When this request came in, I did wonder how much of a story there was to it. Most instrumentals tend to not have too much of a story, but what sets this week’s choice apart from the majority is its distinctive intro – the fake laugh, but it’s one that makes the song instantly memorable. Who did that laugh and does the tune have any more of a story to it? Let’s find out.
Many bands begin in high school and either fizzle out or they grow up and follow a different career path, The Surfaris, however, began young, made a few records and lived their lives on the back of their biggest hit. They were formed in Glendora, California in 1962 and comprised singer (on other songs) and drummer Ron Wilson, lead guitarist Jim Fuller, rhythm guitarist Bob Berryhill, bass player Pat Connolly and sax player Jim Pash. Wilson wasn’t old enough to drive and Pash was just 12 years old. They derived their name from an amalgam of surfing and safari and before long, with the help of their parents driving them around, they played at teen dances and local talent shows, and by January 1963, Wilson had written their first song, Surfer Joe. They found a small studio owned by a man called Dale Smallin and they arranged to go and record the track at the cost of $100. They didn’t have anything to put on the B-side, but they did have a little bit of studio time left and needed to come up with something for the flip.
Fuller had a melody he had written a few weeks earlier, the band started improvising and Wilson had come up with a driving drum solo which stood out. In a similar fashion to the The Lone Ranger which I wrote about three months ago, they needed an introduction to grab the listeners attention, in a fascinating interview with Bob Berryhill, he explained, “the studio manager said, we can put Surfer Joe on both sides of the 45 or you can write another song. So, we look at each other and Ron started drumming. I said, ‘great’ but we better put some guitar and bass on that or it’s going to be a drum solo. I chose the key of D and only to be different because every song we’d played before that was in A or E and I said, ‘let’s do something different’. I started playing a few chords and then Jim (the bass player) played a few chords because he was an excellent mimic as he could pick anybody’s melody up and play it almost instantly. We’d played it through three or four times and we had a really smooth recording and then the studio guy, on the talk back button, said, ‘ok guys, what are you gonna call it?’ Well, Fuller had been to Tijuana which was just over the border the week before and pulled out a switchblade, walked up to the mic, pressed the button, ‘click’ and said ‘switchblade’. Now, any sound engineer will go, ‘that click is terrible’. So, my dad went out into the alleyway at the back and comes back with a piece of ply and then the bass player picked it up and breaks it up near the microphone and someone else said, ‘that sounds like a busting surfboard’. I said, there’s already a song called Busting Surfboard so we can’t use that. Then I asked, what would cause it to break at which point Dale Smallin came out from the control room, walked up to the mac, let out this loud laugh and said, ‘wipe out’. We looked at each other said agreed, we have a 45.” Smallin then became the band’s manager.
In an interview with Vintage Guitar magazine, Pash explained, “The format of Wipe Out was inspired by Preston Epps’ Bongo Rock, which Berryhill had suggested.” Previously, Wilson had been the head drummer in the Charter High School Marching Band and, according to Pash, “The Wipe Out solo is actually a drum cadence they’d use to march the band onto the football field at halftime.”
A few years later, Wilson would set the world record for continuous drum soloing at 104½ hours, a record that stood until July 2023 when Allister Brown from Lisburn, County Antrim broke the record at 150 minutes and one second.
They signed a deal with Dot records who were very good at promoting their product and in February 1963 they released Wipe Out and within a couple of weeks it was number one locally in Los Angeles. On the back of that, airplay picked up around the whole country and the song went to number two on the Billboard Hot 100 behind Stevie Wonder’s Fingertips (part 2) and peaked at number five in the UK.
In an interview with the San Diego Tribune, Berryhill, who still plays the song live, said, “I’ve heard every Wipe Out story in the book, from the Notre Dame marching band performing it to soldiers in Vietnam who played the song while dive bombing. Guitar and drum teachers have told him that they’ve assigned Wipe Out to their students. It’s the rudiments, like Chuck Berry. It provides a foundation for every guitar player and drummer.
Around the same time, Smallin said, “I was kind of elected manager, although at the time I really knew nothing about managing a band. It wasn’t long before the Surfaris wanted to record a 45 rpm single to sell at gigs. I introduced the band to sound engineer Paul Buff, owner of Pal Recording Studio. “A lot of people liked to record out there, plus he was a super engineer,” he says. Buff’s studio was formerly owned by Frank Zappa, so the spot had a reputation, and the band agreed. Additionally, Frank Zappa used the facility for not only sound recording, but also to make dirty movies,” Smallin added.
The song got a second least of life when a New York hip hop trio called the Fat Boys teamed up with the Beach Boys for a cover which was very different apart from the imitated witch cackle at the beginning and the Beach Boys adding great harmony vocals. Once again it was a hit, number 12 Stateside and number two in the UK. One year later, the Fat Boys teamed with Chubby Checker for a new version of The Twist under the title The Twist (Yo, Twist).
Wilson died of a brain aneurysm in 1989, Pash died of heart failure in 2005 aged just 56 and Fuller died in March 2017. Berryhill is the only one still alive and represented the band when they were inducted into the Musicians Hall of Fame in 2019.