The Explorers Club

Critics used to give retro-minded acts like Lenny Kravitz and the Black Crowes a hard time for their slavish recreations of hippie-era rock tropes. They insisted that imitation was not the sincerest form of flattery, but rather betrayed a lack of imagination.

Signed to the indie-hipster Dead Oceans label, the members of South Carolina quintet the Explorers Club may be overdue for a similar aesthetic ass-kicking. At first blush, the same dismissive logic might apply. That’s because for much of its radiant 35 minutes, Freedom Wind sounds like a near-exact replica of a mid-1960s Beach Boys record—the “Help Me, Rhonda”/“California Girls” Beach Boys—a little while before Brian Wilson discovered the Theremin, wrote “Good Vibrations” and changed the future of pop music.

Yet get past first impressions, and the skill and commitment that this band of Red State geeks displays amply justifies their artful homage. A few spins in, the band’s own identity asserts itself, rising out of the sublime harmonies and jingle-shimmer-chime of frontman Jason Brewer’s arrangements. The gruff vocal intro and psychedelic guitar coda on “Honey, I Don’t Know Why” are, for instance, far too giddy to have made an actual Beach Boys song. And a blissed-out teen symphony like “Do You Love Me?” is as much about the pleasures of form as anything the Ramones ever did.

It’s that same aura of unabashed affection that makes Freedom Wind such indulgent fun. While so much indie-pop sacrifices quality for novelty, this music is a reminder that some ideals still hold true.