Locals Only by the Surf Punks

 

   The Surf Punks’ Locals Only might well be the guiltiest of guilty pleasures on this list. It’s not deep or profound, the musicianship is basic, and the songs are simplistic and filled with junior high locker room humor.

    But in my JuCo days I thought it was hysterically funny and I played it all the time. Formed by producer/drummer/singer Dennis Dragon (The Captain of Captain and Tennille’s younger brother) and Drew Steele in Malibu, the surfers/musicians seemed to be hosting the beach party that I wanted to get into. Their first album, My Beach, had a couple of good songs and lots of pieces of other songs, but it was their second one, Locals Only, where it all seemed to come together. Unlike the first album, there was an actual band for the second album, and though most of the songs were written by Dragon/Steele, stand out contributions also came from Mark “the Shark” Miller’s sliding bar chord classic Shark Attack, and Scott “the Valley” Goddard’s I’m a Valley (he wrote Manny Moe and Jack with the Dickies as well as Cowpunk). The musicianship was all pretty basic, but there were a lot of audio surprises mixed into the songs, making the sound of the album far more interesting.

    The live shows were where the Surf Punks stood out. They weren’t true punks like the rest of the LA scene. These were not pasty white guys screaming about how their parents didn’t love them enough and how tough their life was, wearing torn black clothes and safety pins. The Surf Punks were a little bit older, in surf trunks, day-glo tank tops and water polo caps, and instead of angst, they were singing songs showing the hedonistic pleasure of their beach lives. In the title track, their verses of trips to “Diego” ("those boys threw rocks at me!") and Ventura ("they not think we funny!"), end with the party that I wanted to be at: Now we have beach parties, naked girls will do the swim. I knew their naked girls would be big bosomed blonde beach babes and not the frightening looking goth chicks that were on the LA punk rock scene (Susana Hoffs and Jane Weidlin notwithstanding).

    I saw the Surf Punks twice, once in Hollywood and once in “the Valley” and both times they delivered. Drew rode in on his skate board guitar, Jerry Weber walked all over the stage with his keyboard around his neck, Andy the lifeguard came out of his tower-yes, there was a lifeguard tower on stage-to peel off some lead licks, bikini clad chicks coming out to dance to “Big Top” (when are those things gonna pop?) Mark the Shark wearing his fin, Scott the Valley singing his songs, and Dennis keeping a no-nonsense 4/4 beat. It appealed to me and my water polo playing buddys.

    Locals Only catches the wave of the Surf Punks party, and now, 40 years later when I can go to Malibu anytime, I still want to find where the Spoiled Brats from Malibu hang out.