‘What is Ski Music?’ Part 1: The 8-Track Years

The Parking Lot (Shred White and Blue)—So there’s this ongoing conversation about what the heck ski music is anyway. Does it even exist? Is someone actively creating it somewhere? Or is it just whatever’s on the car stereo when you’re driving to the hill?

It seems as if there’s always been surf music, with its sunny guitar and that drum roll like a crashing wave. And skateboard thrash with its repetitive angst of insistent bass and strangled chords. And always the multi-sport friendly anthemic rock of Springsteen/Queen/Zeppelin and even Jersey pulp like Bon Jovi or whatever kind of hair metal you still get a secret charge from listening to.

But I couldn’t really tell you what defines ski music – now, or ever. Which is what got me searching my own CD (‘album’) collection, across the Internet and on the ever-indispensable YouTube, where it finally occurred to me, that like music technology (the aural delivery service, if you will), since 1970, what may or may not be considered ski music has undergone four distinctly different eras – encompassing 8-Track, cassette (oh lord, it’s the mixed tape), CD and i-Pod.

And you know what? There are a lot of great arguments for what American ski music just may be about. Here’s a little sample of the early years.

The 8-Track Years

Take it to the Limit: The Eagles
‘Cosmic American Music’s’ greatest progenitors, and the all-time gods of American album rock (because ABBA still kicks their asses in Europe), The Eagles were that perfect pairing of country plaid and blue-eyed soul. And out of all their hits, this was the one that let every skier feel as if every heartache could be burned out by a heavier foot on the accelerator – “You know I’ve always been a dreamer.”

Rock, Stein and the Bird
I don’t know Mark Johnson and have only once got to shake the hand of the great Stein Eriksen (who my father still claims as the greatest race and powder and bird-hunting – wink, wink – skier ever), but this film Mark made of Stein and buddies powder skiing in Alta is video proof of the truth that ‘the powder was always deeper in the early years.’ Powder on, ski gods!
January 5th, 1974, Mark, Stein and the Bird:

Hot Dog and the Return of Mitch Ryder
I will never be able to explain how Mitch Ryder of ‘Mony Mony’ and ‘Devil Blue Dress’ fame suddenly singing a Prince written song in a ski movie happened, but this one hits me every time. The video montage of Squaw Valley steeps and easy descending rhythm of this Hot Dog classic is what I still sing to myself on those bluebird days when I want to match a little mojo to my turn (especially as I wonder which local ski-skiing double is under all those hats and sunglasses ripping those local lines): Hot Dog/Mitch Ryder

Next, Ski Music: Cassettes and The Mixed Tape Years

//photo by Colin O’Brien

Rider Down: The Electric Surf of Bob Bogle

LOS ANGELES (Shred White and Blue) — No sport other than surfing has its very own music – not skating, snowboarding or even skiing unless you count reggae, and can somehow make an inseparable match for mystic Jamaican rhythms and snow-covered mountains in your mind.

But surfing? Man, that certain clean twang of guitar and snare snap of drums can conjure up the blue waves and bright sunshine every time.

Guitarist Bob Bogle helped create that sound. Bogle, who died on June 14, at the age of 75, was a founding member of the Ventures, whose tightly paced instrumental masterpieces such as “Walk, Don’t Run,” “Hawaii Five-O,” and even their cover of the Surfaris legendary “Wipeout,” set the template for surf music in the 1960s.

John Fogerty (of Creedence Clearwater Revival) called them “the most popular instrumental rock and roll band of all time,” just last year when the band was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

As for Fogerty’s own two degrees of surf separation? That’s CCR’s Susie Q that the two Playboy bunnies are dancing to in Apocalypse Now, shortly after “Lance” and Robert Duvall grab a quick session amidst the smell of napalm.

Here are two quick YouTube clips of Bogle’s immense contribution to the stoke. Every time the needle hits the wax, he makes you feel paddling.

Thanks, man.

Walk Don’t Run

Wipeout