feature. It is a welcome break yet feels out of place and overly sentimental. The A-Side drifts from an image seemingly created for the sake of giving the band a sense of identity amid a sea of similar outfits. But the inverse is a horridly aged one, despite the excellent and correct suggestion of bringing on an image for its members. Noble Surfer is dreck and the later songs, the jam sessions, while enjoyable, are washed-up occasions with no intentions beyond staggering the runtime. Hamburger stands, missing boards and the inevitable love angle on Finders Keepers is both impressive given the band fits all this into a two-minute song, but also tiring as it’s the same. A one-trick album with some readily available jams is enough of a reason to listen to Surfin U.S.A., even if it is just once.
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