The California variant on punk’s tradition become inextricably linked to beach culture. It’s nor really surprising simply by dint of proximity. But also the same sort of lay-about scumbags endeavoring to get high and ride a board all day long aren’t drastically removed from either skaters or punkers. It was inevitable. And while hardcore, for the most part, is tied to thise sort of tanned beach goers, there were some poppier efforts to emerge from the combination of getting high, surfing and listen to big name, first wave punk groups.
Judging from the cover of the Surf Punks’ first long player, simply titled My Beach, it’s easy to tell that these folks were as connected to Iggy Pop’s lesser, latter day efforts as they were to Blondie. It’s as much radio ready pop (or new wave, I suppose) than punk. In more than a few cases, though, the whole thing works.
Leading off the Surf Punks’ album, “My Beach” is as simple as it sounds. There’s not too much there apart from claiming territory, but it’s rendered in nourish, eighties’ punk terms. Directly following that effort is another feat of lyrical absurdity called “My Wave.”
Beginning with the sounds of a few belches, the melody doesn’t sound detached from what preceded it. And neither do the lyrics. Malibu beaches, apparently, under went some turf wars over the years – at some points, these skirmishes reached into the water. It’d be bizarre watch two surfers go after each other on a board, but surely it’s happened. Probably, these guys and their cohort were to blame. “Punch Out at Malibu’s” pretty rad regardless of its real life implications.
Either way, a few weird Devo-esque references crop up as a result of infrequent harnessing of electronics. “The Surfmen’s” just one example of this. But there’s more – and those deadpan, droid like vocals don’t work to distance the Surf Punks from that better known Akron cum Los Angeles group.
After a few more albums, Surf Punks called it a day. Most likely the split was based on not just the lack of caring from the proper punk scene, but by the mid-eighties, there was clearly less of a market place for willfully commercial punk. The scene went bellow the underground. And the Surf Punks were never well connected enough to have a clue. Interesting artifact, though, and not too bad to listen to as long as taking things seriously isn’t your main concern.