Surfing is a sport, lifestyle (whatever you’d like to call it) of moments – the bread and butter of which is the singular experience of exhilaration that’s as addictive as it is pure. To stoke might refer to stoking a fire or flame, i.e. adding fuel to make the fire grow. It is very much in that sense that stoke has been adopted by the world of surfing, but in reference to an internal flame. The incredible feeling of surfing adds fuel to the fire of life, so to speak, in micro-moments. Thrill, you might call it. Excitement, maybe. Rush, most definitely. But beyond a personal feeling, the universality of stoke has been at the forefront of the progression of surfing. Once surfers began to incorporate tube riding and turning into their repertoire, board design adapted. When crowds began to choke up lineups, surfers traveled to get away, up their wave count, resulting in communities around the world picking up the habit. If surfing is an action, stoke is its lifeblood.
In this recent short by Matt Warshaw, originally posted on the Encyclopedia of Surfing’s website, the universality of stoke is obvious. It’s a mashup of temporality, flashing clips from the 1960s, followed by a shot from the 2000s, and back again – all set to the soundtrack of Ian Hunter’s “I Get So Excited”.
Matt has a very personal story attached to the song, as well, which would be a shame not to include here. In his post on the EOS website he says:
“Kelly Mahon was the funniest guy in my ninth-grade class at Mira Costa High, no contest. Loud, huge laugh, rubbery face, with a mind that pulled comedy out of any given situation like a magnet picking up metal filings. You’d just be realizing that there was maybe something humorous to be said about this guy’s folding bike, or a overly-cosmic surf movie poster, or anything having to do with the mysteries of sex, and Kelly was already blowdarting a comment, sharp and perfectly aimed, right into the heart of what was funny. He was a cutting bastard, but generous too—he laughed as hard at other people’s thrusts and japes, even though our material by and large was half as funny as his own.
Kelly was independent beyond his years. Both parents were out of the picture, and he lived with his slightly addled grandmother, which meant extra responsibility but also extra freedom. Of course surfed and skated every day, nothing unusual there, but Kelly also hitchhiked up and down the coast, alone, on weekends and holidays. First in our group to make it to Central California. First to Baja.
And first to pick up on the good bands, too. It was Kelly who turned me on to Mott the Hoople, this would have been Fall semester, 1974, and right away I put the band near the top of my newly built and very lopsided rock and roll ziggurat, behind Kiss and David Bowie, but ahead of Led Zeppelin and Elton John. Mott must have broken up around that point, because a year later I got Ian Hunter’s first solo album for Christmas. “I Get So Excited,” the scorching first track, blew the decorations off the tree, set the wreath on fire, and felt rough probing of my crap-ass stereo needle at least 25 times before we sat down for Christmas ham. The rest of the LP wasn’t much, but for a decade or so, until I hauled my four huge crates of LPs to the dump and lightened my worldly possessions by a couple hundred pounds, I would spin “Excited” for a quick pick-me-up.
Last Monday I found the song on YouTube, cued it up for my post-nap pre-coffee power walk, and before your man Ian even stepped to the mic I was storyboarding the video you see above.
Shit, just realized this thing sounds like a eulogy. Whoops! Kelly is very much alive and well, surfing, raising a kid, still got ’em doubled-up laughing. Kelly, old friend! This one is for you!”
Killer little film, Matt! We dig it.
