By Matt Chrystal (including all photos)
Picture it: New Jersey. August 2016. A beautiful and sunny summer’s day. It’s hot, but not too hot. It is, what some might call, the makings for a perfect day. Except for one thing… I’m at work… in North Jersey… oh, and another thing … I have a broken ankle.
But then it happens. I’m not sure whether it was out of the blue or if it was a preconceived notion that I tucked far away. It’s an idea, or maybe it’s a declaration, whatever it is, it hits me…
“Fuck this! I’m going to down the shore!”
I ditch work early (unless my boss is reading, then I labored diligently, promptly clocked out at the correct time and departed swiftly from the office).
I hit the Parkway. I brave Saturday shore traffic.
I coast down the exit ramp and in to Asbury Park as if pulled by a tractor beam.
There is no debate about any other choice of destination.
The Asbury Park Surf Music Festival is going down on the boardwalk And ain’t no party like a Surf Rock Party … cause a Surf Rock Party don’t stop!
What began Thursday night with the legendary Dick Dale playing the Wonder Bar, continued into the Aloha Friday Pool Party at the Berkeley Hotel is cresting into the main event festival at the Anchor’s Bend.
As luck would have it, I just happen to have a Hawaiian shirt and a pair shorts with me (ok so maybe the idea was more along the lines of a preconceived notion).
I eventually find parking on Bond Street and hobble unevenly, one foot in a boot-brace and the other in a low top Vans sneaker, for what seems like miles until I finally arrive at the mecca of beach party sights and sounds. It’s like something out of a classic surf film or travel guide to the Jersey Shore. I haven’t even arrived at APSMF yet and the beach party vibe is in full swing in the city by the sea.
The Asbury Park Promenade of Mermaids (a separate event from APSMF) is gathering on the boardwalk at the 2nd Avenue Pavilion. A large crowd has congregated around a group of belly dancers. There’s a variety of eclectic and eccentric characters in every direction. Mermaids and mermen, sailors, sirens and seamen, mythical deities, sea creatures, pirates and even a few zombies… for some reason, there are always zombies! Ladies clad in bikinis made of shells and some men clad in even less.
I arrive just in time to see friends and “local creative types,” Juicy Jenn Hampton of the Parlor Gallery and Timothy Lucas, aka Dr. Sketchy, scurry through the hordes of onlookers to secure the best viewing spot in order to judge which participants stand heads, and in this case, tails above the rest.
As I make my way further down the boardwalk toward Convention Hall, I am greeted by the twangs of the Televisionairies floating through the atmosphere. I make my way through the Bazaar of vendors which have been selected to be part of the APSMF, a collection of DIY artists and local merchants peddling their unique wares. I stop to chat with Groovy Graveyard, high-five my buds at Little Dickman Records; and I am introduced to some folks from the Asbury Park Moto Club.
I enter the Anchor’s Bend and am greeted with a big hug from festival co-organizer, Vincent Minervino. He looks as though he is mere moments away from unleashing a smile and breathing a sigh of relief as a year’s worth of planning and stress are giving way to the realization that the event is a raging good time.
The promenade is packed with partiers holding pineapple drinks and the beach is littered with bodies in pin-up style dresses and Polynesian shirts. Every other hand has a tiki cup or a drink with an umbrella in it.It’s only mid-afternoon and the good times and good vibes are rolling right along.
The Sharkskins take to the Beach Stage. Hula hoops begin spinning as the sun reflects off of the silver suits from which the band has taken their moniker. The 'Skins sound triumphant as they tear through a set that is just as lively and in-step as their attire. Towards the end of their performance, they pause from their reverb-soaked showcase to break from the instrumental assault of the day to introduce some vocals and harmonies. But they aren’t done yet, as no set would be complete without paying homage to Dick Dale, the godfather of surf rock. Horns come out. These guys are pros and the crowd is digging it.
Next up, the Taratinos from NYC start their set of spaghetti-western-infused surf jams. Their sound may be fit for a soundtrack but this is no background music. The crowd has filled in by the stage. There is nowhere to move on the promenade. The band is beaming and feeding off the energy. A woman in thigh-high boots and floral patterned dress twirls around in sync to the rhythm. A man is gyrating to the point where I am no longer sure if he is dancing or convulsing into a seizure. Good times!
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| (bonus Jeff Crespi) |
I catch up with APSMF co-organizer, Magdalena O’Connell, who I believe is now in her third outfit change of the afternoon. The changes are strategic it seems, not only keeping up with the event’s themes but also beating the heat of both the beach and the constant running around checking on each detail of the all-day festival’s happenings.
"We are really happy with the way this turned out," she says. "We will finally be able to relax after Vince plays though."
She then takes to the Beach Stage, thanks the crowd for coming and introduces her husband and event co-organizer who is now pulling double duty with his band, the Black Flamingos. Vince counts off and wails on the drum kit and the band takes off. Vince and the boys fire through a smoking set and treat the crowd to some “Tequila-tinged” tunes.
The Black Flamingos play right up to the event’s scheduled intermission or “Dinner Break” as they call it. There was still plenty of surf rock goodness to be served up that evening including the Primitive Finks, area-favorite the Nebulas and Messer Chups making their debut from St. Petersburg, Russia.
Remember what I told ya… A Surf Rock Party Don’t Stop!
But also remember that I told you, that I had a broken ankle. So it was at this time I put down my pineapple and hobbled off into the sunset.
The event was a blast.
There really Ain’t No Party Like A Surf Rock Party… especially the Asbury Park Surf Musical Festival Party. Oh… and the party continued into Sunday night as the Black Flamingos, Primitive Finks and Messer Chups headed down to Philly.
See I told you… A Surf Rock Party Don’t Stop.
For even more on the APSMF, check out my full interview with Magdalena O’Connell for DIYNJ on WeirdNJ.com.
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