No vocal harmonies, no doo-wah's, no parental discretion. But somehow, Fu Manchu carries on the Beach Boys' torch of feel-good-surf-power-pop rock.

By comparison to the Beach Boys, I stress that Fu Manchu's sound is nothing like that of Murray Wilson's boy band. Many critics label Fu Manchu's sound as "stoner rock," "desert rock," and "surf rock." I simply call them a bunch of West Coast surfer dudes who sing exclusively about cars, California, girls and just plain ol' feelin' fine. For a more concrete description, the best way to sum up Fu Manchu's sound is AC/DC meets Monster Magnet, minus the satanic homoeroticism.

On California Crossing, Fu Manchu once again brings its aural arsenal of two gee-tairs, one bass, a set of skins and the occasional cowbell -- its formula for a decade running. But Fu Manchu isn't out to impress you with its diversity. Its maturity in the music biz is further fortified with the confidence the members bring with each pop-format track.

Frontman Scott Hill announces Fu Manchu's entry into uncharted territory in the album's opener, "Separate Kingdom." Maybe he's referring to their personal sagas because on first listen, California Crossing doesn't take off where their other albums conclude. Hill's overextended half-singing is still veiled beneath Bob Balch's weighty riffs for each of the 11 similar-sounding songs.

But on second listen, I heard a new Fu Manchu. Normally, Balch's distortion drapes over Hill's vocals and rhythm but tinkered volume levels underline the album's highlights. While the hooks are still meaty, the excess fat is trimmed off the edges, enabling riffs to blend into Hill's vocals without loads of ubiquitous fuzz interrupting.

The entire record is straightforward and full of hooks, another reason why the songs blend into one another. When played continuously, California Crossing's monotony drove my mind away from Fu Manchu and into daydream.

An ironic example is the album's best song, the very literal "Thinkin' Out Loud." It sums up the entire feel of the album -- chillin', thinkin', wonderin' about something but not worryin' about it. The song is rather choppy in its entirety, but a lot of those chops are squinting guitar and vocal hooks. The song's crescendo is the final refrain after Balch's solo. With Hill's shrilling guitar swaying in the background, Balch busts into a hook that harmonizes with Hill's vocals.

Many songs crawl along the same mood, but the title track and "Squash That Fly" treat listeners to some much-needed musical ascension. Monotonous tracks like "Ampn'," "Mongoose," and "Downtown in Dogtown" are likely to be skipped over by lulled listeners looking for a little life in lyrics and music.

Balch and Hill dominate every song but one, the droning "The Wasteoid," where drummer Brant Bjork (formerly of Kyuss) is allowed a small solo. Everywhere else, Hill and Balch exchange blows at their respective instruments as if they're spouting off yo' mama jokes.

But what may be boring for some of us is a damn good time for members of Fu Manchu. Look at it from the their perspective -- living in SoCal, surfing, cruisin' in Camaros. Why would they want to change their surroundings? That is certainly reflected in their music, too. Depression drags down much of the rock spinning in our stereos these days. Fu Manchu's sound reminisces of a time when popular music was happy, simple and rockin'.

On the whole, California Crossing is clean and sonically diverse when compared to other Fu Manchu albums. But when compared to other four-piece rock bands, Fu Manchu lacks the musical progression 10 years experience should bestow on a band. But hell, they'll still make bitchin' tunes no matter what I say.