New Zealand Garage Rockers at Forefront of Melodic Noise-Indie

Emerging from the chaotic foam of an audio tidal wave, New Zealand’s Surf City has taken a hand at crafting low-fi pop goodies with an unwavering garage band charm. Not a misleading name for the ambitious foursome; the music on Surf City EP, the group’s first offering following a name change, draws heavy surf-rock guitar influence and melds it with an indie-pop elegance that is hauntingly catchy.

Heavy octaves, slovenly drum work, fuzzy indie guitar chords, solo bass riffs and echoing, ethereal vocals contribute to a work of such distinct retro resonance that Pixies fans will rejoice, Strokes fans will give thanks, and Killers fans won’t actually have to buy Day & Age. Surf City adorns its work with a high-pitched reverberation that seems to embellish every instrument on the album into a nostalgic plotline. Thrown together in unison, the sounds create a unique, sloppy storyline that stays consistent and authoritatively defines Surf City’s style.

“Headin’ Inside” opens Surf City EP up nicely with a fast-picked, twangy guitar pattern redolent of “Wipeout” in texture. Layered, off-key, anthemic vocals propel the short tune into “Records of a Flagpole Skater,” a synth-laden, slower-paced dance-track with plenty of walking guitar riffs. “Canned Food” borrows heavy influence from new wave similar to Joy Division, rousing a darkly entertaining affinity for the retro side of garage rock. The EP ends on an upbeat note, flaunting “Free the City” as the most emotional, sincere song in the collection.

Although Surf City is unrelenting in defining its sound on this self-titled EP, the album falls flat at diversifying itself (with the exception of “Canned Food,” which almost sticks out like a sore thumb). But let’s cut Surf City a break; after all, the group only had six tracks to work with and really needs only to ride the wave their debut EP has created into a full-length to rouse music-lovers to the shoreline.

Mark Sherbin