The Beach Boys According to George Starotsin

[TMinthePM]

Having said all that, I'd just like to add that being of sound body and mind, and having to endure the misfortune of not residing in either Colorado or Washington, and not being other wised profitably engaged this glorious afternoon, I shall have another Brandy.

And, if I but could, by the twist of some magical transistorized dial, transport you all to this very place and time, I would, without hesitation announce to all within shouting distance:

                                              "GENTLEMEN!!!  THE DRINKS ARE ON THE HOUSE!!!


Now, shall we press on?

[TMinthePM]

SUNFLOWER

Year Of Release: 1970
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11

Nice to see somebody bothered to inject a bit of surfin' beauty in the Seventies, too...
 Best song: COOL COOL WATER

Track listing: 1) Slip On Through; 2) This Whole World; 3) Add Some Music To Your Day; 4) Got To Know The Woman; 5) Deirdre; 6) It's About Time; 7) Tears In The Morning; All I Wanna Do; 9) Forever; 10) Our Sweet Love; 11) At My Window; 12) Cool Cool Water.

Just as the never-finished Smile project served as a treasure chest for much of the Beach Boys' late Sixties records, their early Seventies' records mostly drew their share of solid tunes from the never-finished Landlocked project... wait: Landlocked was a finished project, but Warner Brothers simply refused to release it due to whatever reasons drove them to consider it uncommercial. In any case, there'd been enough material on there to serve as inspiration for two or three of the next albums, which resulted in their being as rag-taggy as possible. There's definitely been no good luck for these guys since 1966.

This and the following album are sort of a "cult favorite" duo for the Beach Boys - virtually ignored in the early Seventies and for a long time completely out of print, Sunflower and Surf's Up have slowly achieved mammoth fame among Beach Boys diehards. In this respect, I think it's fair to give out a "pre-warning" to those who expect some huge cosmic revelation from this album, lulled by all the hype: don't. Everything the Beach Boys did in the early Seventies is just as lightweight as you'd expect from them in, say, 1964; no true innovation or progression whatsoever lies within that period of work. The good news, then, the best news even, that separate this period of 'forgotten beauty' from the Beach Boys final "trip of mediocrity" initiated by 15 Big Ones, is that these early Seventies' records do not sound like pathetic nostalgic cash-ins. Not innovating in a pure sense, the Wilsons and their hang-abouts are still trying to find new sounds and arrange their harmonies in ways they didn't before - in other words, they're still creative and convincing, while later albums like M.I.U., while being perfectly listenable, mainly just rehash past glories and are generally orientated towards aging surf-rock fans desperate for more stuff from their formerly favourite band.

It doesn't mean that I'm perfectly happy with Sunflower. As far as Seventies' albums go, this is perhaps the most 'band-like' effort from the boys: both Brian and Dennis Wilson, Mike Love, Al Jardine and Bruce Johnston actively contribute to songwriting, and as a result, you get a mixed bag where stupid stinkers walk hand in hand with gorgeous masterpieces. Well, not exactly, I suppose, because speaking frankly, I don't see any really stupid stinkers on here. Only one or two, maybe, like Love's 'Add Some Music To Your Day' which is a piece of crumply nostalgic radio fodder that should really have belonged to M.I.U., I suppose (and to think that the song title was initially thought of as an alternate title to the Landlocked project!). It's not that the song is exactly bad - it's even catchy, but it represents the stagnated formula of 1963 so exactly that it ain't even fun. Out of Bruce Johnston's two contributions, I fidget nervously at the sounds of 'Tears In The Morning', with that corny French accordeon in the background and drastically overexaggerated sappy vocals - and again, I suppose the song hearkens back to the 'pre-rock' epoch where Mr Johnston was picking most of his inspiration from. 'Deirdre' is a tad better, though, with its folkish punch and McCartneyesque vocal hooks.
Another potential stinker on here is often considered the Jardine/Wilson collaboration 'At My Window', with its childish tale of a little brown sparrow and ad-libbed Spanish lyrics; but arguably it's just an innocent hoot and can't be deemed offensive. It doesn't bite.

The big star of the album is undoubtedly Dennis, finally stepping in as a fully fledged songwriter and a serious competitor to Brian; his approach is somewhat more gruff, though, so if your ideal of a Beach Boys album is something really really sweet and heavenly, just skip the tracks of Dennis. Then again, how much sweetness can one really take in? And that's where cute little pop-rockers like 'Slip On Through' come on and save the day - immaculate songs like that add an energetic punch to the album (although I could definitely live without the annoying "bleep" - "bleep" - "bleep" synthesizer running through the song, because the only thing it does is derail the tune and make the unsuspecting listener want to check if the CD is in order). 'Got To Know The Woman' is strangely bluesy for a Beach Boys song, sounding more like the Animals in spots, but you gotta love those speedy bass runs. 'Forever' is one of the best ballads on the album, showing Dennis could actually give his fatter brother some competition - uplifting and beautiful. And 'It's About Time' sounds nothing like 'classic' Beach Boys either, a disturbing rocker with a trippy mid-section... you know what? It sounds more like Crosby, Stills & Nash than the Beach Boys! Yeah, that's it, I suppose Mr Crosby could easily have penned something like that, a hippiesque disturbing rocker with hippiesque lyrics, except that Mr Crosby would have probably thrown out the good melodies and good hooks: now we know how Mr Crosby pens his songs, don't we?

And do you realize now how much of a mixed bag this album is if this stern little Crosby-like rocker is replaced by the Frankie Avalon-like 'Tears In The Morning' just as it fades out? Now that's some kind of diversity for you.

Brian is still king, though. 'This Whole World' is gorgeous, fully in the "patented B. W. fast ballad" tradition; 'Our Sweet Love' has a Pet Sounds vibe about it; but the most impressive tune, of course, is the nearly-accappella 'Cool Cool Water', a five-minute suite that closes the album. There might be many discussions on what actually is the best place to demonstrate the Beach Boys' complete mastery of vocal harmony principles, but 'Cool Cool Water' should certainly be a Top 5 contender. And if it's supposed to carry an ecological message ('in an ocean or in a glass, cool water is such a gas!') or a parody on commercials ('when I'm just too hot to move, cool water is such a groove!'), I'm all for it. It's a bit sad to realize that the song was an old 1968 outtake, but after all, better to use your old brilliant outtakes than to write new crappy songs. Who cares about the time?

All in all, just sort out the few stinkin' filler tracks which are the most generic or the most cringe-inducingly sappy, and the final product, while short, will certainly make your day. And a fine, flowery, sunny day it will be, too.

READER COMMENTS SECTION



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SURF'S UP

Year Of Release: 1971
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11

Gentler and sappier than its predecessor, but of equally uneven quality.
 Best song: SURF'S UP

Track listing: 1) Don't Go Near The Water; 2) Long Promised Road; 3) Take A Load Off Your Feet, Pete; 4) Disney Girls (1957); 5) Student Demonstration Time; 6) Feel Flows; 7) Lookin' At Tomorrow (A Welfare Song); A Day In The Life Of A Tree; 9) 'Til I Die; 10) Surf's Up.

Democracy sucks. Plain and simple. Just because some guys who can't consistently write a bunch of great tunes are the "important members" of a band doesn't mean you have to accept everything they've written and put it on your next album. In a perfect world, Surf's Up would never have included a song like 'Student Demonstration Time'. For some reason, Mike Love thought of injecting a heavy rock fluid into the Beach Boys' ocean of sentimentality and baroqueness, but of course, Mike Love (nor any other Beach Boy, for that matter) couldn't write a decent heavy rock song to save his life, so all he could do was take Leiber & Stoller's 'Riot In Cell Block #9', strip it of its lyrics and invent a new set that Mike thought was more actual at the time. Now I'm always for diversity, but let's not get carried away, right? A lone piece of metallized slow boogie among a sea of ballads and lightweight pop songs simply sticks out as a sore thumb, and ridiculous "politically conscious" lyrics don't really help matters.

Thankfully, it's the only true gaffe on an album otherwise filled up with tasty goodies. True, Surf's Up is maybe even more of a mess than its predecessor, especially since Dennis Wilson turns out to be on a creative slump and for obscure reasons - drug-induced ones, mayhaps? - doesn't have even a single contribution on here. He is "substituted" as "brother No. 2" by Carl, while Al Jardine, Mike Love and Bruce Johnston all demand their piece of pie as well. Brian's contributions, not necessarily the best on here but more likely so than not, only appear towards the very end of this short album, as if he intentionally wanted all of his stuff to be separated from his colleagues.

It is arguably this fact that explains the fans' tender treatment of Surf's Up: come on now, three Brian Wilson compositions in a row! And what thought-provoking compositions! 'A Day In The Life Of A Tree', co-written with Jack Rieley (and sung by Jack Rieley as well) is a slow majestic organ-based saga of... well, of one day in the life of a tree. (Is the title supposed to bear a hint at the Beatles' song that nearly cost Brian his sanity, I wonder?). 'Til I Die' is a... well, it's a slow majestic organ-based saga as well, only this time it sports the classic Beach Boys harmonies and a steady little rhythm that allows you to tap your foot as you inhale all those weird vibrations. Gloomy it may be, and yet... and yet it's so much in the Pet Sounds vibe that this is a bright kind of gloominess. And then, of course, there's the title track, which is one of B. Wilson's most elaborate baroque compositions since 1966, which is not a particular compliment because it was actually written in 1967. Yup, another Smile outtake, with enigmatic lyrics from Van Dyke Parks. It's a complex, intriguing three-part suite, with the last part actually taken from a different song called 'Child Is The Father Of The Man'. I won't say that the song arises to the heights of Brian's most spiritual earlier compositions, because it's just a bit too weird and complex for weirdness' and complexity's sake, but I'd be the last person to accuse Brian of "excessive blah-blah", and it's one of those tunes that grows on you slowly, puzzling and baffling you and wiggling its way under your skin.

That said, good as these three songs are - and they're very good, but don't raise me up to the ceiling - the three of them alone wouldn't have been able to save the record from the low rating rungs if everything else had just been one great dud. Fortunately, that is not the case. Two of Al Jardine's contributions are beyond lightweight - and I actually rate 'Don't Go Near The Water' as second worst song on here, with a nursery rhyme melody and primitive, trashy ecological lyrics - but 'Take A Load Off Your Feet' is kinda cute anyway, and his third song, 'Lookin' At Tomorrow (A Welfare Song)', with its mystical phased guitars and oddly treated vocal harmonies, works just fine. Even Johnston redeems himself for 'Tears In The Morning' with 'Disney Girls (1957)', a nostalgic sentimental ode that's probably corny as usual, but at least this time Bruce bothered to bother himself with writing a solid vocal melody, with plenty of small neat twists and mini-climaxes (don't you just love it when he goes... 'fantasy world and Dis-a-ney girls... I'm coming back...'?).

And finally, Carl's two songs take some time to appreciate, but in the end they do establish him as a worthy, if temporary, replacement for Dennis. 'Long Promised Road', in particular, which was even released as a single, is an uprising and deeply emotional tune that could have easily been written by Brian - I guess Brian would have added a few extra key changes to the vocal melodies, but then again, maybe not. And 'Feel Flows' is a near-pompous epic with gorgeous multi-tracked vocals and a strangely moving distorted guitar solo. Oh, and a lot of compelling flutework, too. You might be bothered by the lyrics - in both songs, they focus on quirky mystical themes - but the best solution is not to pay too much attention to the lyrics.

In all, the album's main flaw probably lies in its shortness. Ten songs that don't go over half an hour - how good is that? This ain't 1963, by Jesus! Plus, at least one or two of them fall under the "pap" category. How good is that? And lastly, what the heck is the matter with that album cover? Definitely the strangest album cover for a Beach Boys record so far. Now imagine this: you're in 1971, you come into a store and you see this guy on a horse in grey and green overtones. 'Hey', you wonder to yourself, 'is this really the new Beach Boys album? Either they went progressive or there's been some kinda mistake. Now where's that Alice Cooper section...'. Which explains why this record flopped, pure and simple. Nah. Of course I'm pulling your leg. This record flopped because the Beach Boys had gone out of fashion a long time ago. Just like guys on horses.

[Don Malcolm]

Thanks for all your cheeky perseverance, TM. But please understand that George:

a) is not really all that far off the general historical consensus about the BBs that has built up in rock-critic land over the past 30 years;
b) is just a little too often guilty of the "look at me" style of journalism that hardens hearts (if not entire circulatory systems) when one is exposed to it in overly concentrated doses;
c) seems to waver around a lot between his "critical editions" (the blog that's being pasted here, and the one that's not) leaving us to wonder if he is actually making principled reevaluations or if it's just a different day on a different medication.

The idea that Pet Sounds is only a "13" (merely equal in quality to the Stones' Their Satanic Majesties) while Beggar's Banquet is a "15" is nothing more or less than laughable.

I admire George's energy and ambition, but he's going to have to stop writing on amphetamines one of these days.

[TMinthePM]

   "I admire George's energy and ambition, but he's going to have to stop writing on amphetamines one of these days."

   Well said!!!

    If only you could hear the laughter.!!!

[Mike's Beard]

George also is wrong in saying that Landlocked was a scrapped Beach Boys album from which Sunflower sprang from. Very wrong.

[TMinthePM]

Yes, but how is he right?

You know, the Slavic heart is quite large, and though unsparing of fault, quick to forgive.

[TMinthePM]

AS SEEN FROM OMSK: INTO THE WILDERNESS WITH THE MAD RUSSIAN -


CARL AND THE PASSIONS/SO TOUGH

Year Of Release: 1972
Record rating = 7
Overall rating = 10

One hell of a reinvention. Is it the Band or James Taylor they're trying to one-up here?
 Best song: MARCELLA

Track listing: 1) You Need A Mess Of Help To Stand Alone; 2) Here She Comes; 3) He Come Down; 4) Marcella; 5) Hold On Dear Brother; 6) Make It Good; 7) All This Is That; Cuddle Up.

Huge changes occurred between the release of Surf's Up and this one. With Bruce Johnston temporarily out of the band and the backpack of Smile outtakes nearing total exhaustion (and no commercial success whatsoever), the Beach Boys were apparently on the verge of collapsing. Instead, in a desperate move they tried to recast themselves according to the 'spirit of the times', producing this totally atypical oddity - perhaps the best thing about this album is that it's easily the most unpredictable, most un-Beach Boys like record ever made by the band.

I mean, what the hell, it's not even a Beach Boys album - it's made by this here band called 'Carl And The Passions', see? 'Carl And The Passions' - as if the Beach Boys traded in their cheerful radiant well-harmonized pop music for gritty soulful R'n'B! And obviously, they're having trouble with it, too, which explains the album title (So Tough), so self-ironic it hurts. Out of the eight songs on the album, maybe only about three or four bear any similarity to what we came to typically associate with the Beach Boys. It's partly due to the inclusion of two new guys as full-time band members: Ricky Fataar on drums (providing complex rhythm and blues drumming which would certainly be a tough nut for Dennis to crack) and Blondie Chaplin on vocals and guitars. Not only do they play on all of the tracks, they also write two of them and plus, Chaplin shares vocals, both backing and lead, throughout. Mike Love haters will be glad to know that the man's presence on the record is almost drastically limited - it's Carl's and Blondie Chaplin's show, mostly, with an occasional flash from Brian and Dennis. Aw, well, I'm pretty sure myself Mike more than certainly does not hold the record in high esteem, so they're even.

Anyway, once you get adjusted to the idea of the Beach Boys shifting their passions, it's really not such a bad record, certainly not a ridiculous embarrassing monster of an album as it is sometimes pegged (it's usually the typical second point of "jumping the ship" for those non-diehard BB fans who haven't jumped it already on Smiley Smile). Certainly a record that contains the likes of 'Marcella' can't be all that bad - it's a great, catchy, uplifting pop song, and a true gem from under Brian's pen, with a couple original touches like a haunting Harrisonesque slide guitar solo, but otherwise a typical great Beach Boys number. Then there's the suite of three atmospheric ballads that closes the album - overlooked by many but, in my humble opinion, just as good (well, okay, almost as good) as any given succession of three Pet Sounds tracks. Two of these, 'Make It Good' and 'Cuddle Up', showcase the constantly growing talents of Dennis - and while they are orchestrated, there's still an amazingly fresh feel of them being totally stripped-down and just beautiful for their melodies, not because somebody spent a hell of a lot of time tinkling on Coke bottles. I mean, geez, half of 'Cuddle Up' is just Dennis singing and a minimalistic piano - and then the piano goes away and is replaced by a rhythmless orchestral swoop, and it works, all the time. And there's a certain squeaky raspiness about Dennis' voice that renders it more humane than the ones of his two brothers (okay, so Carl rasps a lot on the 'harder' numbers on here, but what I mean is the 'God Only Knows' kind of delivery).

The rest of the album is certainly patchy, though - it's not that the songs are so bad, it's just that the three ballads and 'Marcella' betray personality and the other four songs betray personality, if you get me a-driftin'. The R'n'B of "Carl And The Passions" just isn't all that interesting. They must have spent a lot of time listening to the roots-rock revival of the late Sixties/early Seventies, and so, before eventually settling on typical Seventies' tackiness with the pseudo-retro image of 15 Big Ones, decided to try their hand at country-rock, gospel-rock and what-not. Too bad the world already had a "The Band" to take care of these things, and so Chaplin and Fataar's 'Here She Comes', while certainly not melodyless, just won't register in your memory that well. Carl's 'He Come Down' is an utter disgrace, though, putting that marvelous opening piano line to total waste in an endless series of generic 'yeah, I believe it', and 'Hold On Dear Brother' might really have sounded better on a James Taylor album than it does on a Beach Boys one.

So, actually, there was just no need for such a transformation. The perspective of seeing the Beach Boys as a "rootsy" band isn't any more enlightening than seeing them as a harmless oldies act releasing endless self-rehashes like L.A. and suchlike. Elton John may have the record as a particular favourite of his (no wonder - there's so much piano on here!), but he's the only one, I guess. Even back in its time, the album baffled the recording company so much they decided to put it out as a double LP together with Pet Sounds, easily the most ridiculous marketing decision ever made. (I mean, it's like saying to the customer - "won't you please buy this sh*t and we'll give you something real good as a bonus!"). And given the fact that the Beach Boys never recorded a similar album again, you can tell they weren't too proud of the results themselves. Even if - and I repeat - this really isn't an album to be ashamed of. If anything, it's competent; just somewhat generic in spots and with very few really high points.


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HOLLAND

Year Of Release: 1973
Record rating = 8
Overall rating = 11

Almost strangely 'mature' for the Beach Boys... one can only wonder what caused the vicious descent into infantilism on their next album.
 Best song: SAIL ON SAILOR

Track listing: 1) Sail On Sailor; 2) Steamboat; 3) California Saga/Big Sur; 4) California Saga/The Beaks Of Eagles; 5) California Saga/California; 6) The Trader; 7) Leaving This Town; Only With You; 9) Funky Pretty; [BONUS TRACKS:] 10) Mt Vernon And Fairway (Theme); 11) I'm The Pied Piper (instrumental); 12) Better Get Back In Bed; 13) Magic Transistor Radio; 14) I'm The Pied Piper; 15) Radio King Dom.

An improvement. Its exact quality is hotly debatable among Beach Boys fans, with evaluation ranging from "late period peak" to "boring pompous garbage", which at least definitely means there's something to this album. The Chaplin/Fataar duo are still in the band, yet the approach has been "backshifted" again, with the rootsy sound all but gone and the band gone back to the more traditional lush-pop that they were still doing so damn well on their 1970-71 albums. The ambitious duo who probably thought they could do better than the Wilson trio are now limited to just one song, and even that one ('Leaving This Town') sounds much more in line with the Beach Boys than their two contributions on Carl And The Passions.

And the entire album just sounds mature. It's not exactly conceptual, like Pet Sounds, but, seeing as how it was actually recorded in Holland for the most part (guess what? - hence the title!), it's maybe no surprise that a lot of the songs deal lyrically with sea, sailing, travel, and trade, matters not altogether untypical for the Dutch environment. In the middle of these let's-take-a-trip (nothing to do with 'Let's Go Trippin'!', though!) songs, Mike Love and Al Jardine insert a ponderous, three-track long epic 'California Saga', which, amazingly, fits in pretty well. And as a result of all this, Holland, while melody-wise maybe far from the strongest Beach Boys album, sounds like a coherent and mature album. It certainly thrives to be "serious", just like Pet Sounds, and it certainly achieves that aim. This is no lightweight pop here, like on Wild Honey or any other late Sixties albums, and it's not a disjointed mess of half-brilliance half-filler like the 1970-71 albums (and I'm not even beginning to compare it to the oddball debacle of the 1972 album). It's the Beach Boys trying to convey a message - arguably, for the last time in their career. (Not that Love You was a bad album, but it had no message as far as I'm concerned, except that, well, the Beach Boys love you, bucko).

This, of course, means, that the songs will have to grow on you. Few non-Mike Love songs on here have immediately gripping hooks, because, well, the Beach Boys obviously did not want these gripping hooks. Even the single 'Sail On Sailor', which was actually written after Warner Bros. had originally refused to issue Holland unless it featured a song with hit single potential, really does not have that hit single potential (and sure enough, it stalled at #49). It's more like a relaxed, mid-tempo rumination on the life of a seaman with metaphoric connotations. You can, of course, sing along with the shouted 'sail on, sail on sailor!' chorus, but that's not exactly enough for the song to become a hit. But its vocal melody is pretty and soothing as well, even if it's actually sung by Blondie Chaplin, and then there's the arrangement, relying on slide guitars all over and a powerful synth background (on Holland, the Beach Boys first started to use synthesizers in earnest, taking their cue from Stevie Wonder more than anybody else).

Then there's 'Steamboat', which sets Carl's subtle vocal melody against a really weird arrangement (looping pseudo-industrial rhythm with heavy emphasis on the percussion and low-pitched, almost comic, backing vocals) and then counterpoints it with a crashing slide solo from guest star Tony Martin, who puts any previous attempts to "rock out" by the likes of Ed Carter to shame. 'The Trader' is a surprisingly angry anti-imperialist tirade from Carl, well-going and punchy, but, again, where the hell is the hook? No immediate hook, and looks like there was never to be one. There's just the power of the angry lead vocal versus the uplifting ethereal backing vocals versus the gritty pulsation of the Moog bass. Same with the "softer" second part of the song. 'Leaving This Town' is certainly sung by Blondie with more than a nod to Stevie Wonder, although it's still hardly an album highlight (and the lengthy Moog solo is a waste of tape). Carl again takes over on the pretty, untrivial love ballad 'Only With You', and Brian's weird 'Funky Pretty' closes the album on an unexpectably oddball note instead of an "epic" or overtly sentimental conclusion. Well, it is both funky (in parts) and pretty (in other parts), I guess.

Now don't think that I take this lack of hooks (in fact, lack of memorability) for granted. If the melodies on here were just as interesting as the ones on Pet Sounds, I'd have no problem calling this the best BB album ever. As it happens, I do have some of these problems: Holland is one of those records you can actually respect more than you can enjoy it. Perversely enough, it's only when the record ceases to be "respectable" that it becomes "enjoyable" - Mike Love's 'California Saga' is the most lightweight thing on the album, yet contains some of its most memorable parts. And plus, it's simple without being simplistic, and childish without being infantile - after listening to it, I'm totally amazed at how Mike could have the nerve to push the band into 15 Big Ones territory three years later. 'The Beaks Of Eagles' part is almost proggy in essence, when Mike recites the Robinson Jeffers poem over a background of mountaineering flutes before launching into the fun poppy upbeat section of the song. And the 'California' part, with its bubbling synth part, while too similar in form to 'California Girls'/'Help Me Rhonda' territory to suggest a totally new outburst of creativity, is still arguably the last time in Beach Boys history when they were able to write a shiny sunny surfin'-style ode and not come across as sullen nostalgia boys by any means. Maybe it's due to the silly bubbly bass. I dunno.

In any case, Holland scores, and it scores regardless of whether you prefer to treat that tacked-on EP called 'Mt Vernon And Fairway (A Fairy Tale)' as charming and hilarious or as annoying and dumb. It's a little "musical story" from Brian and his then-partner Jack Rieley, about a prince who discovers rock'n'roll radio on a magic transistor played by the mysterious pied piper (kinda like Pete Townshend's territory, eh?), and I find it a bit dippy for my own personal taste, although I certainly wouldn't mind little kids enjoying it, if that's possible. I am not sure, though, that it has so much importance that its inclusion on the Holland CD made it necessary for Capitol to turn the So Tough/Holland edition into a two-albums-on-two-CDs package instead of the usual cute little two-fer, though. Then again, maybe they just aren't sure that So Tough will ever sell on its own - just as they weren't sure of that in 1972.

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IN CONCERT

Year Of Release: 1973
Record rating = 7
Overall rating = 10

You may like it. I like it, too. I also think it's a vital link in the band's transformation into a corny oldies act.
 Best song: [cut]

Track listing: 1) Sail On Sailor; 2) Sloop John B.; 3) The Trader; 4) You Still Believe In Me; 5) California Girls; 6) Darlin'; 7) Marcella; Caroline No; 9) Leaving This Town; 10) Heroes And Villains; 11) Funky Pretty; 12) Let The Wind Blow; 13) Help Me Rhonda; 14) Surfer Girl; 15) Wouldn't It Be Nice; 16) We Got Love; 17) Don't Worry Baby; 18) Surfin' USA; 19) Good Vibrations; 20) Fun Fun Fun.

Speaking about unimaginative album titles... don't confuse this with the 1964 Concert album, because the two are like Heaven and Hell in stature. This here thing is much more slick and professional, not in the least due to the addition of Chaplin and Fataar (Dennis doesn't even drum on these recordings - although the liner notes excuse him by saying it was because of a hand-cutting accident), but about as exciting and arousing as the studio album that would follow three years later - that is, if you have actually heard Concert and know what the Beach Boys really sounded like in their true prime.

Well, no, of course, it ain't bad. Gosh, there's twenty tracks present and maybe just a couple out of them are mildly irritating - there's a bit too much stuff from Holland, for instance, and I'd rather have 'em do 'California Saga' in its entirety than having to hear yet another version of 'Leaving This Town'; replacing the Moog of the original with your basic Hammond organ doesn't help the track much, if you ask me. On the other hand, at least the Holland material ensures that the album doesn't sound like just a "greatest hits live" collection - which was actually one of the intentions, because the band was playing sort of a 'retrospective' setlist and you can find songs from all over tucked randomly into separate corners, from 'Surfin' 'USA' to 'Marcella'.

I'm really not sure if the band members are to be blamed for anything, though. Sure they couldn't perform like they did in 1964 because they weren't teenagers any more. (More like unwashed hoodlums, if you care to contemplate some of the Mike Love photos in the booklet). But then again, nobody forced them to do all these oldies. The studio versions of all the classic Sixties hits they're performing here would wash away the Holland material - but, perverse as it seems, I'd rather have 'em do Holland material and maybe obscure non-overplayed tracks off the albums they made in the last six years than anything pre-Wild Honey. You want an example? Sure you got one. The show starts with 'Sail On Sailor' - it's a real blast, it's energizing and uplifting, it maybe doesn't sound better than the original but it sure can compete. The band is inspired. Then - obviously, to follow a sailing song with another sailing song - the band, with a minimal break, launch into 'Sloop John B', and the excitement is gone. The harmonies are sloppy, the vocals keep jugglin' and jigglin' on top of each other, and the tempo is frantically sped up as if they were catapulting themselves into a drunken jig or something. Not to mention the cheesy wheezy synth lines supporting the guitar, or Mike Love's Caribbean accent on a couple lines. All these little things combine into one major impression - the Beach Boys are becoming tacky.

And careless. To be frank, I don't much care about intentionally singing out of tune, or intentionally destroying the impeccable vocal harmony thing. I don't care much about "rockifying" songs like 'Help Me Rhonda' - just because you put a little bit of distortion on the guitar, that doesn't make it "hard", you know. I don't care for Al Jardine totally screwing up the vocal melody of the song as if he just can't sing or something. Occasionally, they pull their stuff together and blow your mind out - 'Surfer Girl', for instance, reinstates your faith in the band just as 'Help Me Rhonda' managed to all but annihilate it. But then they go and turn the "quiet" section in 'Good Vibrations' into even more of a singalong than it was on Live In London by having Ricky Fataar actually drum up a rhythm during that part - so that the audience had a better capacity of headbanging to it?

Oh well, at least Mike Love doesn't make any corny jokes this time. But then again, corniness in your jokes might be easier to swallow than corniness in your music. In their already mentioned prime, the Beach Boys live kicked a lot of ass and had a lot of fun, but the Beach Boys were never the clowns of their work - not even when singing stuff like 'Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow'. They were young kids having kiddy fun on stage, that was great. When you have these grown up guys with beards and egos and ten years of experience behind their back and they do these lame "kiddy fun" of pranking I've written about occurs in less than half the tracks, actually, and there's plenty of solid stuff on here (there's even one song that you won't find anywhere else, a rejected Holland outtake called 'We Got Love' - it's nothing to write home about, though, and written by the Chaplin/Fataar team, too). But I think I'm justified in my bitching because, after all, if I have to own a Beach Boys live album, I have to be goshdarn sure I have a friggin' serious reason to do that. None of the songs here are better than the studio originals, after all, and when I try to dig in and see what makes the album "special", I only find this clowny attitude. That sure ain't no consolation.

In conclusion, if you really wanna own a BB live album, I'd recommend the Concert/Live In London two-fer instead - the first album is great, the second one offers a more serious and sober approach than In Concert, although you'll have to tackle all those corny jokes anyway. If you can't get that twofer, well, go for this album instead. Maybe professionalism is what you're after, in which case you can't go wrong with a Fataar/Chaplin lineup set of performances. I guess.

[TMinthePM]

I suppose that it has been unfair of me to simply post George without contributing my own responses and reflections. I find myself rather pensive this week. No, more like a percolating pensivity. (Well, if positivity is a word, why not pensivity?) To put it plainly - Thoughts are bubbling up like endless words into a paper cup...

It's this Uranus/Saturn/Pluto thing I'm sure, but more of that to come.

Well, George here is displaying signs of outright irritability, damning CATP/Holland/Concert with faint praise. But then, the story, as well as the recorded output, does become progressively more depressing from here on in. Must admit he sums up my feelings for The Trader as it wanders aimlessly hookless across the sonic landscape. But Rhonda not a suitable rocker?

I do like the link to Stevie Wonder tho. Now that is a fact. We spent many an hour back in the day blowing smoke rings to the sound of Talking Book, Carl and the Passions, Innervisions, Holland. And when Concert appeared it was especially cool because, if that cover photo was taken at the circular C.W. Post campus theater, which we have always believed, the the guy with the long dark shoulder-length hair about lower-left-middle is me. But if the pic is not Post, and the guy is not me, then it must be my girlfriend, Laurel.

 
 

[TMinthePM]

I think I'd just as soon respond with a "No Comment" when considering these two stinkers. Interestingly, I was coming off a rather heavy immersion in jazz when the Big 15 came out. And I particularly recall how profoundly Coltrane and Hartman had moved me in "Lush Life" - "romance is mush, stifling those who strive, I'll live a lush life in some small dive..."

To turn from that to this was a dive indeed. 4 - 5 years earlier these guys were delivering the rockingest shows around. Here, well just look at the portraits on the cover. They look like they're sitting for their 5th grade class pix back at Hawthorne Elementary. But that's nothing compared to the infantile gurrglings sitting in the grooves.

But there's growth here. Yeah, from 5th to 6th Grade judging by the back cover portrait on Love You. There they all are - Giggy, Bubby, Fluffy, Skippy and Skooter. Our Gang. Careening in the grooves from flat out clown car - slap, bam, boom - to full fetal-gothic-regression - pap, pat, pat'er on her butt. 

Just take one second to glance back at the confident young men on the cover of say, Today. Whew! The inspiration of the 60s is here all played out and we're left with the husk - like a fish out of water wreathing desperately on the dock.

But, to be fair, John Lennon by this point had slapped a Kotex to his forehead and Mick Jagger was claiming to be a goat!

Oh, what a falling off there was. As from Hyperion to a satyr.



  15 BIG ONES

Year Of Release: 1976
Record rating = 6
Overall rating = 9

I bet you ANYTHING this album could have been a nostalgic masterpiece. As it is, it's a nostalgic cornball.
 Best song: TALK TO ME

Track listing: 1) Rock And Roll Music; 2) It's OK; 3) Had To Phone Ya; 4) Chapel Of Love; 5) Everyone's In Love With You; 6) Talk To Me; 7) That Same Song; TM Song; 9) Palisades Park; 10) Susie Cincinnati; 11) A Casual Look; 12) Blueberry Hill; 13) Back Home; 14) In The Still Of The Night; 15) Just Once In My Life.

I presume the title refers to the amount of booze they had to shove down Brian's throat to get him to sign his producer's credits on the record (a hypothesis further confirmed by the state of his vocals on all the tracks where he sings lead). Because the songs are actually very small, in the two - two and a half minutes range normally. A nod to the Ramones this ain't, though.

Apparently, by the time the band recorded Holland, both Dennis and Carl had pretty much run out of creative steam - at least, lost enough of it to warrant major creative control on the next album. So for three years the band essentially did nothing apart from occasional touring and helping old friends like Elton John on backing vocals, until Warner suddenly discovered that the Beach Boys hadn't made a studio record in a hell of a long time and then there was this contract thing and you know the rest. Anyway, the company persuaded the band to get Brian out of his seclusion, market the "extraction" as equal to the band's creative rejuvenation and go ahead that way. And that's what they did.

The only thing I can suggest is that Brian was simply way too weak and feeble-willed to allow himself to be "entrapped" in that way and have his name so closely linked to the making of 15 Big Ones. Or maybe he was feeling guilty about his 'betraying' the band for so long. Or both. Or something else. The fact is, and it's a pretty weird fact, that 15 Big Ones, however you look at it, has very little to do with Brian Wilson the creative artist as we know him. True, the majority of these songs are credited to the Wilson/Love songwriting team, just like in the good old days. But if Brian really wrote these songs, he most certainly wrote only the skeletons of these melodies. And true, the record says 'produced by Brian Wilson', but, er, can you really prove that he did? Listen to Brian's "production" (or, rather, a total lack of it) on the subsequent Love You - this is certainly what he was capable of after more than half a decade of lurking inside his house. But chimes and bells? Slick lounge jazz horns? Las Vegas vocal harmonies? Brian Wilson simply could not do those things at the time.

This is Mike's show all the way, baby. I can sort of understand the guy, though. Obviously, he was annoyed at the fact that early Seventies Beach Boys albums were downplaying his role so much, and this was his chance to wrestle the situation under his own eternal control. He could wave the half-alive bearded bodyweight of Brian as a banner ('Brian is back!') and use it as the conductor for his own conception of the band. And it's not like my opinion of Mr Love is so low I'm trying to present him as this evil Machiavellian kind of plotter guy. It might even be that he acted with the best possible intentions - he wanted the band to become popular and a vital commercial force again (no harm in that), and he also desperately wanted to get back to the kind of simple, life-loving, shiny unpretentious pop music they were making before Pet Sounds came along (no harm in that either - as stuff like 'Do It Again' proved seven years before that).

Unfortunately, his intentions, good or bad, misfired, resulting in the band's weakest Seventies album. I don't think anybody ever doubted the fact that 15 Big Ones is an intentional attempt to sound as nostalgic as possible, going back to the Beach Boys' early period and their rockabilly, doo-wop and Phil Spector roots. I also don't think anybody ever doubted that the album sounds anything but nostalgic, taking old and "archaic" melodies and drenching them in the sea of corny Seventies MOR production. There are no classic Beach Boys harmonies on here. No fresh ringing guitars. Sappy orchestration and corny cocktail jazz horns are the norm of the day - some of the songs could be confused with Barry Manilow, except that Barry at least has a good singing voice, whereas it seems like all of the Beach Boys except for the ever-healthy Mike had caught collective bronchitis on the day they went into the studio.

Corny production plus hideous vocals from the world's one-time number one vocal band = very much close to sh*t. That said, I'm a little bit more forgiving of the record than your average critic, once I get to overlook the obvious problems as well as the painful realisation that all the 'Brian-less' basis elaborately built up by flawed, but artistically valid records like Surf's Up and Holland has gone to sh*t in the matter of one recording session. Looking towards the actual melodies, I find them. I find them in many places. I find them in the covers - no, not on the opening disgraceful pop-jazzified horror of 'Rock And Roll Music' (which has nothing to do with rock and roll music), but in Phil Spector covers like 'Chapel Of Love' (corny, but great chord changes nevertheless!) and 'Just Once In My Life', or in the funny 'Palisades Park', or in Seneca's 'Talk To Me', Carl's one true moment of brilliance on the album and easily the best song of the bunch just because the vocals are so utterly gorgeous.

I also find them in the originals. Do you vomit when 'It's OK' comes along? Probably not, and that's because the song has a solid pair of hooks sticking right out at ya. The horns can be cheesy. The little bits of synth playing can be too, even if they actually predict the Cars. But gimme a fresh soundin' electric guitar and I'll cook you up a classy arrangement without all the horns and synths and what-not, and you'll get a lightweight, throwawayish, but utterly charming pop song. Listen to 'TM Song' ('TM', of course, stands for 'transcendental meditation'). Can't imagine it on Smiley Smile or Friends? Sure you can. Even Al's song, 'Susie Cincinnati', is a lot of fun, although that one was actually a long-time reject from around the time of Sunflower. Brian's 'Back Home'? Get the man a spare throat, put him in a better mood (those hey-heys and whoohoos at the end sound downright pathetic), and you have something there. In fact, the only hopeless song on the entire album is Mike's 'Everyone's In Love With You' - spare us your conversations with the Lord, Mike, you can't even make a decent joke onstage.

In other words, this album could have been better. It's also an album that you can eventually get used to. The biggest problem, of course, is that you don't really have to get used to it. 15 Big Ones is supposed to be the Beach Boys' Seventies' equivalent to All Summer Long. Since it's so obviously inferior, I can't see anybody who is not an active fan of the tackiest Seventies stuff veneering this record. Geez, we even get to see Brian's hairy chest on the front cover. And the band in Olympic rings? All bearded and glammy? Way to go, kid!


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
LOVE YOU

Year Of Release: 1977
Record rating = 9
Overall rating = 12

Imagine a one-man "Smiley Smile" drenched in synths, but so much more fleshed out?
 Best song: GOOD TIME

Track listing: 1) Let Us Go On This Way; 2) Roller Skating Child; 3) Mona; 4) Johnny Carson; 5) Good Time; 6) Honkin' Down The Highway; 7) Ding Dang; Solar System; 9) The Night Was So Young; 10) I'll Bet He's Nice; 11) Let's Put Our Hearts Together; 12) I Wanna Pick You Up; 13) Airplane; 14) Love Is A Woman.

Humanity is one big f***. "Brian Is Back!", everybody was shouting when what was really back was a manipulated zombie clone of Brian; yet for some reason, when this album came out - and the true Brian finally made his last appearance on a Beach Boys record - nobody felt the need to shout any more. In fact, just like 15 Big Ones was panned for cheesiness, lack of originality, and hoarse vocalizing, so was Love You initially critically dismissed for being way too juvenile, shallow and underproduced. Well... so it was. But who cares?

Fact is, Love You couldn't be more different from its predecessor; the only thing that unites them is that some of the better Brian-penned melodies on Big Ones certainly come from the same ballpark as the songs on Love You. But this time, nobody fucks 'em up. In fact, the secret of this record is that it was originally supposed to be a Brian solo offering (called "Brian Wilson Loves You"), where he would be able to do as he please. Eventually, though, probably suspecting that he was treasuring his best stuff for that solo album (which he, indeed, was), the rest of the band - or should we just say Mike? - convinced him to release all these songs under the "Beach Boys" moniker. Again, whether this thing was honest or dishonest doesn't matter; what matters is that it was arguably the last artistically sensible decision the Beach Boys as a band had taken in their career.

Because the Beach Boys would never again make a record like Love You. The resulting product sounds a bit too close to the brief scattered experimental snippets of Smiley Smile, and everybody knows that was the album that started the band's commercial decline. Love You is way too personal, too Brian-esque, to conform to the band's being recast as a corny oldies act at the time. At first glance, you could say they are continuing the way of 15 Big Ones - this time, there are fourteen songs in whole, all of 'em short, some of them "rockers" that don't really rock, some of them ballads that don't really glow with lyrical genius (pretty much every love song on the album contains nothing but pedestrian cliches, a far cry from the introspection of Pet Sounds indeed).

But the songs are good! Every single song is good. They got hooks and great key changes. Unexpected melody shifts. Diversity of atmosphere. And where in a different world their being so dreadfully underproduced might have caused you to puke, after the Manilow-isms of 15 Big Ones Brian's arrangements, mainly based on drums, monstruously fat synth bass, and organ, seem like a last-time gulp of fresh air. In fact, most of the songs sound like half-fleshed out demos, but they are not: obviously, Brian wanted the songs to sound that way. And they're not demos. It's just a special way of production.

Like Today!, the album is divided into a "bouncier" first half and a "mellower" second one. Of course, the 'bouncy' half is nowhere near what we think of as bouncy in reliance to the Beach Boys. An energized yelp opens 'Let Us Go On This Way', and you're greeted with a rudimentary (but very loud) drum rhythm, synth bass that gives the song sort of an industrial flavour, three or four organ chords in the background (that's, uh, the main melody), a couple brass notes (these would be the "overdubs"!), and a gritty hoarse vocal delivery interspersed with more traditional Beach Boys vocal harmonies. And it all works - there are hooks, there are unpredictabilities in the development (and the tune is two minutes long, right?).

'Roller Skating Child' is one of those songs that could have suited 15 Big Ones - but not with more of that synth bass by no means! Brian's arrangements breathe life into those tunes where Mike's arrangements were sucking it out of them. Brian's hoarse vocals may be particularly grating on 'Mona', but that doesn't mean the looping structure of the song, replete with church bells and horns that evade any possible tackiness, isn't pure genius. And his rumination on 'Johnny Carson', for once free of the general atmosphere of mental uncertainty and frailty of the album, has no analogies in the Beach Boys catalog. The way it alternates between the quiet drumless piano part and the faster singalong parts is just so goshdarn natural and exciting. 'Who's the man that we admire? Johnny Carson is a real live wire!' gives me the hoodwinkles every time, whatever that would mean.

I won't dwell on every song, but highlights abound on here anyway. My personal favourite is the old 1970 leftover 'Good Time' - unsurprisingly, featuring the best, cleanest Brian vocal performance on the album, giving you somewhat of an unpleasant contrast between the old and the new - but maybe it's just due to the song's "outstanding" role (and the fact that the chorus of the song is a marvelous reminiscence of the angelic gorgeousness of years gone by). But don't take that at the expense of 'Honkin' Down The Highway', the album's "driving song", with marvelous descending vocal lines in the verses; or at the expense of Brian's collaboration with Roger McGuinn, 'Ding Dang', with the best 'comic' vocal harmonies of the band's career; or at the expense of any of those ballads in the second half.

The ballads do suffer from extreme shallowness, of course; when I look at these songs and compare them with "happenings ten years time ago", I can't help but compare the situation with Ray Davies' degradation in the Seventies from one of the wittiest "portraitist" of his generation to a cliche-driven self-repetitor. But what helps out here is that the melodies are still great - underdeveloped, underproduced, but still based on mind-blowing note sequences; and besides, at least Brian has an excuse, given his lengthy period of physical and moral decay. Maybe these songs aren't the pinnacle of Beach Boys sophistication, but they're certainly heartfelt and they're certainly indicative of Brian's state of mind at the time: fragile, paranoid, maybe even "atrophied" in certain respects, but at the same time honest, gentle, and loving. It's like a record made by somebody convalescing from a long-time mental illness... and, well, I guess it is. Listen to 'I'll Bet He's Nice', for instance, or to Brian's duet with his wife Marilyn on 'Let's Put Our Hearts Together'. Simplistic? But oh so enchanting. And it's even nicer when Dennis, fully understanding the kind of atmosphere his brother was in, delivers a very similar "hoarse, but endearing" vocal part on the half-love song, half-lullaby 'I Wanna Pick You Up' (with yet another totally unbeatable melody).
All in all, it's an album that grows on you (I remember being completely disgusted upon first listen), and in some ways, even more of an anomaly in the Beach Boys catalog than Carl And The Passions. Fortunately, it is now finally starting to get the necessary dose of critical and artistic respect which was, for a long time, denied to it mainly due to the hideous timing of release; sandwiched in between 15 Big Ones and M.I.U. Album, it never really stood a chance. From now on, though, the band would be playing it safe and sound.

[TMinthePM]

The mummified remains of a once great band deliver the Rock n Roll equivalent of Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein:



M.I.U. ALBUM

Year Of Release: 1978
Record rating = 6
Overall rating = 9

Err... back to the roots. An album to dance to, and an album to twirl your nose to?
 Best song: I. Do. Not. Know.

Track listing: 1) She's Got Rhythm; 2) Come Go With Me; 3) Hey Little Tomboy; 4) Kona Coast; 5) Peggy Sue; 6) Wontcha Come Out Tonight?; 7) Sweet Sunday; Belles Of Paris; 9) Pitter Patter; 10) My Diane; 11) Match Point Of Our Love; 12) Winds Of Change.

M.I.U. Album (who's responsible for those horrendous titles anyway? Apparently, this one stands for Maharishi International University Album) initiates what has been universally recognized as the last and worst streak of Beach Boys albums (which actually started with 15 Big Ones, but then got unexpectedly disrupted by Love You), the one that transformed them into a cheap cash-in nostalgia outfit and will forever remain as a serious blemish on their reputation. These complaints are definitely understandable: neither this nor any of the following records don't even pretend to have the least 'serious' value, presenting the Beach Boys as little more than a decent simplistic pop band. They are for the most part 'controlled' by Mike Love, with Brian Wilson more of a faceless symbol than anything else, and obviously can't hold a candle to the Beachers' classic records.

That said, what the hell is with all the people who bash the very hell out of these records? Come on now, people, they're not that bad. At least they lack the totally hideous Vegasy overproduction of 15 Big Ones, which helps them sound fresher and - sometimes - less predictable. Yes, the Beach Boys are back to their roots, doing limp surf rock numbers and unimaginative ballads; but hey, that's what they used to do in 1963-65, and nobody blamed them for that, or at least, the atmosphere was kinda milder. M.I.U. Album, in particular, is hardly any worse than any of the Beach Boys' first three albums - yes, it's a dropdown, but that's why I give it a 'mediocre' rating. But no lower. The songs are good.

Except for the second side, that is, which mostly blows. But let's just take a look from the very beginning. 'She's Got Rhythm' is a great surf-pop track reminiscent of many of the boys' early semi-classics, with an immediately recognizable falsetto from Bryan and a super-duper catchy melody. Okay, so the song is written in 1978; but would you want to say that the same old semi-classics were more 'revolutionary' in 1964? The Beach Boys didn't invent surf rock, for Chrissake! They were just the best in the genre, and judging by the quality of these here songs, they still were by 1978. 'Come Go With Me'? More of the same, cool vocal harmonies and a great looping melody. 'Hey Little Tomboy' is a minor gem, said to be an old Brian-penned Holland outtake. Cozy and strangely endearing in its sentimentality, with a moving 'dialogue' between Brian and Mike Love. 'Kona Coast' is cheesy, isn't it? A cheap cash-in on 'Hawaii', eh? Well, yes, of course it is, but I could care less. All I see is a catchy and cute melody, made just a wee bit sleazy by the fact that they so shamelessly make Brian imitate the 'Hawa-a-a-a-iii' vocal harmonies of that early classic. Okay, I can disregard that.

The cover of 'Peggy Sue'? It probably sucks big time, doesn't it? Probably does, but I couldn't explain why. It's one of Buddy Holly's best songs, and the Beach Boys do it perfect justice. Yes, many people have done it justice already, but so friggin' dang what? It still rules. 'Wontcha Come Out Tonight?' Okay, that one irks me a bit with the stupid croaking harmonies ('kama kama kamaut tonahte'), but otherwise, I've heard Beach Boys sing far worse songs in the past. Bah.
Okay, so problems start on the second side. For some reason, they collected all those trashy, sappy ballads and heaped them onto the second side - maybe they hoped the critics who were to give positive reviews to the record would never get to the second side anyway. Only 'Pitter Patter' qualifies on there, a somewhat out of place pop-rocker with cool rain-imitating vocal harmonies and a nice keyboard drive. Oh, and probably 'My Diane' as well, Dennis Wilson's only contribution to the album, both creatively and vocally. It lacks this cheap sentimentality and tepid strings that tend to ruin everything else. Even so, I can see how stuff like 'Sweet Sunday' and 'Match Point Of Our Love' could be tolerable; the only real stinkers on the record, in my humble opinion, are 'Belles Of Paris', with absolutely hideous lyrics about 'romancing in Paris', full of trite 'sightseeing' cliches, and a near complete lack of interesting melodies (Mike Love should definitely stay away from French pop influences!), and the album-closing 'Winds Of Change', another piece of strings-laden 'emotional' junk. Perhaps they should have given that last track to Karen Carpenter - it might have benefited from her voice. Then again, maybe not.

Anyway, let's just throw away the stuff I call "Selfportrait complex": lower your expectations significantly and you'll come to like this record. If not for the stinkers on the second side, it would have been an easy strong ten. As it is, it's an equally strong nine. I can't believe certain reviewers gave it something like one and a half stars. When are we people starting to judge the records by their actual melodic strength, not by our expectations? In a hundred years' time, when the still active distance between the years 1962 and 1978 will have been effaced, nobody will be able to tell the difference between Surfin' USA and M.I.U. Album, provided that people will still be listening to the Beach Boys, of course (and I'm an optimist). Of course, it is a pity to realize that Brian Wilson was so creatively washed-up he was no longer able to control things around, and it's a pity to realize that the Beach Boys were just about the first band in their generation to 'sink' so low from the once high sphere they were occupying (while, for instance, the Stones, the Who and the ex-Beatles were still going very strong), but that don't give us no right to condemn albums like these to the wastebasket without even bothering to give them a fair listen. Figures.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
L.A. (LIGHT ALBUM)

Year Of Release: 1979
Record rating = 6
Overall rating = 9

Disco and Nippon packaged together. Some find it offensive, BUT...
 Best song: SUMAHAMA

Track listing: 1) Good Timin'; 2) Lady Lynda; 3) Full Sail; 4) Angel Come Home; 5) Love Surrounds Me; 6) Sumahama; 7) Here Comes The Night; Baby Blue; 9) Goin' South; 10) Shortenin' Bread.

Gonna be defendin' this one, too, to my very last breath. Yeah, I'm perfectly aware that L.A. is often taken on by critics and fans as just about the absolute nadir of the Beach Boys' career, but see, I'm actually rating records primarily according to their melodic strength, not according to various socially tinged prejudices. And so far, I've been relatively pleased with L.A.: it has its share of stuff that never gets me high, but it has its share of solid material as well.
The funny thing is, although both this one and M.I.U. receive absolutely the same rating, they are, in fact, very much different from each other. Just about the only thing they have in common is the abysmal 'entitling principle' - who the hell needs these abbreviations? Is it supposed to look like newspaper issues or what? Oh thank you very much, mister Love, that you have at least bothered to explain the abbreviature for us - probably so that the fans and critics wouldn't be wanting to decipher 'L.A.' as 'Lousy Album' and keep that title forever. Eh?

When, in fact, it ain't that lousy at all. The big news is that this time around, there's not even a single true embarrassment on this record, nothing in the pitiful caliber of 'Belles Of Paris' or 'Winds Of Change' from the last record. The bad news, then, is that there are far fewer peaks - most of the songs are mediocre at the very best, and not too memorable. Two people are responsible for the most part of the record: Dennis Wilson and Mike Love (apparently, Brian was completely burned out this time - his presence on the album is next to none). Dennis Wilson comes up to the front with some more of these soulful ballads, and none of them can really hold a candle to 'My Diane'. I have come to really appreciate his hoarse, gruff voice, so untypical for a Beach Boy, and the passion and non-cheap sentimentality of 'Angel Come Home' and the Carl-penned/Dennis-sung 'Love Surrounds Me' really saves them from ruin, but I miss the hooks - all the rhythmic synthesizer passages and generic, routine, bland harmonies can't compensate for the traditional headspinning you experience from listening to a classic BB ballad. Atmospheric, for sure, and sometimes even tear-bringing, but try to remember them once they're gone, and you're bound to fail.

This leaves us with Mike Love, who contributes one of the most unjustly ridiculed songs in the entire Beach Boys catalog: 'Sumahama'. Okay, I know I am now approaching the sacred altar of web reviewing and putting all of my credibility on it, but dammit, I'll still go ahead and say it: the song is a musical masterpiece, and easily the best, most inspired, catchy and effective blending of classic 'surf-pop' with traditional Japanese motives. And don't you mention me no fuckin' 'guilty pleasures'. A 'guilty pleasure' is a bad, dumb, melodyless song that manages to hit your senses nevertheless - something by Kiss, perhaps? 'Sumahama' features an impeccable melody and a terrific, complex, well-working arrangement. Sure, it's not something we'd come to expect from the Beach Boys, right? That's why we all despise the song. Hah hah. Cast off your prejudices and revel in Mike Love's bizarre fantasies. The only thing that bugs me is the lyrics - I guess formally he's still continuing with that 'romantic travelogue' vibe of 'Belles Of Paris', and the faux-Japanese thematics of the song is laughable. Perhaps it would have been a better idea if he'd agreed to sing the entire song in Japanese, not just one of the verses.

Elsewhere, Brian contributes one really solid number - 'Good Timin', a classic, if not tremendously memorable, ballad with all the harmonies in place - and then the album ends on a goofy, hilarious note with the traditional folkie ditty 'Shortenin' Bread'. Plus, let's not forget Al Jardine's lovely tribute to his wife - 'Lady Lynda' is also a highlight; I've read that the main melody of the song was lifted from Bach (!), but hey, so was 'A Whiter Shade Of Pale', after all. In fact, 'Lady Lynda', 'Sumahama' and the fact that none of the other songs are truly bad nearly drove me to giving the album a 10, but if you have already heard the record, you probably can guess what led me to diminishing the rating by one point.

Yeah, that's right. Whoever needs a ten-minute disco version of 'Here Comes The Night' from Wild Honey? And may I ask why it was so necessary for the Beach Boys to jump on the disco bandwagon as late as 1979, when the fad was already on its way out? And in such an uncompromised way? I mean, okay, if they really wanted to present their younger fans with some contemporary rhythms, why not record an entire toss-off record of disco tunes and specially subtitle it 'NOT FOR THE SENSITIVE ONES'? And we could all have been spared this horror. No, I don't have anything against disco as a whole, and moreover, I have definitely heard worse disco exercises than this one; but ten minutes of rather uninspiring disco rhythms in the middle of a ballad-filled Beach Boys album isn't exactly my idea of having a good time. Am I supposed to jump out of my chair and work my hips for ten minutes, only to sink back at the end of the track and relaxate to the sound of more ballads coming in? What a stupid, moronic idea.

That said, what a great idea for Capitol to make all these 2-fer releases. You know how this one, M.I.U./L.A. is considered the worst seventy minutes of the Beach Boys? Well now, trim it - throw out 'Here Comes The Night', 'Belles Of Paris', 'Winds Of Change' and two or three more songs of those that you despise particularly, and hey, you might have something there... Ah well.


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KEEPIN' THE SUMMER ALIVE

Year Of Release: 1980
Record rating = 3
Overall rating = 6

The Beach Boys go Dorky. Not synth-heavy, not electronic, not trendy - just Dorky.
 Best song: SOME OF YOUR LOVE

Track listing: 1) Keepin' The Summer Alive; 2) Oh Darling; 3) Some Of Your Love; 4) Livin' With A Heartache; 5) School Day (Ring Ring Goes The Bell); 6) Goin' On; 7) Sunshine; When Girls Get Together; 9) Santa Ana Winds; 10) Endless Harmony.

Okay, even my tolerance isn't as immeasurable as it may seem. I ain't gonna stand up for that one, because there's not that much to stand up for. This is arguably the first Beach Boys album on which EVERY song sucks. EVERY one. I didn't believe it was possible, but it is. The best I can say is that there are moments, you know, as in 'that little neat vocal twist at 2:33 into the song', moments that can be funny or inspired; but if I were to compose an anthology of late period Beach Boys, I would have betrayed historical truth and simply not mention this album's existence at all. At all.
Why should I? The Wilsons are hardly engaged here at all. The main stars of the album are Bruce Johnston, who produced the album in the ugliest way possible; Mike Love, who simply couldn't recognize a good melody unless it flew out of a Japanese inspiration; and - drumroll - Randy Bachman (YES!!!!), who is the co-writer of two of the songs on here. You know something's wrong when the Beach Boys have to resort to Bachman collaborations in order to fill up an album. It goes without saying that Brian is hardly responsible for anything on here, of course.

To make matters worse, not only are most of the songs atrocious, the overall sound of the album kinda puts me in stupor. It sounds nothing like the two records before it, completely devoid of the normal Beach Boys harmonies and relying more on stupid keyboards than guitars. Yet it is in no way 'contemporary' - the Beach Boys, having scaled the depths of disgrace with 'Here Comes The Night', completely abandon any attempts at incorporating disco or synth-pop or, well, anything that would be recognizable as 'Eighties'. Perhaps, if only they had been more inspired, this would have been a salvation. As it is, Keepin' The Summer Alive should better be retitled Keepin' Primitive Retro Radio Fodder Alive - this is not even 'teenpop', this is just a big bunch of stupidity. And I won't even concentrate on the endless sarcastic remarks concerning the album cover: the Beach Boys in a bubble? They sign the formal paper self-isolating themselves from everything. Geez, now that's embarrassing.
I don't even know where to begin describing these 'songs' (aka 'worthless piles of simplistic doggone crap'). The fact that they put a cover of Chuck Berry's 'School Day' at the very middle of the album is nothing less than a tasteless insult to the old master - it might not be the Beach Boys' worst cover ever (at any rate, it's not any worse than Paul McCartney putting out all those oldies' albums), but sandwiched in between this RAOR (as in, 'retro AOR') sludge it just can't get any worse. Hell, to the left of it is the Bachman-Wilson penned 'Livin' With A Heartache', a generic two-chord four-minute bore that could have just as well been penned by a four-year old, and to the right is Mike Love's 'Goin' On', an equally generic R'n'B sendup that just concentrates on those weedy keyboards and pseudo-Beach Boys harmonies. Hey, the All-Music Guide called this a 'Beach Boys-soundalike' album, but I must vehemently disagree: M.I.U. was a 'Beach Boys soundalike' album, this one just sounds nothing like the Beach Boys. Actually, it sounds nothing like any kind of music I enjoy listening to.

Let me now explain what it actually gets a three, not a one, for. There are moments. Moments. Like the moments in 'Some Of Your Love', where something funny and joyful is really going on. No, the song is no great shakes, it's just about the closest to a 'Beach Boys-soundalike' track on here, although I could easily do without the corny trumpet. Then there's 'Santa Ana Winds', which is completely forgettable on a large scale, but it at least has some guitar, a few nice harmonica lines and unobtrusive orchestration. 'Oh Darlin' and 'Sunshine' aren't offensive, either, although I can't remember how any one of them goes.

But even these weak efforts all come to a dead halt when you have to deal with something as uncompromisingly dumb as the title track, or such a horrendous piece of faeces as 'When Girls Get Together', or Bruce Johnston's adult contemporary anthem 'Endless Harmony'... ewww, yyuck. Did Brian really write the lyrics to any of these songs? Did he do that while in a completely comatose condition, with Mr Love trailing his hand over a piece of paper? Whatever. I just have to assume that neither of the Wilsons really cared about the band's future or reputation at that point, and Johnston and Love never gave a hoot in the first place. Did they really think that somebody might actually go out and, like you know, invest his or her hard-earned cash in this tripe? It was absolutely unfit for those who loved well-written music, equally unsuitable for those who were after the contemporary fashionable sound, and just as unacceptable for those who were just hunting for some retro tunes like 'She's Got Rhythm' or something. Only the most desperate diehard Beach Boys fan could, or can, find any interest in a record like this. Predictably, it was a dead flop, and mercifully put the Beach Boys' further experience on a halt... for five years.

[TMinthePM]

Did I say something about "funny" at the top of this thread? Boy, how memory had failed me. Just when you'd think they'd hit rock n roll bottom...the once brilliant demi-gods would taste of the bitterest dregs before a kind of release/redemption/resurrection came.

The Greeks had said

                                                   "It is not given that man might look upon the gods and live."

                                                                                       and

                                                    "Those whom they gods would destroy they first made mad"



THE BEACH BOYS

Year Of Release: 1985
Record rating = 5
Overall rating = 8

The last gap of decency - cut through the production and that's dem Beach Boys, for sure!
 Best song: GETCHA BACK

Track listing: 1) Getcha Back; 2) It's Gettin' Late; 3) Crack At Your Love; 4) Maybe I Don't Know; 5) She Believes In Love; 6) California Calling; 7) Passing Friend; I'm So Lonely; 9) Where I Belong; 10) I Do Love You; 11) It's Just A Matter Of Time; 12) Male Ego.

Now you may not believe me when I tell it, but hey, it's a good Beach Boys album. Take some time, listen to this, understand this: it's 1985, for God's sake, and it's a good Beach Boys album. Not just a huge step up from the atrocity of Keepin' The Summer Alive; more than that, an album full of songs that really demonstrate that during these five years the Beach Boys weren't idle; they were busy. Unfortunately, some of them were busy with drowning (R.I.P., Dennis - you are sorely missed on the album!), but most had better things to care about.

Why then such a low rating? I don't know. I almost wanted to give it a 6, but then I understood that'd make it on par with M.I.U. and L.A. and I couldn't quite do that. See, the songwriting is pretty decent. The harmonies are back - the harmonies on this album are excellent. Everything else sucks. Steve Levine comes onboard to contribute some trademark Eighties' production, and everything is awash in stupid bleep-bloopin' synths, electronically enhanced drums and generic horn parts. I don't know who contributes the guitar solos in 'Maybe I Don't Know', but whoever it is, I'd easily have him throttled. I just hope it wasn't a guitar great like Gary Moore or somebody like that - immaculate technique, blandest and most generic effect ever. Blah.

In other words, had they been able to teleport, like, twenty years back and perform all these songs in another epoch, the rating would fly away to heaven. As such, no cigar. But don't worry; the main thing to understand is that you must give the album two or three listens before pronouncing judgement. It was a horrible, totally undistinguishable mess at first, but then the sun appeared and the birds started singing, if I might use a particularly juvenile and unbearably cliched metaphor. Carl Wilson, Brian Wilson, and Mike Love, all three of them, write good melodies. I don't even loathe the traditionally loathed Bruce Johnston contribution, 'She Believes In Love Again' - sure it's mid-tempo hookless adult contemporary, but it's hardly as hookless as you'd want me to believe. The way Bruce sings 'she believes in love again, she believes in me', is definitely a cutely placed vocal hook. Hah! I gotcha!

The funny thing is that somebody had the boys throw on two covers, and they're the worst of the lot. Boy George's 'Passing Friend' drags on for five minutes which is at least four minutes too much - I can't stand that monotonous synth-based crawl. And none other than Stevie Wonder embarrasses himself with a 'Isn't She Lovely'-wannabe song called, er, 'I Do Love You'. Stevie himself guests on the song, contributing harmonica, but that's small consolation. Pathetic, particularly considering that Stevie actually wasn't in such a critical state at the time... guess he was just kind enough to leave the scraps to the Beach Boys, thinking they'd never be able to make a good album anyway. Man was he wrong.

Because the other songs all qualify, that is, when stripped of their rotten synthy carcasses. Mike Love contributes the anthemic irresistable single 'Getcha Back', spoiled by electronic drums and a rather strange way of vocal-mixing, but restored to life with the coolest of Brian's falsetto deliveries and a vocal melody that's definitely in the 'nostalgic' category, but what would you expect from these guys? Hair metal? Mike also works with Brian on the closing 'Male Ego', a funny pop rocker that closes the record on an endearing note (instead of sappy dreck like 'Endless Harmony').

Meanwhile, Brian himself teams up with his therapist Gene Landy and writes strange tunes like 'I'm So Lonely', where he sings about being so lonely but the song's cheerful mood doesn't actually support the idea... well, at least Brian writes some thought-provoking songs. Nice song. 'It's Just A Matter Of Time' is a bit too... monotonous? plodding? pick your favourite thesaurus entry?.. but its moody, harmony-drenched atmosphere is something the Beach Boys hadn't been able to produce for quite a long time now.

Carl also is at the top of his game, with the gorgeous singing on 'Where I Belong' and 'It's Gettin' Late' - the latter is a particularly great song, perfect in its romantic, lush mood, but also butchered through idiotic production. In fact, the only Beach Boy-penned songs on here that don't quite suit my good ratings criteria are the corny 'Crack At Your Love' (sometimes cheesy synths and stupid drumbeats ARE enough to completely spoil a song, particularly if the song isn't breathtaking by itself) and 'California Calling', which is just WAY too nostalgic, even borrowing the harmony tricks from 'Help Me Rhonda'. The first loses through ugliness, the second loses through brutal commercialism. Is it enough to spoil the album? Hardly.

I'm still torn over the exact numeric equivalent of this record, but hey, whatever. Numbers are numbers. They're cold and they want to be absolute, and an album's rating is always relative. I suppose you get the picture, anyway: good, if unspectacular, songs, seriously ruined by cheap glossy production. This makes the reissue of Keepin' The Summer Alive and this album as a 2-fer CD at least somewhat sensible. Too bad the guys couldn't hold on for too long or completely regain their senses: had they gotten rid of the goshdarn producer and gathered their forces for a second round, the fans could have rejoiced.


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BRIAN WILSON
(released by: BRIAN WILSON)

Year Of Release: 1988
Overall rating = 12

What is this, "Smile Vol. 2" with a drum machine? Never mind, we'll take it unwrapped.
 Best song: LOVE AND MERCY

Track listing: 1) Love And Mercy; 2) Walkin' The Line; 3) Melt Away; 4) Baby Let Your Hair Grow Long; 5) Little Children; 6) One For The Boys; 7) There's So Many; Night Time; 9) Let It Shine; 10) Meet Me In My Dreams Tonight; 11) Rio Grande.

Take my word for it: had this album been written and recorded in, say, 1967, today it would be hailed as the greatest pop album of all time. Or in the top ten at least. Of course, it yet may happen that it will be regarded as such ten years from now - once the seemingly irrepairable harm to our conscience caused by glossy Eighties production has eroded away after a while. But that is, er, not for me to decide.

It definitely is for me to decide, though, that Brian's first officially released solo album is the best Beach Boy-related piece of product to ever come out of the Eighties and the best Beach Boy-related piece of product since at least Love You. It was released not too soon either - right at the time when Mike Love took complete control of the "Beach Boys" moniker and started pestering the market with loads of schlocky garbage and ridiculous re-recordings and 'Kokomo' and what-not that did not have even a whiff of Brian Wilson inside. Thus, if you're in your right mind, you will just close your eyes on everything that came after the band's self-titled 1985 album and switch on to Brian's solo recordings instead.

This one consists entirely of Brian's own, brand new (well, in the sense of "earlier unavailable" - I do not know exactly when each of these was written) creations, with lots of lyrical assistance from ol' time pal and therapist Eugene Landy; please disregard everybody's bombarding of the guy's trivial, occasionally obnoxious lyrics, because lyrics were never a big asset of the Boys anyway. What matters here is not the triteness of the message, because Brian had always been trying to send out one and the same message (the power of love) and you just gotta take it or leave it. What matters is that the songs are good. And not just good - these are really inspired, really heartfelt, and thoroughly unpredictable - in the technical sense - compositions. In short, 1988 finds Brian Wilson in exactly the same - and I stress exactly the same - creative health as, say, 1966.

And maybe even better, because there's a stunning diversity to his approach here that is totally lacking on Pet Sounds - in fact, could have been thoroughly visible on Smile had it come to officially blessed fruition. Downbeat, upbeat, balladry, pop-rock, and even a multi-part variegated nine-minute suite to top the record: here you have yourself a man who has rediscovered the joy of working on his own music, and, being free from the constraints of his pals and, apparently, of the record company, has rediscovered the joy of total creative freedom. Last time he did this, he ended up with Love You; this time, the stage is set for an even bigger triumph because he's not so much of a disjointed drug-addicted wreck as he was in the mid-Seventies.

Unfortunately, he still manages to blow it. One thing Love You has on this stuff is that it was not overproduced. You could complain about the synths and lament the absence of string quartets and lush orchestration, but at least you could not complain about permanent ear damage. Here, Brian and Landy manage to f*** up the overall sound by gruesome overproduction - even if, paradoxically, the final result still sounds as if they were recording everything in Brian's basement. Loud crashing electronic drums dominate everything, and even worse are the squealing hi-tech synths layered one onto another as if they were all separate instruments in an orchestra. Boy does that ever suck. I can't even say it sounds just like all those other overproduced Eighties records, simply because of the uniqueness of the recording process. But the final result is a confusing sonic mess, making an album where only a couple songs were supposed to sound like an Eighties' upgrade of Phil Spector's wall-of-sound into an album where every song sounds like an Eighties' upgrade of Phil Spector's wall-of-sound.

I do not wish to overrate this defect: it is this ridiculous overproduction that took most of the steam out of those who were already raising their pens to start praising the album (Brian is back again! As ingenious as he ever was!). People expected... well, you know what people always expect out of somebody like Brian Wilson, and they didn't get it, and they were disappointed, and they went ahead and trashed the record, or at least, switched to the "well, it could have been so much better" mode. I think it's unfair. After all, production is production. Take it away and you have wonderously strong melodic "skeletons" that just had the misfortune to be dressed in wrinkled and shabby arrangement "skins".

Every single song is a gem when taken on its own. 'Love And Mercy' is the perfect uplifting opener, probably consciously reminding you of 'Wouldn't It Be Nice?' due to the unexpected "soft" mid-section in between the catchy pop-rock verse/chorus sections. 'Little Children' and 'Meet Me In My Dreams Tonight' gallop along at a speed you wouldn't think Brian was capable of (not too speedy, but speedy enough to make you realize the man was not limited to 'dreammode' all the time). The near-accappella harmony showcase 'One For The Boys' is flawed due to Brian's age-and-erosion-induced vocal limitations, but he can still think of a hell of a vocal arrangement anyway. 'Baby Let Your Hair Grow Long' shows he can still out-Phil Mr Spector with a wave of his hand (for some reason, that moment when he launches into 'in my mind, I can see', making the transition from melancholic verse to epic chorus as if he were just putting on a raincoat or something, brings tears to my eyes every time). And the 'Rio Grande' suite, starting like a "cowboy" kind of epic indeed, ends up incorporating more separate creative ideas than Mike Love ever had in all of his lifetime.
Yeah, you could probably complain about separate melodic moments like the chorus of 'Nighttime' (a bit tacky in a grating, typically Eighties way), but hey, it's really no worse than the best hits of the Cars or Duran Duran anyway. There's some indication here that Brian hadn't been totally blind to Eighties pop; maybe it would be better if he had been, but still things could be much worse, couldn't they?

Also, make sure to get hold of the "deluxe" edition of the CD if you can, which reasonably pumps it up to twice the original length - featuring several new songs like the totally synth-rockin' blast of 'Let's Go To Heaven In My Car' (kicks tremendous ass in all of its cheesiness, and with a great guitar solo to boot!), another upbeat "marching" tune appropriately called 'He Couldn't Get His Poor Body To Move' (apparently taken from the Sweet Insanity sessions?), and a fun kiddy ditty that could have fit in fine on Smiley Smile ('Too Much Sugar'). Plus, lotsa demos and comments from Brian in person. Woohoo! All in all, a CD not to be missed. Stay away only if you have such an alergy to electronic drums that you seriously think a song with electronic drums can have no soul.

[TMinthePM]

THE BEACH BOYS: STILL CRUISIN' (1989)

1) Still Cruisin'; 2) Somewhere Near Japan; 3) Island Girl; 4) In My Car; 5) Kokomo; 6) Wipe Out; 7) Make It Big; I Get Around; 9) Wouldn't It Be Nice; 10) California Girls.

This and the next album were the only ones not to be re-released on CD during the recent major Beach Boy reissue campaign — which is quite telling, all by itself; even Mike Love, deep down in his soul, must be embarrassed about these records, provided he is an organic human being and not a side effect of the evolution process. Still, there they are — no matter how much I'd like to get in my car and wipe out this abomination somewhere near Japan.

That said, let us not put all the blame on the shoulders of one person. First, this record would probably never have seen the light of day if it wasn't for 'Kokomo', an unlucky collaboration between Mike, Terry Melcher, and two aging hippie veterans (Scott McKenzie of 'If You're Going To San Francisco' fame, and John Phillips of the Mamas & Papas) that had the misfortune to go all the way to No. 1 and become the Beach Boys' first mega-hit since 'Good Vibrations' last struck gold twenty-three years back.

The odd thing about 'Kokomo' is that, with its relaxed sunshine-happy atmosphere, cheap Caribbean flavor, and hedonistic implications, it really belonged somewhere in the mid-Seventies rather than in 1988-89, with dance pop and hair metal as the leading fads. But, on the other hand, there is always a place for bikini-clad beauties in the human heart, an association towards which 'Kokomo' is targeted first and foremost, music and lyrics and all, and as for Mike Love pushing fifty, well, «dirty old men» were all the rage in 1989 (Steven Tyler! well, he wasn't that old in 1989, but still a bit overreaching for his age when it came to p*ssy-chasing).

Anyway, 'Kokomo' has some nice vocal lines ("that's where we wanna go" is Carl's finest bit of high-pitched delivery on the entire record), but the general aura of the song is downright humiliating — in the good old days, we were ready to accept that atmosphere when it was dominated by Brian Wilson catching heavenly melodic moves right out of the sky, but there is nothing about the melody of 'Kokomo' to remind of Heaven, and that's not even mentioning slick Eighties production (at least it isn't synth-driven, but the electronic drums combined with echo-laden vocals give it a completely plastic face all the same).

Worst of all, 'Kokomo' was the final nail in the coffin — as it started climbing up the charts, boosted by inclusion in a thirty-third-rate Tom Cruise movie (HOT!), Mike must have become fully convinced that this overproduced sunshine-nostalgic crap was exactly that the public wanted to hear from the Beach Boys, and the entire album was built around that attitude. Brian couldn't care less: in contrast to Beach Boys, his involvement here was minimal — he contributed but one song ('In My Car', an upbeat pop-rocker consciously written to emulate the 'I Get Around' spirit, but killed off by inadequate lyrics, dreadful overproduction, and, let's face it, a none-too-overwhelming melody), and sang on a couple others.

Curiously, Carl seemed disinterested as well, since he is completely missing from the songwriters, only contributing lead and backup vocals on other people's tunes. Bruce Johnston was also minimally involved, writing but one tune ('Somewhere Near Japan', another of his pedestrian romantic odes, but at least its romanticism does not seem as utterly forced as all the other emotions on this record, making the song a relative highlight). Al makes his sole mark with the dreadful 'Island Girl', an attempt to stake his own claim to Caribbean territory that sounds dumber and cornier than a dozen 'Kokomos' rolled together. And as for Dennis, well, he'd rather drown than be in any way associated with a record like that.

Further atrocities include (1) the title track, stupid enough to paraphrase Paul Simon ("still cruisin' after all these years"), ask a girl, on Mike Love's behalf, to "hop on my hot rod", er, "in", I mean, and dress it all in an arrangement on which big booming electronic drums are just about the only discernible instrument; (2) 'Wipe Out', a song that used to be a delightful surf classic by the Surfaris, and is here rearranged as an embarrassing «rap-rock» collaboration between the band and The Fat Boys (unfortunately, Brian also bears part of the responsibility); and (3) in full accordance with the «terrible food, and such small portions» logic, the band did not even scrape together enough new material to fill up respectable space — so they had to include three golden oldies at the end, under the pretext of their having been used in recent movie soundtracks.

That last decision was actually a benchmark in stupidity. Just in case if, having listened to the seven originals, someone would still be left thinking whether they are «soft sh*t» or «real hard sh*t» — here is a nice comparison base for you. Would you rather hear 'I Get Around' or 'In My Car'? 'Wouldn't It Be Nice' or 'Somewhere Near Japan'? 'California Girls' or 'Kokomo'? And now you, the listener, do not even have to choose — here they are in the same package. Unfortunately, time has not been kind to it — still awful after all these years; much as I'd like to go against the grain and promote, say, 'Make It Big' as a forgotten mini-masterpiece, I'd have to strip myself of all credentials to do that.


--------------------------------------------------------

THE BEACH BOYS: SUMMER IN PARADISE (1992)

1) Hot Fun In The Summertime; 2) Surfin'; 3) Summer Of Love; 4) Island Fever; 5) Still Surfin'; 6) Slow Summer Dancin' (One Summer Night); 7) Strange Things Happen; Remember (Walking In The Sand); 9) Lahaina Aloha; 10) Under The Boardwalk; 11) Summer In Paradise; 12) Forever.

Since this album, like its predecessor, is now out of print, and even the few surviving copies are going on Ebay for suspiciously low cash figures, it is clear that even Mike Love, not to mention the few other surviving Beach Boys, would prefer to forget about it like one forgets about a particularly nasty bad dream (to each his own). But history is history: in the digital age, it no longer forgets anything. Besides, the fifty years of penance required for a crime like this are far from over — so take it like a man, Mr. Love.

The most awful realization one can make about Summer In Paradise is that — yes, I know it is very hard to believe, but here goes: The Beach Boys (at this point, consisting of Mike, Carl, and Bruce) were not consciously trying to make the worst pop album ever recorded. On the contrary, they were trying to make an album that would garner commercial success by combining healthy nostalgia, modern production values, and a soulful punch. Had this been intended as a corny self-parody, we would all just laugh and go home.

Granted, time has healed the wounds, and what, in 1992, could only seem the utmost horror to all purveyors of good taste, now comes across as a bizarre curiosity — and by now I mean «when Baywatch is no longer the regular benchmark for trash culture». But it is still worth one and only one listen, exclusively for educational purposes. For starters, the album was almost entirely computer-generated (Pro Tools!), with all the rhythm sections pre-programmed. The only Beach Boy to actually play an instrument on these tracks was Bruce Johnston. The only Beach Boy to actually write songs on this album was Mike Love, and even then he mostly supplied lyrics to Terry Melcher's «compositions». The only other Beach Boy to take an active part whatsoever was Carl Wilson, taking lead vocals on a couple tracks, overseeing the vocal harmony recording process, and adding pathetic «credibility» to the product as a «Beach Boys» creation.

As for the album's general purpose, one look at the tracklist is quite sufficient to understand what was going on. Unfortunately, the titles alone do not let one see the true scope of disaster. To do that, arm yourself with forgiveness and listen to the new «re-recording» of 'Surfing', replete with crashing electronic percussion and muscular Def Leppard-influenced RIFFAGE: a new look for surf-rock, targeted at the recent generation of morons, which, fortunately, was far less huge than could be expected (alas, a whoppin' 10,000 people still bought this record back in the day, heedless of everything). If you need more, a couple blocks down the line comes 'Still Surfing', a nostalgic toss-off that steals vocal harmony lines from several genuine Beach Boys classics and tries to make them serve the idea that nothing much has changed in thirty years. No dice.

Amazing, unbelievably effective lowlights on the album include 'Summer Of Love', on which Mike is impersonating a cocky beach-goer with a little rap chant (the most offensive thing about it is, of course, not the «sexism» of the lyrics, as critics frequently complain, but the utter fakeness of the sexism — at least a guy like Steven Tyler, with all his flaws, still knew how to invite a lady to his «love vacation» in 1992 sounding like he really means it); the title track, which begins like a corny nostalgia trip and then quickly, and for no apparent cause, transforms into an even cornier eco-anthem; and the «reinvention» of 'Remember (Walkin' In The Sand)', which genuinely should rank among the top three or so worst covers ever attempted by anybody — the idea of doing the kind of deed they did to the word "remember" could only come from a mind so perverted that I wouldn't trust the person in question with a baseball, let alone a baseball bat.

As for the not-so-impressive tracks, they are simply forgettable — boring adult contemporary crap, for the most part. The fact that this whole thing was recorded in 1992, at least one year after the grunge revolution, in an age when the long-burgeoning underground scene was finally coming out to meet the masses, just shows how utterly, thoroughly clueless the «Beach Boys» were about the musical scene of the time, judging it exclusively by MTV standards. But that's only half of the crime — then comes the pathetic part, because even by those standards they could not come up with a glossy enough, convincing enough, commercial enough piece of product. What more can be said about an album that hypocritically ends with a cover of Dennis Wilson's 'Forever' — with the lead vocals given to John fuckin' Stamos, the star of Full House? If that ain't reason enough for Dennis to stage a vengeful comeback from the grave, nothing is, and the dead will stay in the ground until the end of time — coincidentally, just like Summer In Paradise. The only consolation is that at least Brian had nothing whatsoever to do with this senseless self-humiliation. Thumbs down — all the way right to the toes this time.

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THE BEACH BOYS: STARS AND STRIPES, VOL. 1 (1996)

1) Don't Worry Baby; 2) Little Deuce Coupe; 3) 409; 4) Long Tall Texan; 5) I Get Around; 6) Be True To Your School; 7) Fun, Fun, Fun; Help Me Rhonda; 9) The Warmth Of The Sun; 10) Sloop John B.; 11) I Can Hear Music; 12) Caroline, No.

All I can say is that, in «desert island» mode, Stars And Stripes would be a more tolerable choice than Summer In Paradise. Which does not mean that the entirety of this album does not spell out «M-I-S-E-R-Y» at the rate of two songs per each letter of the word. Listed as a «Beach Boys» album; featuring all five Beach Boys – including Brian! – on vocal harmonies; but consisting exclusively of Nashville musicians playing and Nashville singers singing on old Beach Boy covers — the idea was rotten from the start, and the lack of intelligent execution fails to compensate for the rot in any imaginable way.

These are not even properly done «country» rearrangements: at best, it is all made to sound like «1990s country-pop», which was at least before the Taylor Swift era, but was already no more «authentic country» than John Mayer is «genuine blues». Everybody just seems to be playing for cash, with no interest whatsoever in anything else — learn the chords (and, since most of the covered songs are from the 1963-64 period, that certainly would not take too long), practice for half an hour, churn it out, and off you go. A pure instance of rigid professionalism that makes the idea of «art» almost ridiculously superfluous.

Much the same applies to the singers, almost none of which are either capable of reproducing the fun spirit of the originals or of supplying a new cool twist to the old stuff. The only exceptions are – big frickin' surprise – the two old-schoolers. Timothy B. Schmit, of Eagles/Poco/solo fame, does a good job of recreating the worried mood of 'Caroline, No' (which is, by the way, the only «serious» song on the entire album, and its being tacked onto the end, like a lame dog bonus track, clearly demonstrates that, at this point, Executive Producer Mike Love was still certain that the true Beach Boys expired thirty years ago upon disembarking from the yacht on the front sleeve of Summer Days). It adds nothing to the original, but it doesn't spoil it, which produces quite a nice psychological effect after the preceding eleven tracks.
Second, another old-schooler and everybody's favorite, Willie Nelson, unexpectedly pops out on 'The Warmth Of The Sun' — a song that normally commands a very complex vocal performance and a particularly sweet vocal tone. Of course, it could be expected that the old trickster would try and do something like that — deconstruct a vocal classic with a deliberately minimalistic performance. But, unfortunately, that is just the way it works: as an experimental deconstruction. It is odd and unusual to hear Nelson's sympathetic «non-singing» backed by angelic harmonies, but it certainly is not the right way a good Beach Boys cover can be done. (Come to think of it, I do not even know what is the right way — the Beach Boys defy personal interpretation, which is why we do not see too many respectable Beach Boy covers floating around, unlike the Beatles).

And, in any case, two decent/interesting performances out of twelve isn't exactly hot stuff — especially when, in order to get through to them, one has to suffer the humiliation of Toby Keith singing about being true to your school; of 'Help Me, Rhonda' rearranged as a fast-tempo sh*t-rock number; of grown-up people rather than fresh kids still wallowing in the cheap silliness of 'Long Tall Texan'; of Lorrie Morgan going through 'Don't Worry Baby' with all the passion of a young idealistic mom giving it her all at the local school benefit show, etc. etc.

Predictably, the planned Stars And Stripes Vol. 2 never came to pass (although some material was actually recorded, like a not-half bad Tammy Winette take on 'In My Room'), and the original record went out of print fairly soon — and with it, any incentive on the part of the «Beach Boys» to record any new material, particularly since, soon afterwards, the rift between Brian and Mike Love became permanent, and because Carl passed away in 1998: although Mike and Bruce still shamefully continued touring as «Beach Boys», it is one thing to please nostalgic crowds with shaky-hand renditions of 'Surfin' USA', and quite another one to record new material under the same name (not that, in between the two of them, they had any).

Thumbs down without a question (sorry, Willie), both to this album and its funny permutation that occasionally circulates around in bootleg form — one with all the lead vocal tracks wiped out and amusing liner notes that explain that, since this is probably the last ever Beach Boys album to bear that name on it, one must have the right to hear it as a Beach Boys album, focusing on authentic Beach Boy harmonies, rather than a trashy country star tribute record with the band guesting on its own album. Now that, in 2012, a reunion is finally expected, the excuse may no longer be an excuse, and then the last ever reason for even remembering that someone ever had such a fit of bad taste will dissipate forever.

[TMinthePM]

IMAGINATION
(released by: BRIAN WILSON)

Year Of Release: 1998
Overall rating = 11

Good songs, but somehow I feel a lack of conviction. Hey, whaddaya know, I used to badmouth Pet Sounds, too! Crucify me!
 Best song: YOUR IMAGINATION

Track listing: 1) Your Imagination; 2) She Says She Needs Me; 3) South American; 4) Where Has Love Been; 5) Keep An Eye On Summer; 6) Dream Angel; 7) Cry; Lay Down Burden; 9) Let Him Run Wild; 10) Sunshine; 11) Happy Days.

This one - another relatively short album - is probably the best place to start with solo Brian Wilson, and is usually hailed as a particular peak for him (although almost just as often it gets panned by scepticists as a particular low; go figure). But, I dunno, it sounds a bit normal to my ears. Discounting the unreleased Sweet Insanity, we can trace something unusual and quirky in all of Brian's releases: the self-titled record marked a surprisingly ravenous desire to combine modern, but homebrewed, technologies with a lust for recapturing the old magic vibe of "love and mercy"; I Just Wasn't Made For These Times marked an equally ravenous desire to showcase the 'forgotten' sides of Brian; and Orange Crate Art was an attempt to do something complex and twisted in a world of simplistic, ever-simplyfing pop values.
Imagination marks... nothing. It's just a collection of newly written songs and re-recorded oldies, none of them bad and some of them extremely inspiring, but I just don't feel it does Brian's genius any justice. Perhaps part of the problem is the flat, generic Nineties' production, which may be less overtly "tasteless" than the production on Brian Wilson, but at the same time is much less 'curious' in nature. Just a standard pop environment, heavy on the synths and what I call 'instrumental fakery'; not nauseating, but sucking out a lot of life from the actual songs. But then again, I've never been a production freak - no, I think the biggest problem is a lack of commitment. When you listen to a song like 'Love And Mercy', you get it. To hell with the awful production: it's a powerful, if lyrically naive, statement, a true musical prayer from the depths of one's heart, right on the Pet Sounds and whichever else level. And even the lesser songs on that album, the ones that were all poppy and upbeat, used to shine with force and energy. Imagination, in sheer contrast, is a relaxed, slightly loose album with few highs that make you go "wow, I'd kill for this song".

Like the title track (or, to be precise, 'Your Imagination'), which is very good - my pick for the best number on the album - but maybe it's because it lacks these breathtaking "rising up up up up" chord sequences Brian is famous for that it just feels smooth and even and, well, nice, but unspectacular, and ultimately forgettable on a larger scale of things. I dunno, maybe it would even have been better if he'd recorded it in a particularly quiet, Friends-like setting, because Brian is so good at "extremes"; "moderation" (note that I'm saying "moderation", not "mediocrity"!) suits him much less. Same thing with the ballads - 'She Says She Needs Me' is very pretty, but I wouldn't go as far as to call it 'beautiful', even considering the fact that Brian manages to pull out some of his trademark falsetto on that one; while 'Where Has Love Been' is downright unmemorable. No surprise, then, that 'Cry', with its very untypical, almost Clapton-like lead guitar wailing through the entire song, almost gives the impression of quintessential adult contemporary saved by vocal harmonies alone.

Not that I'm in any shitty mood today to be lambasting the record: I enjoy it pretty much, thank you. All of the songs I've complained about are really nice to listen to, and all of them display Brian's talents of melody-writing for sure. It's not like you can't distinguish this from mediocre adult contemporary. Mediocre adult contemporary does not mean writing utterly stupid, utterly infectious pop songs like 'South American', ones that show everybody how much Brian Wilson actually cares about his lyrics (i.e. not giving one sh*t) and how much he cares that the song stick in your head and you go through your house like crazy humming 'gimme that gimme that South American girl' even if you hate their guts in real life. Nor does mediocre adult contemporary suppose the re-recording of such gems as 'Keep An Eye On Summer' and 'Let Him Run Wild' - utterly needless re-recordings if you ask me, but hey, that's Brian Wilson and his songs, he's got the lawful right to re-record them as many times as he wishes. I gotta admit that the "soon we'll be graduating" line does sound a bit cooky when coming from a half-decrepit fifty-plus-year-old, doesn't it? Unless you gotta understand "graduating" as a metaphor for "leaving this earth", of course, which would give the song a whole new religious meaning.

Don't overlook 'Happy Days', either, another take on the "trademark multi-part Wilsuite", with a moody jazzy beginning and an upbeat poppy ending. Even here, though, when Brian sings 'oh my gosh, happy days are here again... goodbye blues, happy days are here again', there's no real happiness in the tune - maybe deliberately, to make the listener realise that happiness is but a mere illusion, or maybe because Brian just wasn't in the mood to create a real happy song.

All the same, what with the album flowing too smooth and too predictable, it is perhaps better for it to be that way, if only for Brian's own sake. Imagination gives the impression of a tormented soul finally settling down into a tired and peace-seeking old man's body ('Lay Down Burden' indeed - easily the album's most sincere-sounding ballad because that's what it is all about!), of a man finally at peace with himself, not striving for much yet able to give out something good. And hey, we all deserve a little peace and quiet some day. So while I'd never agree that it's the best Brian Wilson solo album to be found, it's definitely the most stable Brian Wilson album out there, if you know what I mean. So - stably recommended.


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LIVE AT THE ROXY THEATRE
(released by: BRIAN WILSON)

Year Of Release: 2000
Overall rating = 11

Well at least he's still alive, the old guy!
 Best song: they're all good, and many of them are best.

Track listing: CD I: 1) Little Girl Intro; 2) The Little Girl I Once Knew; 3) This Whole World; 4) Don't Worry Baby; 5) Kiss Me Baby; 6) Do It Again; 7) California Girls; I Get Around; 9) Back Home; 10) In My Room; 11) Surfer Girl; 12) The First Time; 13) This Isn't Love; 14) Add Some Music To Your Day; 15) Please Let Me Wonder;
CD II: 1) Band Intro; 2) Brian Wilson; 3) 'Til I Die; 4) Darlin'; 5) Let's Go Away For Awhile; 6) Pet Sounds; 7) God Only Knows; Lay Down Burden; 9) Be My Baby; 10) Good Vibrations; 11) Caroline No; 12) All Summer Long; 13) Love & Mercy; 14) Sloop John B; 15) Barbara Ann; 16) Interview With Brian Wilson.

Brian Wilson doesn't give out many shows, and the ones he does give out are quite small - this one has an audience of about five hundred people or so. Well, luckily Brian doesn't need the moolah these days - and I suppose he gets his fill out of the endless profanizations of Beach Boys songs in commercials - so he doesn't need to drag himself out on to huge stadiums as support act for Linkin' Park, heh heh. Neither does he have to accompany Mike Love and his "Beach Boys" on their shows (which might be quite good for all I know; hey, Mike Love is a jackass and we all know he's not exactly hot about singing 'Surf's Up' or 'Cool Cool Water' onstage, but he still sings some good stuff, doesn't he? You can't spoil a good song unless you really want to, and Mr Love doesn't want to, now does he?), so he's quite free to do what he wants when he wants.

So what do we expect of a decrepit old ruin onstage? I'll tell you what to expect. If you want to expect energy, maybe Mike Love's the better bet for you. Most of the time Brian sounds as if he's having two bodyguards propping him from both sides. (He did look pretty much the same way when I recently saw him directing 'Good Vibrations' at the Queen's jubilee). The jokes he keeps trying to crack are so unbearably "senile" you can't but feel pity for the man. But on the other hand, energy is not the only thing that matters - and since Brian mostly concentrates on the softer numbers, it's not a big problem. The thing that matters is the obvious happiness and "soul comfort" that Brian displays when he's singing this stuff. He really sings what he wants, those songs that matter more to him than anything else, and he doesn't even need to concentrate to put all of himself into these songs because he's there already. Add to this an extremely professional and respectable band that seems to be perfectly happy to do whatever Brian requires of them (including excellent harmonies that often match the original Beach Boys harmonies note-for-note); the absolute lack of overproduction or "slickness", since it's a live performance; and the hardcore audience's lively response to even the most obscure stuff, and you get easily one of the most honest and heartfelt albums in the history of Brian Wilson, both Beach Boy and solo artist.

Another asset is how good the man actually is at his material. Decrepit, mayhaps, senile, most probably, but he never - I repeat never once - gets off key, not even in the most difficult moments, plus he's managed to recover a lot of his long-lost falsetto (man, the things a healthy sterile life will do to ya). Of course, since he does lead vocals on all the tunes, there will be cases when you're gonna miss Carl a lot, or even Mike Love, but I assure you you'll get used to it. Sure Carl did the passionate delivery on 'Darlin' better, but Brian matches all the notes and intonations perfectly, just with a little less force and power.

As for the track listing, you can see that the album very much looks like an expanded I Just Wasn't Made For These Times Live; which is quite natural, because, like I said, it's mainly ol' time favourites. I'd never have thought Brian cares so much for 'Do It Again' - always thought it was more like up Mike's alley, with the retro surfin' mood and all, but looks like Brian really digs the song, or maybe he just thinks it's the only "surfin' oldie" that is lyrically structured as an intentional nostalgic hymn and thus can be performed without any significant embarrassment. Well, he's right then.

Things of special notice, which may get you more interested (or less interested, but will hardly leave you cold) in the album. There are a couple rarities/first-time-onlys that you'll have trouble finding elsewhere (the so-so ballad 'The First Time'). There's a one-minute snippet of Brian and the band doing the Barenaked Ladies' song 'Brian Wilson'. There's space enough to showcase the band's skills when Brian makes them recreate the two instrumental numbers from Pet Sounds, which they do quite professionally; unfortunately, the professionalism is still sort of lost on the possibly-never-to-be-done-perfectly-on-stage 'Good Vibrations'. There's Brian doing Phil Spector's 'Be My Baby', claiming that it's his favourite recording of all time. There's Brian dedicating 'Lay Down Burden' to the memory of the late Carl Wilson. There's a great version of 'Love And Mercy' closing the show, mainly just Brian and his piano and nothing else. And the 2CD edition that I have adds a couple bonus tracks ('Sloop John B' and 'Barbara Ann'), plus an interview with Brian where he mostly talks about how good his band is. Oh, there's also some really nice stage banter, except for moments when Brian is doing these stupid jokes about cigarette lighters (which he himself admits are stupid - strange he doesn't add 'lost my head for a moment there') and when he says '...we're gonna do a couple numbers unplugged, then maybe we'll come back and ROCK OUT or something' [intoned in a way that lets you understand that if there's one thing in the world Brian Wilson doesn't quite understand, it's the essence of "rocking out", but never mind].
As far as I understand, the album was originally only available through mail order or something, but what with all the special Japanese imports and stuff, I guess you can find it relatively easy if you're a fan - and if you can, grab it. No Brian Wilson album is not worth having.


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SMILE
(released by: BRIAN WILSON)

Year Of Release: 2004
Overall rating = 12

Apparently, God's will was for this thing to be released thirty-eight years after its conception.
 Best song: yeah, like you can really pick out from a symphony.

Track listing: 1) Our Prayer/Gee; 2) Heroes And Villains; 3) Roll Plymouth Rock; 4) Barnyard; 5) Old Master Painter/You Are My Sunshine; 6) Cabin Essence; 7) Wonderful; Song For Children; 9) Child Is Father Of The Man; 10) Surf's Up; 11) I'm In Great Shape/I Wanna Be Around/Workshop; 12) Vega-Tables; 13) On A Holiday; 14) Wind Chimes; 15) Mrs O'Leary's Cow; 16) In Blue Hawaii; 17) Good Vibrations.

I is firstly devoicing a sloshwobbering discomplaint, to get this fizzledobbling piece of problem out of the way. The vocals. Everything on here sounds like it is being sung by a sixty-year old grandfather - which it actually is - and there is no way in hell this music is fit (by default, I mean) for sixty-year old grandfathers, nor is it fit to be sung from the perspective of one. Yes, Brian does give it his best, never missing a note and stretching his range as far as it can go at this time in his life, but still, this thing deserves younger, fresher vocalists, like Brian himself and his late brother Carl used to be thirty years ago. This is why I nicked the experience a point. (Actually, to be more precise, I nicked it a point after listening to this version of 'Surf's Up' and the 1971-released track back to back).

Now, to business. Some might call it a bad omen, to return to a long-forgotten dream and give it one more try after nearly four decades, but bad omens work for young people, not for sixty-year olds. Once you have finally found peace with yourself and your surroundings, you will return to work reinforced - maybe your mind will benefit a little more from the passing of time than your youthful burnin' heart, but then again isn't music as much formula as it is emotion? And in Brian's case, the situation was much easier because all of the emotion associated with the Smile project had already been put to proper use by 1967 - there it is, residing inside the melodies of 'Cabin Essence', 'Surf's Up', and 'Good Vibrations'. What he lacked in 1967 was mindpower - a strong determination to put all the pieces together in the correct order and push the 'cook for ten minutes' button. Not to mention, of course, all the drug taking, which can work wonders for creativity for all I know, but has so far never helped anybody boost up the will, if you know what I mean. Today, being old, cleaned up, and wisened up, he can allow himself this luxury.

As far as I know, the rejuvenated Smile does not coincide with any of the multiple available boots; actually, cannot coincide, because some of the material has been reworked, and certainly the ideal structure could only be guessed at previously. The suite is now consisting of three separate movements (clearly defined by pauses; everything in between segues into each other without any breaks, sort of like the Abbey Road mini-suite, which this stuff could predate if it had come out when it was supposed to come out, but it hadn't, so it didn't); each movement has one "grand" centerpiece - 'Heroes And Villains', 'Surf's Up', 'Good Vibrations' - and lots of tiny, or medium length, songs, ditties, and snippets making up the Big One's entourage. The actual titles do not matter that much, because motives and themes keep recurring in a quite pattern-free manner; sometimes more noticeable, sometimes less (occasionally the background vocals will hum to you the melody of the song that has just finished while a new one is already playing in the foreground), in the end they will force you to accept this stuff as a unity rather than a collection of isolated segments.
Even if, come to think of it, at heart this really is a collection of isolated segments, and, just, like the Abbey Road suite, these segments aren't all that important or make much sense when analysed in details. Pictures of blissful farm life; admiration of a child's beauty; sunny Hawaiian references; the joys of surfing; and similar stuff, filtered through Van Dyke Parks' word-generating brain computer. The 'teenage symphony to God' description would much better fit Pet Sounds; that was a 'teenage symphony' indeed, a set of half-spiritual, half-sexual confessions that could only come from a naive, inexperienced teenage mind indeed; Smile is more like a cross between a 'teenage serenade to sunshine' and a 'teenage musical haiku', wrapping up brief emotional outbursts in a cloak of warmth and happiness. Such a peaceful album indeed. Maybe that's why it failed then and succeeded now - because in 1967, Brian simply wasn't ready for a "peaceful" album. (He sort of would be for 1968's
Friends, but that was a different kind of peace, "calm on tranquilizers" rather than anything else).

On a formal level, the three 'movements' are indeed assigned unifying tags: the first one is supposed to be 'Americana', the second one deals with growth and going through stages of life, the third one deals with the five elements. In other words, this is so late Sixties - Tommy, eat your heart out. Please forget I just mentioned it to you (the only reason is fear of being dubbed an ignorappopotamus in the reader comments section) and let's move on to the actual material. Praise must be given where it is due: everything has been recorded so meticulously authentic that the only thing that gives away the finished product's non-authenticity is that the production is simply too good to reflect the values of 1967 to which it pledges its faith nominally. The keyboards, the drums, the vocal harmonies, all of it sounds like the Seventies, Eighties, and Nineties never happened, except that the sound engineers actually learned to pick the fluff out of between the tracks. There's no question of replacing real string instruments with their synthesized analogs, however effective this may be today; and even if Brian's vocals aren't really all they should be, I'm glad no-one had any crazy ideas about tampering with them electronically like they do with Cher or something like that. When it comes to passages where he isn't capable of pulling out a particularly high note (as on the heavenly 'columnated ruins domino!' conclusion in the first part of 'Surf's Up'), they just bring in somebody else to 'catch up' his line and finish it - very smoothly done, by the way, and only really noticeable when you compare it to the 1971 version, on which Carl apparently did not require anybody else's help... but hey, I did promise to let bygones be bygones.

The two major pieces, 'Heroes And Villains' and 'Good Vibrations', have both been slightly extended, and the lyrics to the latter almost completely changed - however, as far as I understand, this actually reflects the original vision; the lyrics to 'Good Vibrations' were re-written by Mike Love (who was supposedly disgusted with lines like 'she's already working on my brain', probably fearing that the song might eventually be mistaken for a drug ode - hey, he might have had a point there, you know!), and the "additional" segments were chopped off in order to make the songs' length more reasonable for single release. I can't say I'm really happy with the 'Good Vibrations' bit, though - I've always thought that the unexpected fade-out of the 'gotta keep those lovin' good vibrations a-happenin' with her' line and the gorgeous beauty of that thin harp line was the best thing about the song, whereas here attention is drawn away from the harp to the extra vocals. Others will find it a minor quibble, though. On the other hand, the new orchestrated coda to 'Heroes And Villains' is probably the best of the added moments on the album, so it kind of adds up.
Other "biggies" that were already officially available in more or less completed form - 'Surf's Up', 'Cabin Essence' - do not improve much on the early versions. But the big news is that many of the songs that the average listener only knew before in 'perverted' Smiley Smile versions ('Wonderful', 'Wind Chimes', 'Vegetables') have been shaped up, trimmed, given a stylish haircut, and occasionally revealed as the glorious melodic masterpieces they were supposed to be, especially 'Wind Chimes' - how the heck could I have missed the beauty of that one? So it is a little strange how the introspective, semi-romantic semi-melancholic melody suddenly turns into a pompous instrumental 'Heroes And Villains'-style surf march, but that's the coolness of Smile where you can never predict where you're gonna find yourself the next minute even after several listens. 'Vegetables' (here renamed 'Vega-Tables' for no reason but lack of reason) somehow also manages to mature to song level from cool idea level, even if I seriously doubt that's Paul McCartney again chewing on vegetables out there. (Wouldn't it have been super duper cool to have him again, though?).
We also finally get to hear the 'Mrs O'Leary's Fire' part of the 'Elements' suite, the one that legend claims to have been originally recorded by an orchestra in the studio with a real fire-in-the-bucket going on so that the musicians could 'feel smoke' - and then hidden away by Brian in superstitious fear when he'd learned that a nearby building had actually burnt down that night. (Funny thing, the track is called 'Mrs O'Leary's Cow' on here - apparently, some of the old fears must still be haunting Brian even today). And it is really fabulous, a brilliant recreation of the fiery tumult, chaos, and confusion, although not so much in a frightening as rather in an exciting way, if you get me.

It wouldn't be right to focus on every melody or every new twist captured on here - there's too many of them, which, of course, guarantees repeated listens and new discoveries all the time. Not everything works, but for every poor idea, there's at least two or three good or brilliant ones, which, in the end, makes Brian's vocals the only systematic (but completely understandable and forgivable) complaint. If there really is something to feel sad about, it's the realisation that in the year 2004, nobody except a small bunch of hipsters and a large, but gradually fading crowd of nostalgia goers, is really giving a damn about one of pop music's most grandiose projects finally seeing the official light of day. Albums like Sgt Pepper or Tommy (or, indeed, Pet Sounds), which had the luck to be completed and released in their due time, have firmly entered the popular conscience and are now the pop music equivalents of Homer and Shakespeare, unshaken and unmoved by any sort of venomous critique one might want to throw at them. Smile, on the other hand, has, at best, entered the popular conscience as a famous failure, and I'm pretty sure that, no matter how big the promotion campaign was, there are still lots of Sixties' music fans around who don't have the least idea that the project has finally been realised, especially if they're not living anywhere near big civilization centers like NYC.

In other words, with such a belated timing, Smile is running a serious risk of merely making a bright flash on the horizon and disappearing back into the can. This certainly calls for a big philosophic discussion on how tightly the artistic value of something is tied up with its chronological settings - but I'd rather finish this review on an optimistic note, considering how the music on the album actually begs us to do so, and say just this: if finishing Smile actually helped Brian to finally exorcise his demons once and for all, and make his life happier and more complete, there could have hardly been a better goal overall, and this alone fully justifies the existence of this package.

[TMinthePM]

THE BEACH BOYS: THE SMILE SESSIONS (2011)

CD I: 1) Our Prayer; 2) Gee; 3) Heroes And Villains; 4) Do You Like Worms (Roll Plymouth Rock); 5) I'm In Great Shape; 6) Barnyard; 7) My Only Sunshine; Cabin Essence; 9) Wonderful; 10) Look (Song For Children); 11) Child Is Father Of The Man; 12) Surf's Up; 13) I Wanna Be Around / Workshop; 14) Vega-Tables; 15) Holidays; 16) Wind Chimes; 17) The Elements: Fire (Mrs. O'Leary's Cow); 18) Love To Say Dada; 19) Good Vibrations; 20) You're Welcome; 21) Heroes And Villains (stereo mix); 22) Heroes And Villains Sections (stereo mix); 23) Vega-Tables Demo; 24) He Gives Speeches; 25) Smile Backing Vocals Montage; 26) Surf's Up (1967 solo version); 27) Psycodelic Sounds: Brian Falls Into A Piano; 28) Capitol SMiLE Promo;

CD II: 1) Our Prayer "Dialog"; 2) Heroes And Villains: Part 1; 3) Heroes And Villains: Part 2; 4) Heroes And Villains: Children Were Raised; 5) Heroes And Villains: Prelude To Fade; 6) My Only Sunshine; 7) Cabin Essence; Surf's Up: 1st Movement; 9) Surf's Up: Piano Demo; 10) Vega-Tables: Fade; 11) The Elements: Fire Session; 12) Cool, Cool Water (version 2); 13) Good Vibrations Session Highlights; 14) Psycodelic Sounds: Brian Falls Into A Microphone.

Sooner or later, this was bound to happen. After several years of «teasingly» slapping re-recorded and re-arranged shards and slices on incoherent LPs, somewhere in between Carl Wilson's soft rock ballads and Mike Love's pseudo-experimental oddities; after several decades of heavy reckless bootlegging, filling a Beach Boy fan's life with sense and emptying a Capitol executive's pocket of moolah; after Brian Wilson's brave and critically respected 2004 attempt to resurrect and materialize the original concept in its entirety, unfortunately, marred by the hoarseness and senility of his vocals, as well as the lack of original Beach Boy harmonies for pleasant authenticity; in brief, after more than fourty years of this strange fantom life lived by the original SMiLe, here we are — finally presented, under an official seal of approval and in shiny optimistic packaging, with what we should have been presented with in 1967. Back when it actually mattered, that is.

We are supposed to understand, however, that the nineteen tracks on the first CD of this archival release are not the «real» SMiLe. The «real» SMiLe, throughout 1966 and early 1967, was well organised within Brian's head, but not within any particular set of tapes. Brian's 2004 version is actually closer to «reality», although it should also be obvious that, over thirty seven years, that «reality» could not help but become slightly altered. Still, do we really care all that much? At the bottom of it, both the 2004 version and this «reconstruction» are fine additions to our catalog, and neither of the two could be explicitly called «disjointed», «messy», or «lacking artistic vision». For all I know, these fourty-eight minutes of music are SMiLe — that planned conceptual follow-up to Pet Sounds, that «teenage symphony to God» that Brian had announced before falling victim to his own unbridled ambitiousness and inability to adapt it to the actual surroundings. Smiley Smile, in comparison, was not SMiLe — not even close. This one, regardless of any deficiencies that Beach Boy historians and Brian Wilson's spiritual twins may detect, could just as well be SMiLe. Why the hell not?

From a «basic acquaintance» point of view, even if you have never heard any bootlegs and are a strictly «official release» kind of person, there will not be any major new-song surprises here if you already know Smiley Smile, the Beach Boys' entire catalog of 1967-1971, the anthological archive releases, and, of course, Brian's 2004 reconstruction. What matters is the coherence of it all: from the very fact that yes, a reconstruction from the original tapes is possible, to the joy of discovering the original, fully inspired recordings, and multiplied by the lovingly executed remastering — each single vocal part here, in particular, sounds clearer, cleaner, closer to home than could ever be achieved in the old days. (One way to relive your Sixties experience anew).

So — always the tempting question — could the album, as it is now presented, be the supposed equivalent of Sgt. Pepper? Clearly, it would have been less accessible. There is simply too much going on here: with most of the songs consisting of several parts, plus additional instrumental links tying them together, the kaleidoscopic ambitiousness would have been too much for most people — at times, it seems as if Brian were competing not so much with Lennon/McCartney as he was with Frank Zappa (Absolutely Free is comparable in terms of the sheer number of unpredictable leaps and twists, even if it leans far closer towards the avantgarde side of things and, thus, could not hope for commercial success at all). Sgt. Pepper cleverly knew where to stop; SMiLe knows no limits, which is why it will always be adored much more by eccentric «poetic souls» and relentless musical omnivores than «normal people».

On the other hand, SMiLe does correct what I have always thought of as the biggest mistake of Pet Sounds — it is much more dynamic, with the melancholic, introspective mood, slow tempos, and gentle musical flow replaced by head-spinning psychedelia, turbulence, and jarring stops-and-starts a-plenty. It is not «rock» at all (the electric guitar barely registers at all as an instrument among all the carnivalesque trappings), but it is energetic for much of its duration, and, sometimes, even becomes aggressive (ʽMrs. O'Leary's Cowʼ, Brian's musical equivalent of a raging fire destroying everything in its path). Ever yawned at the languidness of Pet Sounds? Once or twice, at least? SMiLe gives you no time for yawning: open your mouth and something attention-drawing will happen before you close it.

But it is no coincidence that ʽGood Vibrationsʼ became the only SMiLe song to enter each and every household — it is the Beach Boys' equivalent of ʽAll You Need Is Loveʼ: behind all of its fabulous complexity lies a very simple, very basic, and very easily understandable message. Musically, it belongs fully to Brian's «mature» period, but spirit-wise, it is like a perfect link between the early fun-in-the-sun days and the later transition into the realm of strangeness and charm. Beyond ʽGood Vibrationsʼ lies the strange and charming, too strange and charming, perhaps, for the average musical listener to swallow. Personally, I think that the people at large would not be ready for SMiLe in 1967, just as they are not all that ready for it now.

Which should not prevent critics, fans, and musical omnivores, of course, from holding their ground — SMiLe is, indeed, one of the finest achievements of pop music in the XXth century, and now we have the near-perfect package to prove it without having to do all that extra work for ourselves. In the long run, it is a more rewarding listening experience than Sgt. Pepper: the payoff is smaller at first, with all the different links and overdubs and stops and starts and reprises and modulations and special effects dazzling and confusing the listener, but larger on subsequent listens, when all the flourishes start sinking in and you start to realize how well they all belong together. It does not have its own ʽDay In The Lifeʼ — a sort of ultimate, mind-blowing, cathartic peak with a cleverly engineered mix of comic and tragic overtones that forces you to realize how small you are in relation to the universe — although the magnificent ʽSurf's Upʼ comes close, its solemnly mannered baroque flow, ungrammatical lyrics (I still think that Van Dyke Parks was one of the weakest links in the chain), and intentional coldness still stir up a very different kind of emotions. But apart from that, it still reflects a grand vision, dressed up in some of the most inventive clothes ever designed by a pop musician.

Regarding the package, I have only heard the «standard» 2-CD version, which includes about twenty extra tracks from the sessions, all of which are well worth listening to — SMiLe was such a fascinating project that even the demos and interrupted studio takes are exciting on their own, as you watch these songs unfurl before your eyes. Even the eight minute-long «montage» of accapella backing vocals for the project is jaw-dropping — these are, after all, some of the most unusual and non-trivial harmonies the band had ever designed, and some of them do get lost in the background when you are listening to the completed takes. Heck, even the «silly bits» — such as the little staged comic-absurdist scene in which ʽBrian Falls Into A Pianoʼ are charmingly hilarious this time. Why couldn't they think of something like that in the times of ʽBull Session With Big Daddyʼ?...

There is, however, an enlarged 5-CD boxset version as well, with a whole disc given over to the story of the development of ʽHeroes And Villainsʼ and another one given over to ʽGood Vibrationsʼ. For me, this is technical overkill, but I am fairly sure all of that is worth listening to at least once — if only to understand how much time, work, energy, and spirit had been invested in these creations. If you can afford the big boxset, by all means, do so: even a self-proclaimed hater of SMiLe could be objectively convinced, I believe, that this is one of the few albums that does merit a whole boxset of such length all to itself. Thumbs up to all of the versions out there — and especially to the amazing fact that, now that the enigma has finally disclosed itself as fully as possible, it has not become the tiniest bit less enigmatic than it was before.


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THE BEACH BOYS: THAT'S WHY GOD MADE THE RADIO (2012)

1) Think About The Days; 2) That's Why God Made The Radio; 3) Isn't It Time; 4) Spring Vacation; 5) The Private Life Of Bill And Sue; 6) Shelter; 7) Daybreak Over The Ocean; Beaches In Mind; 9) Strange World; 10) From There To Back Again; 11) Pacific Coast Highway; 12) Summer's Gone.

I do not know why this album was made. I do know that the word «money» explicitly showed up in some of Brian's interviews, and, although I am not sure that Brian was exactly starving in the early 2010s, he is one of the few people in the world who actually deserves all the money he can get, so that would be one reasonable reason. Another reasonable reason would be the fact that the «band» was still in need of a bona fide swan song, after all: with Mike trampling the Beach Boys brand in the dust throughout the 1990s, the biographic curve had a maddeningly pathetic form.

Thus, once Brian and Mike temporarily settled their problems and got all the remaining Beach Boys they could lay their hands on together (Al, Bruce, and somebody even dug up «oldboy» David Marks to strum the guitar; 1962 all over again!), they wisely agreed on the following work pattern: the album would be mostly sunny, happy, and nostalgic, just the way Mike would like it to be, but Brian would otherwise be given complete freedom in the writing, throwing in teenage-symphonic compositions à la ʽSurf's Upʼ if he will. Considering that Brian's solo activity in the 2000s showed him as almost completely «cured», busier with his musical projects than anytime since the 1960s, this pattern simply could not fail. Or could it?

The critical world invented a brilliantly polite tag for the final product: «their best since 1977's Love You». Given that very few people would even remember Love You itself, much less anything that came later, the tag sounds impressive — wow, thirty-five years past their last artistic success and still going strong! But take the time to relisten to all these albums: honestly, beating all of them put together in one punch is no feat of heroism. The question should be put differently: have The Beach Grandpappies actually managed, this time, to put out an album that would make sense to people outside the small circle of hardcore fanatics?

As one select representative of these people, I'd very much like to say yes, but the more I listen to it, the more I'm forced to say no. That's Why God Made The Radio is by no means an «awful» album in the spirit of the Brianless garbage of the 1990s, and it manages — most of the time — to avoid being «cheesy» in the spirit of the band's late 1970s / early 1980s products. But it is an empty shell of an album, Beach Boys-ish to the core in form only, never in spirit. In fact, I'd say that it doesn't even have any spirit, Beach Boys or otherwise.

In comparison, I try to remember how amazed I was at hearing Paul McCartney's Chaos And Creation several years ago. There it was, a record by an aged, out-of-time dinosaur that made crystal clear sense: slow, pensive, atmospheric, still carrying traces of melodic genius but also reflecting a shift of values, moods, attitudes so totally in line with both the modern world and the artist's own age. Not a proverbial «masterpiece», not anything to be remembered by on an order of first importance, just an album that quietly stated, «yes, my creator is old and gray, and that gives him a special edge that he is willing to take advantage of». Similar impressions can also be received from some (far from all) of Brian's solo work — even the re-recording of SMiLE, one could say, carried some whiffs of this «wisened old man» attitude.

That's Why God Made The Radio has none of that. It sounds as if the only question the band put to itself was, «can we just make one more ʽDo It Againʼ type of album?» (As a promo move, they did re-record ʽDo It Againʼ, but it is not included on the final LP). To be more precise, «can we still work out those harmonies? can we avoid synthesizers and electronic dance beats? can we still come up with credible lyrics on Californian topics?» etc. And — yes, for dessert: "can we still make a proverbially beautiful multi-part epic suite like we did in the old days, when Mike didn't like epic suites and we still didn't give a damn?»

The title track, released as a taster several months prior to the complete thing, epitomizes its essence quite faithfully. After a few listens... maybe even after a single listen, you can memorize the chorus and forgetfully toe-tap along with its lazy, shuffly rhythms. But from the first to the last note, it feels utterly fake. Or, perhaps, «fake» is not the right word — what is truly awful is that it might feel like a sincere outburst of emotion to Brian himself. Can you imagine the Beatles, had they all remained alive, finally reuniting... with every single Paul song written in the spirit of ʽP.S. I Love Youʼ and every John song written in the spirit of ʽLittle Childʼ?

At least if there had been new tricks, new solutions, new discoveries. No dice. Every single chord, every single harmony seems to have a direct ancestor in one Beach Boys classic or another. Sometimes in several at once: ʽShelterʼ is the most glaring example, where the chorus ("I'll give you shelter from the storm...") is the offspring of ʽDon't Worry Babyʼ while the backing harmonies are mostly variations on ʽBreak Awayʼ. I do not doubt for a second that Brian is still capable of inventing new textures, but for this album — it's like he didn't even try. Instead, he reprogrammed his brain computer-wise, activated all the old melodies, shuffled them around, and gave out a credible «Beach Boys™» record. Give musicologists, biologists, and programmers another fifty years, and you might not even need a Brian Wilson to receive another album of this caliber.

We cannot even blame Mike Love this time. For the most part, he wisely stays away from the writing process, although you can always be sure that if you encounter a particularly cringeworthy lyric, you know who to blame. "Singing our songs is enough reason / Harmony boys is what we believe in" from ʽSpring Vacationʼ (the most overtly awful song on the entire album — few things in life are more disgusting than forcefully faking happiness) is bad enough, but "we got beaches in mind, man it's been too much time" is a close contender (unless you start singing "we got bitches in mind", which immediately gives the whole thing a fresh new angle). He is also responsible for ʽDaybreak Over The Oceanʼ, which seems to be a crude vivisection of ʽBluebirds Over The Mountainʼ with a transplant from ʽMy Bonnieʼ or something else like that.

Most of the rest is honestly credited to Brian and producer Joe Thomas, who had been a close associate of Brian's since the recording of Imagination more than a decade earlier. And from all of this «rest», critical attention, for obvious reasons, has preferred to focus on the last three songs, which finally dispense with all the phoney summer happiness and give us pianos, flutes, strings, kind melancholia, and solemn vibrations. Does this make me happy? No. I don't like the idea of Brian sitting down at the piano and telling himself, «okay, concentrate, focus, God, make me capable of writing another ʽSurf's Upʼ here and now» — and for all of these nine minutes, I cannot get rid of the idea. And again, all I hear is faint echoes and shadows of past greatness.

To sum up, if this is really why God made the radio, it's totally awesome how God made me stay away from the radio for most of my life. If this album really replenished Brian's, or even Mike's, pockets in a time of need, I am fine with that. If it was made just so that the official Beach Boys discography did not end with Stars And Stripes, I am so totally fine with that, too. But in the general context of the Beach Boys history, this is not a good record, I'm afraid to say. In fact, it is a bad record, I'm afraid to say — a nostalgic trip that feels forced and stuffy, as if you've just successfully taken a time machine back to 1967, but cannot open the doors. In fact, I'm not even sure I really agree that «this is their best since Love You»: even L.A., in those parts of it that weren't totally wretched, sounded more natural.

The only reason I'm chickening out on giving it a thumbs down is that such a decision would look like some sort of «gesture» — as if I wanted to «punish» the band for committing some sort of sacrilege, or was intentionally going «against the grain» (since most of the official reviews were uniformly positive). After all, they are all just big (and, as of now, senile) children, and at least by now they have learned their lesson: don't pay too much attention to big wicked grown-ups coming at you with «modern musical values». Better some sheer, unadulterated nostalgia, than ʽSummer Of Loveʼ. And any nine-minute epic written and recorded by Brian Wilson will always respect the Beach Boys' textbook definition of beauty. The album sounds great — like an immaculately produced facsimile. It feels phoney. But sounds, as we know, are waves that penetrate us all in the same way, and feelings — who knows, yours might be better than mine.

P.S. And I'd like also to explicitly mention that I do not buy the «well, what more would you expect from these guys in 2012?» argument at all. One of the «real» Beach Boys' biggest advantages in the past was the ability to surprise — after the failure of Smiley Smile, they could come up with a winner like Wild Honey, and after the glitzy cheese of 15 Big Ones they could rebound with the raw bizarredom of Love You. Like I said, I could totally see Brian taking charge and leading the band in yet another direction. Instead, they gave us this fucking paper house. Nosiree, we had the rightful right to expect more, and got much less.

[bluesno1fann]

I believe George also did a review on Pacific Ocean Blue as well... where he said that Dennis was so deserving of his death 

Mark Prindle is another entertaining reviewer, and even when I can't fully agree with some of his reviews I still quite enjoy it:

http://www.markprindle.com/beachboys.htm

[Andrew G. Doe]

Congratulations, OP - you've just guaranteed I'll never read another post of yours. Links would have been sufficient. This is the very epitome of pointless overkill.

[TMinthePM]

Oh my...I'll toss and turn all thru the night...get lost!

[bgas]

.

[The LEGENDARY OSD]

Oh my...I'll toss and turn all thru the night...get lost!

If only he would...DLTBGYD! Thoroughly enjoying reading these reviews and glad you're not losing sleep. What he spews is extremely unimportant.

[Lee Marshall]

  Not sure who "OP" is...or what it means otherwise...but...it's been so darned quiet and a wee bit yawnish here of late.  So anything meaningful...or at least plentiful...with meat on the bone so that there's something the chew on...is good isn't it?

That's a whole bunch of reading there.  Not something to accomplish in one sitting.  The guy's 'facts' are kind of more opinion than reality so far.  He obviously isn't a card carrying member of Mike's 'fan club' so that will incur the wrath of some and the whole-hearted endorsement of others.

Ol' Starotsin there sure has a whole heap of opinions to spread across the width and breadth of the 'boys' body of work.  Research or varification of some of his 'takes' seems to have been an option left for future consideration...maybe.

So...I will endeavor to read more of this new 'look' at the audio library of The Sand-Pail Sailors.  I fear though, based on what I've read SO FAR that I might ultimately learn more by reading this instead... http://smileysmile.net/board/index.php/board,4.0.html

No?

[bgas]

  OP=========   Original Poster

[Joel Goldenberg]

Re: The Love You review. Dennis sings lead on Mona.

[TMinthePM]

I apologize to all here for the grumpy response. Was under the influence of a Korean drink called Soju, which I picked up in the local Su Gua here in Nanjing last night. Is colorless and practically tasteless, but sneaks up with a wallop.

Anyway, if you note the date of my original posting it's like almost two years ago and I had nothing to do with its resurfacing yesterday. That said, I'm kind of glad it did because I've been reading some better than average posting of late - thanks to GF and AS - enjoy good writing, sometime do some writing myself, and sometimes even produce some stuff worth reading.

I thought then, and think now, that this guy Starotsin is a hoot! Don't have to agree or even like him.

And, if the Pope doesn't care to read my posts - well, I'll just get me to a nunnery.