The Beach Boys
Surf's Up

Published in 1971, "Surf's Up" is the last decent work of a group now divided by internal dissensions and the slow, inexorable mental deterioration of Brian Wilson. An ambiguous work and difficult to fully appreciate critically as it follows the excellent "Sunflower," a work that was underestimated at the time, rich in sublime musical early offerings.

"Surf's Up" is an album that contains both quite frivolous and pretentious tracks like the initial environmentalist "Don't Go Near the Water" and delightful pieces like Carl Wilson's choral and determined "Long Promised Road" or the universal and mystical "Feel Flows." The emotionally rich moments present on the record certainly don't end here, evidenced by the innocent "Take A Load Off Your Feet" by Al Jardine, the melancholic and vulnerable "A Day In The Life Of A Tree," and Bruce Johnston's successful "Disney Girls (1957)," with its nostalgic sounds that let us savor once again the great musical talent of the Beach Boys in pairing harmonies and chords. However, the record maintains an uneven course and, at times, unnecessarily eccentric. This is due to Mike Love's stubbornness, who in this case tries to stir public opinion on civil rights with the sarcastic tones of "Student Demonstration Time," a useless rewrite of "Riot In Cell Block Number Nine," an old R&B track by the Leiber & Stoller duo. Also noteworthy is the absence of Dennis Wilson at the compositional level, who in the previous "Sunflower" had gifted the band's repertoire with the energetic "Slip On Through" and the timeless melody of "Forever."

But it’s at this point that something unexpected and wonderful happens to "Surf's Up." Brian Wilson emerges just for a moment from his mental silence and remembers that just a few years earlier he was considered a musical genius. Almost as if by magic, he returns to doing what he does best, which is composing music at a higher level. Brian thus offers, in the finale, his personal paranoid confessions in the splendid "Til I Die," a track completely immersed in the contemplative solitude of its author, and retrieves, from the lost masterpiece "Smile," the majestic and legendary "Surf's Up," which gives this record a triumphant, superb, unexpected, and well-deserved conclusion.