Steve 'Flash' JuonCRINGE. Merriam-Webster and the Urban Dictionary may disagree on the definition, but “Surf or Die” by the Surf MC’s makes me prefer the original: “to recoil in distaste.” That was my immediate reaction to the title track, showing the four members of this group to be a thinly veiled, California based version of the Beastie Boys who say “gnarly” and “radical.” Actually the modern definition of cringe suits this well too. It was embarrassing to hear a multiple generations removed take on the Incredible Bongo Band’s “Apache” played as surf rock for a terrible rap song. They weren’t interpolating the original, they were remaking the Sugarhill Gang version, which was itself remaking all the club deejays who used that break for their live sets. It loses all cool here.
Even though both “Surf or Die” and “Skate or Die!” came out in the same year, there’s no possible way to confuse the two. The latter took the rising popularity of skateboarding and made it into a fun computer game (later converted to NES and other home consoles). The former took the waning popularity of surfing and helped it jump the shark. Even one of the group’s members is shown “getting air” on a skateboard, betraying the very thing that gave them their name. Considering a lame record executive put these Beastie ripoffs together and gave them that name I doubt they cared one bit.
I can’t even begin to fathom that anybody in California other than a cast member of Beverly Hills 90210 could relate to “That’s Cali for Ya.” For perspective, this album came out the same year as rap records by Ice-T (“Rhyme Pays”), N.W.A. (“N.W.A. and the Posse”) and Too $hort (“Born to Mack”). Who in Cali could relate to these amateurish raps when there was legitimately hard raps coming out in their own state? Who outside of California could? This isn’t relatable to anybody at home or anywhere else, to the point it makes me question if they’re from CA at all.
The intro of “Can’t Get a Tan” sounds like somebody barfing repeatedly and fit how I was feeling by this point. “The sun keeps beamin/the boys keep dreamin.” STOP. Listen to what you’re saying. Who wrote those lyrics? I hope you didn’t, but the guy following him is the worst Ad-Rock impersonator that I’ve ever heard. “Yeah I practice ten hours a day! Fingers burning up but still I play.” Play what, the skin flute? Shut the fuck up dude and “drink a few beers” like you say you want to.
“A shopping spree is no stranger to me.” Never has anyone made the idea of spending money sound less cool. Every word any one of them says is repugnant. There has to be someone to blame for this record’s existence. I’d like to blame AI but artificial intelligence wasn’t making music in ’87. This still sounds like it was delivered by a time machine to the past though with the instructions to make them bigger than Run-D.M.C. and Aerosmith put together. Why? Profit? Nobody could have made a dime on these lame rich kids acting like rap buffoons. They’re not cool, they’re not fun, they’re not good, and they’re not remembered by anyone. That’s exactly how it should be.