certain nuances of behaviour and taste that distinguish older surfers from the current age.
It’s a melancholy task writing about the lads who were our companions in the earlier days, so many of them gone, nevertheless we owe it to them to remind the current crop of board riders of the depth of their intellect, their grand appreciation of music and shared mastery of the intricacies of dance and rhythm both on the sea and on land.
Whereas these days surfing is all about viewing the geewhizshockery of the size of Nazare, the sly snakery of Fanning and Parkinson at Snapper and the wretched music that accompanies short surfing clips on popular websites, in latter days we were the masters of both our environment and the ability to choose music that defined our generation.
That we had. Buckets of it.
Women flocked to be at our side at the surf club dances as they knew our mastery of the surf enabled us to tastefully interpret the complicated rhythms of the music of the day.
Brubeck had his 3:4:3 phrasing, Beethoven his control of competing strings and Tschakovsky his masterful blending of complex and emotive orchestral compositions.
This was our metier and unlike the current generation we didn’t allow foreign substances to overrule our native compunctions.
However, in order for this generation to become more attuned to what has passed them by I’m happy to include a rare clip of a subtle number written by The Rivingtons, an avant-garde group of neo-intellectuals of the 60’s.
Complex and guttural: a piece for the ages and one responsible for the massive deterioration of the floorboards and foundations of the Collaroy Surfclub in 1963.
Thank you and good evening.