Music:
Burgh Island
EP by Ben Howard
Island Records
Following his platinum-selling album, Every Kingdom, Devon surfer and dark-folk guitarist/vocalist Ben Howard has broken right out of the surf world and into the mainstream. And despite playing super mellow, twangy guitar tunes, he’s no Jack Johnson. His voice is haunting and he uses it to create a dark and subtle atmosphere that jars interestingly with the more melodic folk – think Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan – that also infuses his sound. Raised in a musical household, he started writing his own tunes as young child, so now that he’s in his mid-twenties, he’s a comfortable, mature composer. The Burgh Island EP is put out by Island Records, his home since the days when Quiksilver and the surf community helped start him off. Burgh Island is a more ‘produced’ selection (four songs) than his first album, Every Kingdom was. There’s more going on, the guitar is electric, the harmonies are more layered and the sound is deeper, thicker overall. “I don’t need nobody, to be alone,” he sings in To Be Alone, which creates a clever mix between an eerie, Bladerunner-type of vibe and a catchy pop tune. His shows around the world keep selling out and the awards keep piling in, so it looks like the only chance Ben Howard has of being alone at the moment is when he’s out in the lineup enjoying Nature’s antidote to fame and fortune. Good for Ben, and good for the surf community for helping launch him. ADR

Film:
Minds in the Water
Directed by Justin Krumb Written by Steve Barilotti
www.mindsinthewater.com
Aaah … Dave Rastovich. Thank God for Dave Rastovich. Some people come down hard on him for being a ‘pro free surfer’, but just ignore them. He is many thing, including a phenomenally talented surfer, blessed with skills and intuition that put him at the level of his childhood contest peers like Joel Parkinson and Mick Fanning. He’s also a man who has faith in his beliefs – enough to let them lead him through life, which makes his a truly honest life, despite the fact he’s being paid by Billabong. Thankfully for us, he’s also intelligent and able to disseminate his accumulated knowledge in articulate, coherent ways. All this makes him an excellent propagandist for whales, dolphins and the oceans.
Minds in the Water is primarily about Rasta, though it also features several of his co-conspirators like Chris del Moro and Howie Cook, all of them dedicating their best years to standing up for cetaceans. It covers Rasta’s journey into activism and several of his journeys in aid of it. So there’s the Taiji incident, in which Rasta and crew paddled out to form a human shield in front of the dolphin slaughterers; there are trips to Chile and International Whaling Commission meetings/protests, and there are the TransparentSea journeys, down Australia’s East Coast whale migration route, and again, down California’s. Written by longtime Surfer magazine editor and TSP contributor Steve Barilotti (look for his upcoming film about counter-culture artist, Rick Griffin), the film sails along at a fair clip, partly because Rasta has packed so much into his decade or so of pro surfer/activism. He’s not slowing down, either. As I type, Rasta is paddling up the west coast of New Zealand in a marathon effort to stop seabed mining in the area and to save the almost-extinct Maui’s dolphin. This film serves as a reminder to his detractors: say what you like about him. He won’t hear you because he’s too busy actually doing something.

Book
Shock Waves
By Hanabeth Luke, Edited by Tim Baker
www.hanabethluke.tumblr.com
Three great things about Hanabeth Luke’s account of the Bali bombing (excerpted on p.78): It’s heavy, but it’s also a sweet and cheerful slice-of-life tale of love and surf in the heartland of the UK surfing scene. Her home village, St. Agnes, has spawned generations of great surfers and institutions (like Surfers Against Sewage) that form much of the backbone of British surfing. Unlike Newquay, its more commercial cousin up the coast, St. Agnes is a typical seaside Cornish village where everything centres around the pub and the beach. If anyone is interested in how the Cornish surf scene rolls along, this book will clue you in beautifully. Second, the structure of the tale is neat, appropriate and often deeply moving. Losing her boyfriend Marc is obviously the deepest wound of many caused by the bomb, and their love story is the key narrative device of this book, but it’s also a strong ‘coming-of-age’ memoir, and it reads smoothly from start to finish. Finally, the recuperation and rehab element is hugely impressive. Hanabeth, matured by the trauma, becomes a woman-warrior of sorts, determined to make the most of the post-bomb publicity that endlessly stalks her, using it as a force for good. Her showdown with then-Prime Minister Tony Blair is an opportunity grasped with both hands and deftly handled. She’s clearly a damn good surfer, too. Some say the Bali bomb was terrorism directly aimed at surfers. Well, here’s a definitive account of it from our side, and a powerful, positive salvo against warmongers everywhere.

The Relentless Powers of Three surf documentary follows pro surfers Tom Lowe, Fergal Smith and fearless photographer Mickey Smith on their quest to tackle Irelands biggest and most dangerous waves.

Tom and Fergal followed closely by the lens of Mickey Smith have made it their mission to ride these waves, some of which have never been surfed before. This winter was a brutal one even by Ireland’s standards, the West Coast was repeatedly battered by monstrous swells exploding onto exposed bits of slab and reef, often way out to sea and only accessible by jet ski.

We found waves that have never been seen or surfed before,” says Lowe, “No one has been in there because they don’t know where they are. And even if they did, they probably wouldn’t want to surf them because they are dangerous and you would have to be pretty mad to do it.”

The boys were looking for a certain type of wave, not just your average three foot sunny beach break. The mission was to find the shallowest waves exploding into knee deep water onto solid rock reef. The shallower the depth of the water, the better and deeper the barrel. Some of the waves surfed in this movie are literally death defying if they go wrong – the boys put everything on the line in search for the deepest, heaviest barrel.

The film effortlessly captures the true ferocity, bleakness and brutal cold of Ireland in the winter. The guys would often have to get up at 5am having been battered in the waves the day before and drive long distances to get to the breaks. Often it would take them over an hour to reach the waves on their jet skis (negotiating massive swells in the process) meaning they would turn up freezing cold – not the best way to prepare for a surf that could be a career finisher if you get it wrong! This editing, style and music of the movie captures this perfectly, so much so I felt freezing cold watching the movie at the premier!

Talking of career finishers Tom Lowe nearly had one of those days at Ireland’s most famous big wave spot Aileen’s. Tom and Fergal were surfing with two of the biggest names in big wave surfing Twiggy Baker and Greg Long. It was a massive day with only about 50% of the waves make able making the conditions absolutely lethal. The guys had been paddling into a couple and Tom was feeling pretty confident. He decided he wanted to try towing in with the ski to see if he could get one of the monstrous barrels. He got a smaller one to start with but wanted one of the whoppers. He was towed in slightly late into a huge bomb right under the cliffs. Tom stalled a bit on the wave and the mammoth lip of the wave exploded right on top of Tom, firing him right into the impact zone completely helpless, unable to move.

“I dislocated my shoulder, but got off lucky,” Lowe says. I thought I’d broken my arm. My neck and back were messed up. It’s the worst thing I’ve been through. I screamed. Fergal came to pick me up and he missed me the first time because another wave came. We were coming close to the rocks but I grabbed with my right arm and just held on and he took me out of the impact zone. It took me six weeks of rehab to get back.”

The Powers of Three surf documentary captures the true fearlessness and camaraderie you need to tackle these sort of waves – the team effort involved is huge and as you’ll see from the movie life saving at times. The filming from the water and land is awe inspiring, whether it will inspire you to tackle the 50 foot Irish waves in the middle of winter is up to you!

Head to the Relentless site right now to watch the full length movie, heaps of bonus footage and interviews with big wave legends Twiggy Baker and Greg Long.

Click here to watch Powers Of Three.

One Winter Story

By Sally Lundburg and Elizabeth Pepin

A review of this excellent film on the journey of big-wave surfer Sarah Gerhardt is long overdue, so … apologies for that. Gerhardt’s an extraordinary woman who braved years of rips and currents to become the first woman to surf macking Mavericks, back in 1999. As this excellent documentary by filmmakers Lundburg and Pepin notes, Sarah’s approach to Mavs was “a deliberate flirtation with death in exchange for a firsthand taste of the stars.”
In a way, Sarah’s ascent to Mavericks was the logical extension of a life history of overcoming challenges. Born Sarah Livermore in 1974, she grew up on California’s Central Coast; when she was a little girl, her mom developed muscular dystrophy, and her dad soon left home to work at sea. Not too long after, her older sister took off, and Sarah was left to care for her mother. Sarah was big and tall for her age and was bullied for it, but she excelled in basketball. She loved the ocean, too, and found relief from her asthma in the water. After a while, her dad bought her a wetsuit and a surfboard, and then … everything changed.
It was the pure freedom of surfing that swept her away, eventually to the North Shore, where she attracted the attention of big-wave surfer, Ken Bradshaw. Their relationship developed as he mentored her, and eventually she was towed into a big wave at Outside Alligators. Rather than freaking her out, the experience lit a fire. “I really latched on to surfing bigger waves,” she says.
When she reached the end of the line with Bradshaw, her flight home coincided precisely with the death of her mother. “I lost it,” she says. “I lost it for a long time.” Overwhelmed with guilt, she determined to get her spiritual priorities straight. She began hiking the coastal range, her mind considering the Psalms of David. She went back to school, then moved north to attend the University of California at Santa Cruz (she eventually earned a Ph.D in Physical Chemistry). There she reencountered Mike Gehrhardt, a local big-wave surfer she’d met in Hawaii, and began a new chapter in her life – a chapter that would lead her out to face the unruly cold-water bombs off Pillar Point, where she would make surfing history and undergo the ultimate personal transformation.
“I live as though I don’t have any limitations,” Sarah says without hubris. “Surfing at Mavericks makes me forget about them. I just let go.”
Let yourself go and catch this rich hour of documentary, which has won a bunch of awards over the past two years. – DK

No one would have minded if the surf was crap – this being New York – but it fired throughout the three-day event, which felt like a blessing upon this festival’s inaugural year. I was there as a judge, but surf duties had downtime priority, and though I missed Day One, I spoke with Chile-based eco-activist/film-maker, Josh Berry that night. He apologised for being spaced out but, he said, having surfed smooth overhead barrels all day, he was only half on this planet. “I just couldn’t believe I was in New York.”
On the Saturday, Long Beach and Rockaway offered groomed, glassy barrels in the 3-4ft range, and by Sunday the rock jetty A-frames had upped to 5-6ft. Co-organiser Tyler Breuer commented on what a pleasure it was to see “pumping waves for the whole weekend with so many esteemed film directors from around the world getting worked in the NY surf.” He and his crew did a great job, and Hui clearly approved, so he had a right to take pleasure in such happy misfortunes.

Oh yes, the festival. There was, ostensibly, nothing odd about the streetside sign saying “Surf Movie Tonight”. A little nostalgic maybe, but not jarring, until you flashed, again, that you were actually in core of the Big Apple, 10 minutes walk from World Trade Center ruins and never more than a block from an all-night deli. A surf film festival here? How … strange, and yet how …core. And as the general public strode by, the way people do in NY, NY, conversations halted mid-flow as they noticed the overspilling throng of blond hair, surf wear, and eyes glazed from days of barrels. The throng, for their part, were a happy mix of New Yorkers, regional pilgrims and international drop-ins who came in nightly waves so that every show sold out – 2,500 people watched 26 films over three days. The manager of Tribeca Cinemas said he’d never seen so many people sitting on the floor to see a movie and be so excited about it. The post-show Q&A sessions offered great insights from the film-makers in attendance. Favourites that I caught: Bill Ballard’s background to Archy, a brilliantly personal look at ‘80s icon and addiction-battler Matt Archbold, that brought this delicate creative process to life, allowing us to further appreciate the humble Ballard’s great talents as much as Archy’s. The guest of honour was John Milius. Somehow, watching Big Wednesday for the umpteenth time became magical with Milius and co-writer Denny Aaberg sitting at the back of the theatre. They showed a short, Little Big Wednesday, beforehand – a behind the scenes look at the making of the big one, with hilarious, dry conversational over-talk by Milius and Aaberg – followed by more moving and hilarious Q&A talk afterwards. New York loved it and clearly the Hollywood heavyweight did, too.

A winning film was almost impossible to choose, but in the end it was the truly deserving Mick Sowry’s Musica Surfica (about a few whacky days on King Island orchestrated by fins-free futurist Derek Hynd and musical master Richard Tognetti) that won the Best Feature Award. Best Short: Distant Shores by Matt Katsolis, and the Viewers’ Choice Award went, appropriately, to Mark Temme’s The Rocks, a look at the vibrant, hardcore and, I have to say, truly fantastic, New York surf scene. 2009? Be there, for more stoke and the city. ADR

I met Jeremy Gosch shortly after I finished working on In God’s Hands back in 1997 when I needed to get my scenes edited into a reel. He was a long time surfer and we just clicked instantly. He was working in his parents’ production company at the time and I discussed possibly doing a series of short films for TV about pivotal moments in surfing. We were both enthusiastic about doing something, but life got in the way and the project stalled.

Then in 2006 he phoned me and said he had just gone out on his own and formed his own production company and thought we should do a full feature on the winter of ’75. I agreed and immediately told him that the perfect title would be “Bustin’ down the Door”, from Rabbit’s article in Surfer magazine in 1976 that both described and lit the fire of the surfing revolution in the mid-‘70’s. A quick phone call to Rabbit to secure the rights to the title, and we were rolling down the highway.

The original plan was to shoot an interview with me and cobble together some old surfing footage into a rough trailer that I would shop around for a distribution deal. I felt sure I could get one of the surf corpos to fund the project as it would be amazing PR for whoever got involved. A buddy of mine worked at the heavyweight Hollywood agency, William Morris, and I thought it would be a quick process of a few meetings before a deal would be signed. Well after producing the trailer, three months and many meetings went by and I got hung up in a catch-22 situation. I could get surfing industry funding if I had a distribution deal, and I could a distribution deal if I had a finished product – so I was stuck.

Then my wife Carla and I lost our beautiful son and my life ended – Mathew had seen our little trailer shortly before he died and loved it. Getting going on the project six months later helped me pick up the pieces of my broken heart and heal my shattered life. By November we still had no funding and I knew we had to shoot in Hawaii that December as we could nail most of the interviews in a pretty short time period. Carla and I decided to roll the dice – we kicked in some money and paid for the shoot in Hawaii where we ended up spending around three weeks filming many of the world’s legendary surfers. Jeremy edited what we had into a 15-minute rough cut, our co-producers put together a budget, I put together a business plan and over a three-month period I went out and raised the money to fund the project, ultimately bringing Edward Norton on board. We started shooting in December 2006 and finished the film in January 2008, just in time for the Santa Barbara Film Festival where it was shown publicly for the first time in front of a sell-out crowd of 2,200 people. To watch the credits roll at the end and to hear the applause from a stoked community inside the beautiful Arlington Theater was a an overpowering emotional experience, especially since the film was dedicated to my beautiful son.

Some random thoughts on the film:
I don’t see Rabbit and MR that often but this film has really brought us together again. There was a special camaraderie between us back in the 1970s but also a competitive intensity that made us keep a little distance. In the water it was a fight to the death – in and out of competition – and while we were mates on land, that fire kept us from being best friends. Now there is a commonality between us and our present surfing experience again – we’re all stoked as we ever were and still ride cutting edge equipment, even though MR is now also in love with SUP. We don’t need to be at the best spot in the world to get stoked – just a clean wall at our local breaks is enough for us now.

We all wanted to make an impact in Hawaii – I wanted to be the best surfer at every spot on every day – we all had this same ambition and drive and that was why the surfing of that period improved so fast. Also we all gravitated to the same spot every day – there was always one break that would be best and that’s where we all ended up – I think that the most intense sessions back then were not in heats but in free surfing sessions at Pipe, Sunset, Off-the –Wall and Haleiwa.

I can understand the Hawaiian surfers getting pissed off at the Aussies and I think we all understood the culture at the time – but there is never any excuse for violence – we all knew that one had to tread lightly on the North shore, in and out of the surf. Disrespect was perceived but certainly not intended. The Aussies were intensely, nationalistically competitive and wanted to promote themselves like Muhammad Ali who at the time was the biggest athlete in sport – it was simple crude self promotion and unfortunately the Hawaiian surfers felt it was at their expense.

Being under threat on the North Shore was really scary at the time – you never knew who was going to bang you. I ran into issues in 1979 after an interview in Penthouse magazine – I was repeatedly threatened with death, told to leave the island, punched and hit with a bottle – I never knew how far it would go so I went off to Wahiawa and bought a Remington 12 gauge pump action shotgun that held ten rounds – not because I wanted to go down in a blaze of glory but simply for self preservation. Ultimately Reno came to my rescue by arranging a meeting with the boys that was also attended by all the pro surfers on the island and ultimately peace was declared.

Our equipment was pretty primitive by modern standards and it amazes me what we managed to achieve. I felt that the ultra-curvy pink spider Murphy board I used at Pipeline was light years ahead and it definitely gave me an edge on late take-offs, maneuvers on the face and backside tube riding. Also my 7’0” blue Spider was a very advanced tube machine with a single to double concave bottom, faster and more maneuverable that anything else in the tube. But it was MR on his twin who launched surfing into the age of acceleration – never in the history of our sport has one surfer and one board made such a quantum leap in instantaneous performance progression.

I don’t think surfers are having more fun today than in days past. There is a far greater variety of equipment today, and shapes are better and boards are lighter so they are far easier to ride and just go better. Despite what some say, there was never a dominance of a contest mindset in surfing – surfers always had fun no matter what they were riding – that is simple propaganda from all the retro fashionistas and Morning of the Earth wannabees. I had the same fun when I surfed in 32 contests a year as now when I compete in none. Pro surfing has been great for surfing – respectability for the sport, the rise of the industry, the rise of environmental groups, better boards, better surfing equipment, surf camps, surf forecasting – all have come from people being proud to be surfers, a solid industry and pro surfers that keep the dream alive for millions of kids – an idyllic existence surfing the best waves in the world, better than they have ever been surfed before.

I think the enduring message of the film is the importance of dreams – we wanted to change our world – to surf better than anyone else, to become famous, and to make money from our exploits, ultimately to have the luxury of being able to surf more. Everything we did then was motivated by our love for surfing and everything we do today still revolves around that same love.

By Jack Johnson (Brushfire Records)

Contemporary transcendental expression, an articulation of a particular plane of perception coalesced out of genes and experiences, native beaches and thumping shorebreak, reeling curls and tradewinds and the sound of the palms and the predicament of humanity in this time of times we keep calling Now.

Who better to spend some time with than Jack Johnson, known to most as easy listenin’. Well, don’t buy that. Read the lyrics while the music carries you out to the lineup, and … pay attention … watch for sets, he’s trying to tell us something, and something else, and something beyond that. Corduroy to the horizon. He’s trying to show us what he sees – that This is actually real. That’s the artist’s job, the poet’s task – to tell us that this is real, this that we feel.

Jack Johnson’s new album shot straight to the top of the charts in the USA, and it stayed there for weeks. Jack’s music (and Jack himself) seem to be serving as a much-needed psychic oasis in these fear-fledged days of mystery, just four years from the end of the Mayan calendar. But Mr. Johnson speaks in simple-sounding profundities, so be prepared to hear what you’re listening to, for this is surf music of another kind.

The truth is we say not as we do.

How will we really know? It’s just like it feels.

Your voice is your own, I can’t protect it
You’ll have to sing
A verse no one has ever known

Everyone involved with this CD – Sleep Through the Static – deserves our full attention, whenever we can bring it. There’s a lot of conscious prayer in here, listen.

Special Notes: Thomas Campbell took the photos and designed the cover! Recorded with 100% solar energy, recycled packaging (FSC), member 1% for the Planet, all good. Special thanks to Jack for that line: “If it’s you or me I’d rather take the fall.”

Words DK

By Donavon Frankenreiter (Lost Highway)

The nicest thing about Recycled Recipes, for me, is that it gives a window on surfer-musician Donavon’s sensibilities and influences. The six tracks on this fine CD are all bull’s-eyes for me – each one a personal favorite that’s thrilling to hear reinvented in his voice and given his spin: Bruce Cockburn’s ‘Wondering Where The Lions Are’, Wilco’s ‘Theologians’, Dr. John’s ‘Such A Night’, Creedence Clearwater Revival’s ‘Fortunate Son’, The Band’s ‘It Makes No Difference’, and Robert Zimmerman’s ‘Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright’. Nice new arrangements of each tune, made personal by a gifted artist. Modest but agreeable performances, as intimate as if they recorded in a kitchen, which they were. These selections and his interpretations tell me all I need to know about Frankenreiter’s world view – sensitive, evolutionary, and comfortably revelatory. Well done … and thanks, Donovan!

Words DK