Surf Curse is an American indie rock band from Reno, Nevada. It was formed in 2013 by members Nick Rattigan and Jacob Rubeck. The duo initially started making music together as a way to cope with the boredom and isolation of living in a small town. Nick Rattigan is the lead vocalist and drummer of Surf Curse. He is known for his melancholic and introspective lyrics. Rattigan's drumming style is characterized by its simplicity and precision.

Surf Curse

A gritty and melodic Nevada-bred guitar-and-drum duo who later became a fixture of Los Angeles' D.I.Y. garage and punk scenes, Surf Curse aligned themselves with the artist-run Danger Collective label where they released albums like 2017's Nothing Yet and 2019's Heaven Surrounds You. The sudden viral success of "Freaks," a song they'd released years earlier, earned them a deal with Atlantic, which issued the band's fourth album, Magic Hour, in 2022.

The project of drummer and singer Nick Rattigan and guitarist Jacob Rubeck, Surf Curse formed in Reno in 2013, issuing their first album, Buds, later that June. An EP, Sad Boys, appeared in October, after which the band relocated to L.A., where they began to establish themselves in the city's vibrant underground scene. By 2017, they'd reemerged as part of the Danger Collective and released their second album, Nothing Yet. An update on the simplistic style of their debut, Surf Curse's sound began to soften somewhat as they explored new tones and slightly more complex song structures. This trend carried over to their third LP, 2019's Heaven Surrounds You, which was inspired by Rattigan and Rubeck's favorite cult movies.

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An initiation into the good-natured cult of Surf Curse

To attend a Surf Curse show is to accept that you’ll likely be trampled by a teen. That you’ll be damp with sweat that isn’t just your own. That you’ll wake with bruises in awkward places. Their sets are really akin to a collective fever dream. Screaming the lyrics back at the band is only so fulfilling—the emotion the music inspires builds upon every listen, and by the time fans get to the live show, no matter how many others they’ve already been to, that intemperate mass of pent-up energy has to be physically exerted.

The cult of Surf Curse only semi-recently exploded to uncontained proportions, by way of the algorithm, but it’s been steadily growing for more than a decade. It’s a strange cult, its leaders more implicit than intentional in crafting the power they wield. Founding members Nick Rattigan and Jacob Rubeck are living, breathing gods to their admirers, who trail them show to show, over years that sometimes see albums and sometimes don’t, across different eras of music platforms, leaving notes of (often all-caps) devotion along the path. (“Would sell my kidneys to be with Nick Rattigan”; “this music saved my life countless times”; “I WILL TELL MY KIDS ABOUT YOU IF I HAVE KIDS”; and “Jacob I know youre reading this: I’m proud of you.”)

But Rattigan and Rubeck aren’t your classic cult leaders. Their meteoric rise hasn’t deterred them from looking for ways to make their relationships more heterarchical, to deconstruct the idolatry around their creative capacity. This mission has taken form in a number of ways: most obviously in a film series curated by the two at Brain Dead Studios in LA, and a slew of club gigs to offset the intimacy lost on stadium tours. There’s a video from an earlier era of Surf Curse that seems emblematic of it all: Rattigan plays cult leader, and Rubeck, an inductee. On the surface, it’s about a boy being drawn into something sinister, but a proper listen shifts the point of perspective. The cult leader is suffering a kind of heartache, a confusion in regard to his own purpose. The 2016 video is sort of divinatory: Surf Curse has its own horde of devotees—a group desperate to return the vulnerability that Rattigan and Rubeck offer in their music—leaving the band to contend with the responsibility that comes with cultural ascent.

As with any cult, it’s only natural to be suspicious of their spirit—to look for pretense or phoniness within the wholesome sentiments they preach. It’s easy to think that it must be a front, that no artist who’s achieved success in commercial form can be immune to the corruption it breeds. They say things like, “When we have an opportunity, we try to [bring] the people that we love along”; “you can hear each of us in the music—it captures our friendship”; and, “I want to hit people in the heart.” But Surf Curse really do embody a heightened standard, one which we don’t even hold our closest friends to. They’re apologizing that I may have been sunburned, even though they are sitting under the same sun; they’re offering me water—sparkling or still, and it’s sure to be cold; they’re giving their thanks for a conversation, even though it’s redundant of one they’ve had more than 10 times over; they’re actively listening, with squinty, attentive eye-contact. They’re making good music, and fighting to make sure it’s worth listening to—that the quality of sound is matched in emotional resonance. Surf Curse is deserving of the fervor and faith they inspire—sonically and conceptually, personally and professionally.

The steady, reasonable rate of their incline is maybe the reason they’ve maintained a sense of being grounded, of superseding ego, of being nice even when they don’t have to be. A TikTok-fueled boom of their song “Freaks” (which was already considered a classic, so to speak, among those who have long followed them) earned the band a mass of newfound interest, including that of big-name labels. And thus, the first iteration of their band in true, four-member form.

Document: Did the label demand a boy band?
Henry Dillon: We’re so unbelievably attractive, they had to have us.
Document: Was there a Will you go steady with us? ask, or any sort of indoctrination?
Jacob Rubeck: We have rituals, but we will never say what they are…

Henry Dillon and Noah Kohll are the first to be added to the ranks as full-fledged members of Surf Curse, which has cycled through a series of touring bandmates without registering them in an official capacity, or letting them infiltrate the writing process. Dillon and Kohll were onboarded after the band signed to Atlantic, more than 10 years after its formation. Rubeck and Rattigan established Surf Curse in Reno after being locked out of 21+ shows in Las Vegas; and so, Dillon and Kohll folded into the project naturally, similarly bred from small-town DIY scenes (in Oklahoma City and Omaha, respectively). The band is intent on maintaining their homespun sensibilities, even as they find themselves in nicer studios and on bigger stages. Their DIY roots aren’t tied to shitty equipment or unpopulated gigs—or even a particular place. “It doesn’t feel like scenes are so geographic in that way anymore,” Rattigan muses. “But maybe that’s just because we’re in our 30s and don’t know what’s going on.”

Surf Curse’s fan base feels distinctly youthful, which the band attributes to the intensity of emotion that lives in their lyrics. Their listeners read so young, in fact, that YouTube comments from those of a legal drinking age need to let it be known that the music isn’t just for teens. Some, informatively so: “I am well over 21 & I enjoy this band.” Others, with a sense of (probably drunken, sloppily-typed) yearning: “which you guys existed around +30 years ago during my teen years, so fucking weirdness, loneliness… losing people…. betrayal by others… especially love, and anger…” It’s proffered to the point of memedom: “i’m 69 and i’ve been listening to you since i was a zygote.”

“It doesn’t feel like scenes are so geographic in that way anymore—but maybe that’s just because we’re in our 30s and don’t know what’s going on.”

Surf Curse’s latest album, MAGIC HOUR, might be the first point of dissolution for that reputation. Touring with Greta van Fleet, they explain, makes perfect sense for just this purpose: “They sound like Led Zeppelin,” Rubeck says, a quality that MAGIC HOUR also contains. “Who loves Led Zeppelin? Dads. Moms. We want them, too. You Google us, you get ‘DIY rock,’ ‘surf rock,’ all these buzzwords leading you in different directions. This is the corruption of iHeartRadio.” It’s like, he continues, when Sonic Youth opened for Neil Young: The purpose is that, maybe, some people are going to be upset by it. Which is all good fun, but really just noise to cut through. “We’re hitting a bunch of people, and if we can get just one person down a BandCamp rabbit hole,” Rubeck insists, “we did our jobs.” It’s a sentiment that is superficially corny, but it’s clear that they mean it—that it’s actually a point of purpose and not just PR bullshit they’ve been trained to spew.

They say don’t meet your heroes, but maybe we just need nicer heroes. Surf Curse proves it’s plausible.

Photo Assistant Tessa Dillman.

Surf curse members

Surf Curse shines, shreds at The Warfield

ATLANTIC RECORDS | COURTESY

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NOVEMBER 22, 2022

For Surf Curse, there is no hierarchy of sound. Founding members Nick Rattigan and Jacob Rubeck may be the most familiar faces, but when all four members line the front of the stage, their energy rushes forth in a collective wave.

Since Surf Curse first formed in 2013, the band’s punk-infused surf rock has evolved into something more “milky” and mature. With the addition of bassist Henry Dillon and guitarist Noah Kholl, Surf Curse’s music has more fully filled out while retaining the abrasive texture of its previous projects.

On the night of Oct. 16, Surf Curse made a splash at The Warfield with songs both new and old. As tracks from its latest album Magic Hour, released Oct. 7, flowed into bonafide hits such as “Freaks” and “Disco,” Rattigan and Rubeck proved they’re still the beloved band of the 2010s — the surf only gets stronger with time.

The four musicians entered to playful, funky music before stationing themselves at the mic stands lining the front of the stage, Rattigan taking a seat at his central drum kit. As they harmonized “Hello” and “Hey,” watery lights projected against the backdrop, rippling over a monochrome skeleton paddling through the clouds. Then, like the shorebreak crashing against the sand, they sent their impetuous sound barrelling through The Warfield.

Though most bands place the drum set in the back, Rattigan’s position front and center called attention to the Surf Curse’s raw percussive energy. As he sang “All is Lost,” he looked wistfully toward the ceiling before thrashing back down on the drums. Each movement emotive and uninhibited, his energy spilled copiously out into the crowd.

Wading through steady basslines, Magic Hour standout “Self Portrait” eventually crested with coarse screams and gritty guitar riffs. Though the tune mellowed during the bridge, Rattigan’s vocal and rhythmic delivery pulsed with unabated verve, placing unexpected accents on the track.

Occasionally, Rubeck would make his way closer to Rattigan’s drum set, the two showing off their close-as-ever fraternal bond. Meanwhile, Kholl and Dillon’s performances remained much more understated; they kept their heads down and even turned their backs to the audience as they casually rocked along to the beat.

Though songs crashed one after the other with few lulls in-between, the band members still found time for witty banter between themselves and with the audience. “This is about the time in the show where my shoe comes off,” Nick said after an upbeat performance of “In My Head Till I’m Dead.” “I know I could re-tie it, but it just keeps coming off.”

From there, the band dove straight into “Heathers,” sung from the perspective of Winona Ryder’s character Veronica Sawyer in the 1989 film of the same name. While the 2013 track bleeds pure indie rock, Surf Curse elongated the bridge into a dreamy, instrumental interlude. As the audience awaited the angsty set of “ohs,” it couldn’t help but surrender to the purple-tinted flash rip.

Per the band’s name, a flurry of crowd surfers comes as no surprise. However, Surf Curse encouraged audience members to “be mindful,” and it frequently checked up on how everyone was doing. After “TVI,” stage hands came to the front of the stage to throw water bottles out to the never-tired members of the mosh pit.

Surf Curse’s sound remains ever-fresh, but the band is still mindful of its predecessors. Before playing “Lost Honor,” Rubeck and Kholl joked that Jerry Garcia — who frequented The Warfield before his death — hovered in the mist above them. “We love the Grateful Dead,” they remarked as they dedicated the song to its late frontman.

Between a stagehand diving into the crowd during “Freaks” and Rattigan leaving his drum set to dance in front of the crowd during “Disco,” Surf Curse closed the night with an air of pure play. Whether it’s 2013 or 2022, a two-piece set or a full band, Surf Curse shreds harder than ever — its sound echoing through audiences’ heads till they’re dead.

Contact Lauren Harvey at [email protected]

Rattigan's drumming style is characterized by its simplicity and precision. He often uses the drums as a way to convey mood and atmosphere in the band's songs. Jacob Rubeck is the guitarist and bassist of Surf Curse.

He is known for his catchy and melodic guitar riffs. Rubeck's playing style is influenced by various genres, including punk, rock, and surf music. His guitar work is often complemented by layers of reverb and distortion, creating a wall of sound effect. Together, Rattigan and Rubeck create a unique and captivating sonic landscape. Their music is often described as lo-fi indie rock, with influences from surf rock, punk, and post-punk. Surf Curse's sound is characterized by its catchy melodies, dreamy guitar tones, and introspective lyrics. Surf Curse has released several albums and EPs, including "Heaven Surrounds You" (2019) and "Sad Boys" (2016). Their music has gained a dedicated following, particularly among indie rock fans. The band has also toured extensively, playing shows in various cities across the United States. In addition to their musical endeavors, Rattigan and Rubeck are also involved in other creative pursuits. Rattigan is a multi-disciplinary artist, working in various mediums such as film, photography, and poetry. He has directed and produced several music videos for Surf Curse. Overall, Surf Curse members Nick Rattigan and Jacob Rubeck are talented musicians who have created a unique and captivating sound. Their music is characterized by its catchy melodies, dreamy guitar tones, and introspective lyrics. Surf Curse continues to gain popularity and recognition in the indie rock scene..

Reviews for "Surf Curse Members' Creative Process: Writing and Recording Music"

1. Mary - 2/5

I recently attended a concert by Surf Curse members and I have to say I was not impressed. The band lacked energy and seemed like they were just going through the motions. Their performance felt lackluster and derivative, with no originality or unique flair. The lead singer's vocals were weak and off-key, and the music itself was forgettable. Overall, it was a disappointing experience and I would not recommend seeing this band live.

2. John - 1/5

I had high expectations for Surf Curse members, but they completely let me down. The band seemed disinterested and bored throughout their performance. Their songs all blended together and lacked any sort of memorable hooks or melodies. The stage presence was nonexistent, with the members looking like they'd rather be anywhere else. It was a waste of time and money, and I left the concert feeling extremely disappointed.

3. Sarah - 2/5

Surf Curse members did not live up to the hype. Their music felt uninspired and lacked any real depth. I couldn't connect with any of their songs, as they all sounded generic and formulaic. The band seemed to be going through the motions, without any passion or enthusiasm in their performance. It was a forgettable experience, and I would not recommend their music to anyone looking for something that stands out from the crowd.

4. Mark - 2/5

I was excited to see Surf Curse members live, but they failed to deliver. Their performance felt monotonous and unengaging. The lead singer's vocals were underwhelming and didn't have the power or emotion that I expected. The music itself was bland and lacked any standout moments. It was a disappointment overall, and I left the concert feeling let down by the band's lackluster performance.

The Influence of Surf Curse Members on the Surf Rock Revival