COSMICBEN’S RECORD REVIEWS
Se Habla Mandarin Chinese
The Beach Boys
I love these guys, and they're one of the few groups I'm actually semi-qualified to ramble about, because for most of my life, they were my favorite band. What kid didn't groove to "Help Me Rhonda" and "California Girls" for the first twelve years of his or her life? Well, I suppose kids that weren't raised in the squeaky-clean, middle class environment that I was, but you get my point. Sadly, though, when people get older, they start thinking "eww, the Beach Boys, that's wussy-ass pop music"....well, yeah! Damn good wussy-ass pop music, though. And they rocked on occasion. Their for-tay, through, was brilliantly crafted pop songs, courtesy of resident genius Brian Wilson, who crafted complex music full of innovative instrumentation and breathtaking harmonies that still wow me to this day. Mike Love, the group's lead singer, brought things down a notch with slighty-less-than-deep lyrics, but if you're sittin' out in the sun sipping on orange juice in your Ray-Bans, or even planted in front of a computer writing obnoxious record reviews, the lyrics are actually a lot of fun. Adding to the mix were some lesser but not-to-be-counted-out family members and friends, such as Carl Wilson, who had a beautiful voice, Dennis Wilson, the party boy who showed some talent and then died, and Al Jardine, who is my favorite Beach Boy for some reason or another. Maybe because he's the dumbass everyguy in the group who kept things human. Of course, I've since found out that Mike Love's not exactly a member of Mensa himself, or that much of a likeable human being for that matter, but whatever, a favorite is a favorite.
I am well-versed in their early-to-mid sixties albums, and then my expertise trails off until the late eighties. Their genesis went like this: capable (if thin) surfin' band in the early sixties, romantic masters of the recording studio in the mid-to-late sixties, journeymen who turned out the occasional masterpiece in the seventies, and churners out of dreck since then.
I'd also like to add that the Beach Boys toured constantly until Carl Wilson's death in early 1998, and are now still touring, albeit in three different forms (don't ask, and beware of what you're getting if you purchase a ticket to a "Beach Boys" concert). They are usually accused of being a professional cover band/nostalgia act, to which I again say: well, yeah! I caught them twice while there was still a Wilson in the mix, and I was blown away each time by how much fun the concerts were.
The only Beach Boys records that are currently in print right now are the sixties albums, and they're pretty much rip-offs: a half-hour of music and no spiffy extras for an exorbitant amount of money. If you can, find Capitol's early-90's Two-fer series; each disc featured two full albums, bonus tracks, and great liner notes from David Leaf. They're out of print, but hiding in used CD bins if you look hard enough, or available new as Canadian imports if you have twenty bucks to spare. Capitol seems to be slowly reissuing every album, and lots of them promise to be worth the money. Keep an eye out, I guess.
The Boys are capable of being amazingly great and horribly bad, but most of their records are simply fun. Read on...
The Albums:
* * 1/2 Surfin Safari (1962)--Of all the CD's that got messed up in the Great Orange Juice Debacle of '99, this one got it the worst. I mean, the CD still plays fine, but now on the cover, David Marks is pointing to a large orange splotch. That really sucks, considering how anal I am about my liner notes. Anyway, this is a pretty thin album--as much as I hate to admit it, since, like most Beach Boys albums, it was mad crazy enjoyable when I was younger. Now, it just doesn't stand up to their later stuff, being padded out with lame covers and instrumentals (okay, one of those). However, I must confess...I love a lot of these songs. Nostalgia does crazy things, I guess. "Little Girl (You're My Miss America)" is sappy as all hell, but Dennis' aching vocal saves it, inexperience and all. And "Ten Little Indians" is stupid--but catchy as heck, and it's my favorite track on here. And I haven't even mentioned the "classics" (meaning the songs that are on 109 of the 120 greatest hits records floating around out there)--"Surfin' Safari" sounds a bit pedestrian compared to their later stuff, but the galloping beat makes for a very enjoyable listening experience. And "409" is almost as good, although not a favorite of mine. The rest of the songs range from merely catchy ("Heads You Win, Tails I Lose," "Chug-a-Lug," "Cuckoo Clock") to unlistenably bad ("County Fair," which was recycled into the much better "I Do," "Surfin'" their first single, "The Shift," described merely as 'a fashion statement from Mike and Brian' and half as entertaining as it sounds). Throughout, the Boys play their own instruments, which means pedestrian instrumental backing puctuated by some nice licks from Carl, and Mike isn't as nasal as usual, which makes the lead vocals surprisingly enjoyable. Worth picking up as a lark, just don't expect anything groundbreaking.
* 1/2 Little Deuce Coupe (1963)--Abysmal. The entire record is a cash-in on the hot rod craze of the early 60's, and the three hits ("Shut Down," "409," and the title track!) and the cheesy "Our Car Club" are recycled from earlier albums. The originals aren't much better either: most of them are paeans to cars that are so lifelessly harmonized and haphazardly arranged that they're almost pointless, and the end result bores me out of my mind every time--even the album version of "Be True To Your School" drones at about half the speed of the kickass single. The exceptions are few, if entirely worth hearing: "Spirit of America" is as lifeless as the rest of the songs, but is lifted by the beautiful melody and Brian's soaring falsetto, and "A Young Man Is Gone" is a breathtaking acapella eulogy for James Dean (even if the melody was taken from "Their Hearts Were Full Of Spring," a Bobby Troup song I've never heard). Other high points are few: the funny lyrics to "No-Go Showboat" ("When it comes to speed, man, I'm just out of luck/ I'm even shut down by the ice cream truck"), and the exciting "Custom Machine," which is so thematically similar to the crappy songs that it's hard to remember it's even on here. The rest of the songs are so boring that you'll actually yearn for Mike Love's vocals to pep things up; I'm actually a fan of his, but the album where he's the best-sounding Beach Boy is not an album you'll want in your collection.
* * * * Christmas Album (1964)--I'm sorry; I've gotten to the point where I can't even be mildly objective about the Beach Boys. They sing so nicely, their songs are so catchy...their music makes me happy when I'm sad, and that's all I really need from music in the first place. If they happen to do those things on a cash-in Christmas album, then I'll dock them a star and still call it fun. I like picking out the individual voices in the harmonies; I like breathing in the wonderful sounds; I even like looking at the picture of five clean-cut guys who just want to show me a good time. You could call the second half dreary -- and beautiful, especially on "We Three Kings Of Orient Are" -- but the first side is full of catchy seasonal classics, including "Little Saint Nick", "Santa's Beard", and the godlike "Merry Christmas, Baby". Of special note is Mike Love, whose crisp vocals and clever lyrics really lift the material. I give this album every benefit of every doubt, because the Beach Boys always make me feel like a happy kid -- just in case living at home again isn't doing the trick.
* * * * 1/2 All Summer Long (1964)--The quintessential Beach Boys album, packed to the gills with classics, and consisting of maybe two duffers ("Do You Remember," "Drive-In"), both of which are entertaining if you're in the right mindset. And after listening to the rest of these songs, how can you not be? In case you're not aware of the songs I'm speaking of, I'll describe them in order. "I Get Around" is grossly overplayed, being their first #1 hit, but imagine hearing the groundbreaking dynamics and acapella harmonies back in 1964--gotta have been pretty cool. "All Summer Long" is one of the greatest songs by anyone, ever, full of playful harmonies, a xylophone line (!), and simple but great imagery in the lyrics. "Hushabye" is regarded as their best cover, and probably is, although to me, it plods just a bit. No denying the heavenly harmonies, though, or the well-placed burp halfway through the song. "Little Honda" sounds thinner than most of the songs on here; it's a throwback to their kickin' earlier stuff, and makes up in drive what it lacks in intelligence. "We'll Run Away" features one of Brian's best early vocals and a nice melody, even if it veers into sappiness too much for my tastes. "Carl's Big Chance" is a nice (if insubstantial) stomping surf song featuring Carl soloing in front of some nameless session cats. Not the world's greatest guitarist, but still more instrumentally adept than the other Boys. "Wendy" is one of my favorite Beach Boys songs--the chord changes are stunning, the harmonies are incredibly powerful, and if you're not about to cry during the line "I thought/ we had our love down pat," maybe you should pull out some Celine Dion records instead. For the record, I *like* "Do You Remember"--maybe years of listening to it on Spirit of America have eroded its flaws from my perspective. Same goes for "Drive-In," although that one is slightly dumber. In between those two, you have "Girls On The Beach," pointed out by many as the best example of Brian Wilson's composing genius because he changes chords after practically every word. I guess the genius is that he kept it coherent enough that it becomes sort of a sequel to "Surfer Girl"--very enjoyable, even during Dennis' strained solo spot. Next is "Our Favorite Recording Sessions"--okay, I lied, this is the biggest duffer on the album; just some dumbass studio patter from the boys, and hard to listen to even once. But the album ends on a 1:43 piece of perfection: "Don't Back Down," an energetic surf rocker with exciting harmonies and stunning chord changes--it's one of the Beach Boys' shortest and most engaging songs. There, I've described every song on here. Hmm, maybe it's not as perfect as I'd thought, but still, you need about 3/4 of these songs in your collection, so pick it up.
* * * * * The Beach Boys Today (1965)--Beach Boys albums are hardly ever more than just collections of songs, some great, some laughable, which means I'm forced to quit waxing conceptually and focus on describing Brian Wilson's heavily-polarized triumphs and failures. And in my opinion, his batting average was never higher than on Today, drab cover and all: there are a few exceptions to the rule (pointless studio chatter on "Bull Session With Big Daddy," a preliminary version of "Help Me, Ronda" with a looser, less-direct arrangement that wastes the interesting variation on the chorus), but there are enough potential A-sides on here that only a frickin' commie could listen to the album without cracking a smile and shaking his rump a bit. Witness the exciting pop-rock (and unforuate lyrical stupidity) of the hook-filled "Good To My Baby" and the falsetto-ridden "Don't Hurt My Little Sister"; the blissful harpsichord-driven perfection of "When I Grow Up (To Be A Man)," with its wheezing harmonica line, inventive drumming, and inspiring lead and chorus vocals; and the quick, compact excitement of "Dance, Dance, Dance." And that's just side one. The whole thing mellows on side two, with some of the most breathtakingly beautiful ballads ever committed to vinyl: "Please Let Me Wonder," "I'm So Young" (a cover), "Kiss Me Baby," and "She Knows Me Too Well" all sport gripping dynamics, terrific group harmonies, and achingly lovely choruses, all complemented with full, engaging productions and deep bass vocals that anchor the songs on earth where we can all relate to them. Amazing. And Dennis bookends the whole thing with his exciting vocal on their cover of Bobby Freeman's "Do You Wanna Dance," and a tender, uncertain performance on the jazzy "In The Back of My Mind." Awesome. Try not to enjoy it! It won't work.
* * * 1/2 Summer Days (And Summer Nights!!) (1965)--Is the album half-full or half-empty? Your call. The two personalities of the album are best exemplified by "Amusement Parks, USA" and "Salt Lake City," two rockers with full production, phenomenal vocal hooks, and unforgiveably stupid lyrical sentiments. The other songs are more clear-cut: for the prosecution, there's a half-assed response to "The Boy From New York City" (yes, "The Girl From New York City"); a tepid Phil Spector cover (yes, "Then I Kissed Her"); an annoying piano rocker ("You're So Good To Me"); a sappy Hollywoodesque instrumental ("Summer Means New Love"); and "I'm Bugged At My Ol' Man," something you'll crack up at and probably never want to hear again. But there's also a calm, shimmering Beatles homage with Carl on convincing vocals ("Girl, Don't Tell Me"); there's pop perfection at its joyful, rocking best ("Help Me Rhonda," "California Girls"); there's a dense, dynamic-shifting rocker that may be the Beach Boys' most exciting "unknown" song ("Let Him Run Wild"); and the album ends on a beautiful acapella paean to summer that clocks in at a perfect 60 seconds ("And Your Dreams Come True"). Your call. But aren't you a little curious?
* * * 1/2 Party! (1965)--Man, this is cool. If you only like Pet Sounds, it'll sound dumb. But if you're a diehard like me, Party! is a fascinating look at the Beach Boys: they hilariously butcher old hits, give fun takes on their favorite Beatles and Dylan songs, and let out mindblowing group vocals that are all the better for not being studio-processed. "The Times They Are A-Changin'" and Spector's "There's No Other Like My Baby" are elevated with this treatment. It's frequently gorgeous despite the throwaway nature of it all, and aside from a few obnoxious novelty hits, it's all fun. They toss off "Mountain Of Love" with a swinging rhythm that's tons better than Johnny Rivers' version (for what that's worth), and Brian and Mike's solemn take on the Everly's "Devoted To You" is stirring, with a improvised falsetto coda that's a real hidden gem. Plus there's their kickass hit version of "Barbara Ann" that builds to a rousing album-only finale. It's not a real party -- the noises are dubbed in -- and there are enough references to Carl on guitar so as to virtually guarantee it's not really him. But if it's sleazy and unartistic in its presentation, there's a bare honesty in their performances that's fascinating and tons of fun to listen to.
* * * * Pet Sounds (1966)--Guess I had to get around to this one sometime... A little critical history: Brian Wilson's masterpiece, blah, unquestioningly accepted by *real* Beach Boys fans as the best album ever, blah blah, acknowledged by rock critics as one of the best ever, blah blah *blah*, and completely dismissed by pompous/interesting critic Dave Marsh as being nowhere near as cool as the humble surfing shit. Fuckin' blah. I admire Mark Prindle for taking a few slashes at the sacred cow, straddling the orchestrated fence and saying that not all of the songs lived up to the sound, which turns out to be quite true: maybe I'm just an uptempo kinda guy, but as impressive a creation as all these songs are, very few of them live up to the "Wendy"s and "When I Grow Up"s and hell, even the "Farmer's Daughter"s that I love so much. I mean, "I'm Waiting For The Day" sounds cool, but can you see it on a greatest hits record? It's practically the definition of "forced": not having much to say, but trying to say it anyway. "Here Today"? Cute. "Don't Talk (Put Your Head On My Shoulder)"? Too slow and self-consciously "beautiful." "Caroline, No"? It hits some pretty notes, but does nothing for me. For me, a Beach Boys orgasmic experience is "Country Air"--deceptively simple melody, ragged instrumentation, and harmonies that blow me away every time I hear them. Not the self-conscious greatness Brian was striving for on Pet Sounds; I mean, the instrumentals are impressive creations, but I can't figure out how the title track could hit anyone in the gut the way other Beach Boys songs do. I'm a diehard fan; why aren't I hearing what everyone else is hearing?
That said, some of this album is awesome. The first half of "Wouldn't It Be Nice" is some of the best pop ever written (I don't normally make these distinctions, but I realized that Brian really undersold the concept halfway through the song, allowing it to float around aimlessly rather than return to the magical chorus); "Sloop John B," usually considered the album's little runt, is for me the best song on the album, the closest I get to Beach Boys nirvana while Pet Sounds is playing, with amazing orchestration and even better harmonies; "You Still Believe In Me" is humble and breathtakingly beautiful; "I Know There's An Answer" is majestic; and "I Just Wasn't Made For These Times" backs up its pretentions with fantastic vocal arrangements and a great melody. Oh yeah, and I've always loved "That's Not Me" (even Mike Love's vocal!), and "God Only Knows" is really, really...nice. But that's it.
So was I bitching over nothing? I'd like to think not. I love the Beach Boys sound (even when half their songs admittedly suck), and this just isn't it. It's some other group, without a sense of fun or innocence or humility, and while I might love some of the songs this time, the sound , consistent as it is, does nothing for me. So when fans and critics act like Pet Sounds is what the Beach Boys were working up to their entire career and then never reached again, I can but cringe and slap All Summer Long or Wild Honey on my CD player. That's the Beach Boys for me.
Of course, none of this explains why I just dropped 15 bucks on the remastered stereo version. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Sure is pretty, though.
Your comments:
The One and Only George Starostin (gstarst@yahoo.com)
(5/19/00) I think you've sold the above-mentioned Pet Sounds a bit too short. Sure, this is NOT the Beach Boys, this is Brian Wilson, but there is nothing wrong with an album that's so beautiful, even if it's all so self-conscious. Remember that classical music always had a penchant for self-conscious beauty. Spontaneous beauty is definitely a greater thing than self-conscious one, but there's too few spontaneous beauty in this world to satisfy ourselves. And after all, beauty is only skin deep, isn't it? Please think about it.
(5/21/00) I, too, feel that the record is gruesomely overrated (you should have read my gushing anti-Pet Sounds comments on Prindle's Sgt Pepper review), but that doesn't prevent it from being 'moderately great' in its own way. I've been a bit offended, for instance, with what you wrote about 'Don't Talk', but for some reason, this song just strikes a bell somewhere deep in my soul. I don't really care if it's self-consciously beautiful or not. Maybe Brian WAS (surely he was) just sitting and trying painfully to squeeze out something 'beautiful', but for me, it's all the more amazing that a person could THINK of such a gorgeous vocal melody. I think that ballad is an absolutely unparalleled and unprecedented love declaration in music - it's like really putting God in there. But then again, it's just me. And yeah, 'Caroline No' and the instrumentals are kinda boring. Can't argue with you there. But that's why I only gave the record a 13, you know.
(Same day, new letter) About Pet Sounds again: I actually like 'Don't Talk' better than 'You Still Believe In Me'. There's one big difference: it's completely solo, with just Wilson singing. It's not that I have a problem with the Beach Boys' harmonies (they're beautiful), but for 'Pet Sounds', solo singing works much better, if only because it's very much an individualistic statement. I still hope it will break through to you some day. Maybe you need to be deeply in love to do that.
And may I just say: the Boys' contemporary single, "She's Not The Little Girl I Once Knew," is rollicking, emotional fun with a heartbreaking chorus that must have had Paul McCartney drooling in envy. "Split, man." Mike, you so crazy.
* * * * Wild Honey (1967)--The cover art is horrible, but don't let it fool you: this is a consistently enjoyable album, full of ragged, unbearably sincere songs that sound like they're gonna fall apart at any second. It's nothing like their earlier stuff, but still tons more enjoyable than Smiley Smile (or even Pet Sounds); they've ditched the acid-induced experimentation, and are just concentrating on getting back to their roots. The fun starts off with the title track, a fun rave-up spiced up with a crazy theremin line and wild, energetic singing from Carl. "Aren't You Glad" is almost as good, blending cool Mike vocals with passionate singing from Brian, all backed up by an insistent piano. Carl's cover of "I Was Made To Love Her" is more incoherent fun, with another super-soulful vocal, though I'm still not sure why they needed to cover the Stevie Wonder classic on here. The next track, however, is essential: "Country Air" is positively life-affirming, with deep, gorgeous group vocals, a dark piano line, and simple but direct lyrics that whisk me off to an grassy Southern field on a beautiful Spring day with the wind blowing in my face while I run around and "get a breath of that country air..." Enough faux-poetry--just trust me that the song is amazing and the best effort on here. Because of that, I hardly ever get to "A Thing Or Two;" a good thing, because it's a needless R&B number that's grating and doesn't really go anywhere. But "Darlin'" is tons better, a fantastic production with more sincere Carl vocals and a melody that's "just doggone outtasite," making it the second best song on here. Meanwhile, "I'd Love Just Once To See You" is a charming ditty that just features Brian and some great tempo changes; it's kind of lightweight, but check out the end, when he humorously reveals what he's really been singing about. They take another passable stab at R&B with "Here Comes The Night," featuring playful vocal arrangements that can't mask the thinness of the material, although "Let The Wind Blow" is slightly better, with upbeat, optimistic vocals that almost make for a complete song. It's still better than "How She Boogalooed It," which, despite featuring a catchy, maracca-filled groove, is as dumb as it sounds--it's telling that this is the first song that the Boys wrote without Brian's help. And the record ends on a weird note with "Mama Says" (not the Shirelles classic), where the group, sans instrumentation, admonishes us all to "eat a lot, sleep a lot, brush 'em like crazy" and then exits with a playful "poof!" Most of the record isn't that strange: it's just a charming effort, with even the worst songs featuring earnest vocals and sloppy, endearing playing by the Boys themselves. There aren't many high points, but if Pet Sounds was their Sgt. Pepper, this is their Please Please Me, playful and innocent and so enjoyable that it's by far my favorite Beach Boys album.
* * * 1/2 Live In London (1970)--Fun! Unlike those damn Americans, the awestruck British crowd lets you hear the Beach Boys, and the result is one heck of an enjoyable album. The instrumental backing is superb and complex (presumably because the band had nothing to do with it), and the group's enthusiasm shines through on every song--Carl, in particular, is phenomenal on his vocal spotlights. Al, Bruce, and Dennis are all inaudible individually, but they fill in nicely on the harmonies; and while Mike is a moron as usual, he seems to be partially in on the joke this time. In addition, the track selection includes obscure gems like "Aren't You Glad" and "Wake The World," showing that the Beach Boys hadn't turned into a travelling oldies show at this point. It's true that the awe-inspiring setlist is all thanks to Brian, but it's nice to see that his backing band can hack it without him. Did I mention that Mike is a moron? Ah, who cares, it's kind of fun. There are no revelations on this disc, but even non-fans won't regret spinning it when they're in the mood for the poppier things in life. Released in America in 1976 as Beach Boys '69 (don't ask, I didn't), the only place you can find it now is on imports of the Concert/Live In London two-fer. Buy it today and see how cool it was when the Wilsons were still alive; otherwise, watch out for the "Beach Boys," coming soon to a tractor pull near you!
Here's an experiment for you. Inspired in part by Tommy Joyce and also by a desire I've had since I started reading web criticism, I have decided to review the Beach Boys' Friends in the style of a few of my favorite reviewers. Please keep that in mind--these are not meant to be insults in any way, simply my attempt to have a good laugh and recreate the styles of some of the reviewers I admire most. If anyone's offended by this, which I hope they aren't, I'll take the necessary actions to tone down or remove the offensive review. As for my opinion on the album... I think it's amazing. It's my dad's favorite Beach Boys album, and it might even be mine, regardless of what I foolishly said about Wild Honey. The entire thing is a wonderful lullabye to their fans, and I never get tired of it. Easily * * * * 1/2.
DISCLAIMER: THESE ARE PARODIES! PRAISE, BLAME, AND GENERAL INDIFFERENCE SHOULD BE DIRECTED SOLELY AT THE AUTHOR, BENJAMIN HENRY (YES, HENRY) MARLIN, AND NOBODY ELSE.
Friends (1968)
***1/2 - Here, Brian tones things down a bit, with a handful of low-key arrangements and simple, undemanding lyrics. It's marred by some embarassing Mike Love creations ("Transcendental Meditation," "Anna Lee, The Healer"), but overall, the album is filled with charming songs and lush group harmonies, mostly missing from Wild Honey. The title track is a gorgeous waltz sung by Carl; "Wake The World" and "Be Here In The Morning" are about as unpretentious and endearing as 60's songwriting got; and overlooked brother Dennis chimes in with some touching, if primitive, ballads ("Little Bird," "Be Still"). There's nothing revelatory here, and it's all too short, but it should assure fans that Brian's talent was still intact after his Smile breakdown. (BM parodying JA)
*1/2 - I still don't get this band. I've always been baffled as to why Pet Sounds is so revered, but at least a few tracks on there had some daring arrangements and energy... Here, the band seems content to indulge in every soft-rock cliche they can think of, never once bothering to challenge the listener. The title track is interesting, and a few other melodies are nice, but I'm already falling asleep halfway through the first song, so it really doesn't matter. (BM parodying DBW)
FRIENDS
Year of Release: 1968
Record Rating = 7
Overall Rating = 10
That's a *high* 10, and there's some really pretty stuff on here, but nothing that really challenges too much.
Best Song: There are individual songs on here?!! ...oh, hmm, um, Friends
Gee, well, this is a nice one! After the truimph of Pet Sounds, the boys released some crazy albums that nobody noticed and I've never heard, so we won't be commenting on those here, now will we? But I have this, thanks to the wonders of the Russian bootleg market (praise those pirates!), and it's a really solid effort from Brian and company, full of pretty little melodies and catchy production tricks. No Pet Sounds, but what is? Not this! Instead, it's a very simple album, with simple songs and simple vocals, and well, hmm, you get the idea. Take the opener, for example: it's just Mike Love singing over a piano and an organ! And lots of do-do's in the end. And it's nice! Not profound or anything, just nice. Same with the title track: a pretty waltz with Carl singing lead and some nifty drumming by whatever studio hack they'd brought in, and it all works just magically. And the rest is the same! "Wake The World," "Be Here In The Morning," "When A Man Loves A Woman"...all nice and pretty and humble and well-sung, with cute little touches like tubas and skating-rink organs. And Dennis finally wrote a song! Actually, he wrote two! "Little Bird" is a charming (but undemanding--see the pattern here?) number about a bird, and "Be Still" just has him moaning over a light organ. All pretty. In fact, the only embarassments here are the feel-good nonsense Mike tended to indulge himself with (why, oh why, did Brian take it upon himself to let Mike write the lyrics? My God, they're horrible!)--"Transcendental Meditation" is the same crap that the Beatles got caught up in, but at least some good music came out of *their* Maharishi fiasco. And "Anna Lee, The Healer" is just plain awkward, although the harmonies are still nice. Plus, I'm not too in love with the surf-instrumental "Diamond Head," but at least it's interesting, and more advanced than some of their earlier surfin' stuff. But if you don't like that, there's Brian's gorgeous, wordless hymn "Passing By," which is just wonderful, and his cute little personality sketch "Busy Doin' Nothin," wherein he chats about how to remember a phone number and get to his house. Very homey. Very nice. And of course, nobody noticed--such is the record-buying public circa 1968. Maybe they'd rather hear Petula Clark?!?!
Busy doin' nothin? Mail me your ideas!
(Rich Bunnell reviews) Friends - Capitol 1968
@@@@@@@@@O
Easily their best since Pet Sounds. There's actual melodies here!!! Not just weird harmony snippets with sped-up vocals or laughter, but actual melodies!!! You know, the reason we like the Beach Boys in the first place!!! And some of this stuff is really, really good. "Friends"? An awesome waltz-like thingee with a great Carl lead vocal! "Wake The World"? It's awesome! Really uplifting and friendly, with great harmonies. I can't believe nobody liked this album in the 60's. THE FOOLS!!!!!!! Ahem. Excuse me. It's just that I really, really love this album.
There are tons more great songs: Dennis finally came into his own as a songwriter, and "Little Bird" and "Be Still" are just really pretty songs with simple arrangements. Just like the other stuff on here. It's not the 10 because, well, it's not Pet Sounds (but what is?!?!), and because of a few awkward songs towards the end (they sang about meditating? Isn't that supposed to be calm?? The song is annoying as hell!). But the thundering noises in the surf instrumental "Diamond Head"? How cool is that?! And "Passing By" has no words, but I love it. This is proof that Brian still had it going even when people stopped caring. And the other Beach Boys sound great, too--they're actually becoming a real band here. Highly reccomended, if you can find a copy--those bastards at Capitol make it almost impossible to find. Still, it's worth looking for.
Add your thoughts?
Reader Comments
aske@interport.net (Mark Prindle)
Criminy, this is pretty! Nothing that reaches out and grabs my ventricles and makes me want to dream about cruisin' aroun' or hangin' 15, but the melodies on here are top-notch. Oh, sure, Mike Love still sucks my left toe, but in the course of 12 mostly wonderful little ditties, it don't matter none. I could ask for a little variety, and maybe some decent lyrics (?!?!?!!!!!&), but overall, this is very, very not bad. A low 8, and spare the ketchup.
Once again, the above writings are parodies, and are not in any way associated with David Wilson, John Alroy, George Starostin, Rich Bunnell, or Mark Prindle. Yeesh. Now I see why lawyers were invented.
Comments on the parodies:
Ben Mann (buckmann@concentric.net) (5/20/00): I *loved* those reviews of _Friends_ by the Beach Boys! Can't imagine what someone would think if that person *wasn't* obsessed with other fan review sites, like I and, presumably, you are, but hey-- screw them! Let 'em use the web for pointless stuff like buying crap and linking together defense department communications in case of nuclear attacks against the country-- we know the web was really invented for posting album reviews. Of course, the second thought that enters my mind is that you must really be bored, 'cause I never get the urge to write a review of a mediocre album in the persona of five different people. So, subliminally, of course, beyond the initial impulse to compliment this bit of, uh, fab, stuff, I imagine I also sorta got the urge to mail you because I can imagine you probably need something better to do, or you'll end up . . . jeez, I dunno, occupied? Less bored? It's not my intent for that to be my intent, but it's an approvable side effect. You think George S.'ll come read that deal you wrote? It's brilliant, even if you didn't make fun of whatever Russian quirk thing makes him add the extra "s" onto the "thank" in "thank God" like a hood ornament of a car of something, H for Hundai, though really it actually makes more sense to directly address god than to form some sort of imperative commanding *other* people to thank god. Maybe, that is-- I guess it comes down to whether this god guy is more likely to read an amateur record review site than the majority of the population is. Maybe so, but who among us wants to believe in him? If god cared about record reviews, they'd probably just be about Yes albums or Front Line Assembly or something, even if I like both those bands. Can you tell I'm a little bored myself? Not with this, of course, this is worth doing. It's also worth stopping, because you aren't worth boring-- who deserves boredom, I dunno. [Ed's Note: How cool was *that*? I love feedback...]
Rich Bunnell (RichBunnell@home.com) (6/2/00): Hey!!!! I don't use that many exclamation points!!!!!!!!!!!!! The punctuation on that parody is completely exaggerated and unfair!!!!!!!!!! Why do people think that I do that?!?!?!?!?!?!??!??!?!?
* * * * Carl & The Passions "So Tough" (1972)--With blustery rock music and minimalist "R&B" currently polluting the airwaves, albums like this are the reason I keep coming back to the Beach Boys. Varied in mood and texture, C&TP features rock's best singers slipping in and out of the background and creating a colorful soundscape for me to get lost in. The pianos pound and shimmer and the drums funk along crisply. Much like The Beatles' White Album, C&TP is divided up amongst four Beach Boy camps. Brian contributes the punchy, Carl-sung "You Need A Mess Of Help To Stand Alone"; new members Ricky Fataar and Blondie Chaplin serve up the aching country rock masterpieces "Here She Comes" and "Hold On Dear Brother"; Dennis sings two serene piano ballads; and Carl, Al, and Mike surprise everybody with the breathtaking harmony-fest "All This Is That". The only missteps are Brian's "Marcella" and Carl/Al/Mike's "He Come Down", which share the same riff and are aimless in their irreverent fun. If the material isn't up to Brian Wilson standards, then at least his disciples remembered how to make a great-sounding pop record, and it's highly recommended for Beach Boys fans (which should be everybody).
* * * * Brian Wilson (1988)--Coming out of his 15-year haze, Brian Wilson wasn't breaking new ground anymore, but he still had a way with happy, affecting pop music. The result is a surprisingly consistent album, with a personal touch that makes it one of my all-time favorites. The sound is 80's synth-to-the-extreme, full but also tinny, and lacking the grit and random burps that helped make Brian's music so endearing in the 60's. But he pours on the harmony vocals to fill out the mix, and they're still inspiring and often breathtakingly complex. He has a hard time with the high notes, but there's a new gravelly charm that works surprisingly well. Some of the melodies are catchy-annoying ("Night Time", "Walkin' The Line"), but everything is memorable ("Baby Let Your Hair Grow Long"), and it's often gorgeous in the way that only Brian Wilson can make it (the now-standard "Love And Mercy", "Let It Shine"). The best melodies are emotionally affecting with enough pop instincts to distinguish them from assembly-line Celine Dion records ("There's So Many", the ethereal "Melt Away"), and he shows that he still has a way with a wordless acapella melody (the kiss-off "One For The Boys"). My favorite song, "Meet Me In My Dreams Tonight", should be cheesy pop, but the crackly Wilson touch makes it great. And everything ends on a pretty, intriguing, and slightly awkward song collage ("Rio Grande"). Twenty-six years on, Brian's music was different than before, but just as entertaining and loveable -- hopefully you'll buy this and enjoy it as much as I do.
* 1/2 Still Cruisin' (1989)--I guess Mike Love got bored with America's lovely beaches, because now he's dragging the Boyz around the islands like a bunch of guys wayyy past their mid-life crises. Some of the music is exciting, but for the most part, they're revisiting old themes rather than trying to create anything groundbreaking or even interesting. Mike is obviously no Brian Wilson (who co-wrote one song, the stupid, midly irresistable "In My Car"), but he was in charge of the two hits: "Kokomo," a tropical ballad that almost every "true" Beach Boys fan hates and I think is pretty catchy, and the title track, which is an enjoyable, unremarkable nostalgic trip along the lines of "Do It Again". Al Jardine sounds dumb but achingly sincere as usual, contributing the album's best (and most cliched) song, the dumb but achingly sincere "Island Girl." Meanwhile, Brother Carl blows everyone away with his effortlessly powerful baritone vocals. The truth is, there's some nice faux-Beach Boys music on here, but even the best tracks sound like parodies of their old sound: the old lyrical themes without much thought put into the melodies, which were the whole selling point of Brian's sixties hits. That, combined with the high number of embarassments on the album ("Wipe Out," a rap song with the Fat Boys?!?!, the cheesy "Make It Big," and reruns of three Beach Boys classic "featured in recent films"), makes Still Cruisin' inessential for anyone but completists.
* * 1/2 Summer In Paradise (1992)--At a 1992 concert in Bayfront Park, Mike Love said that the Beach Boys were releasing a new album soon, joking that it was something they tried to do every decade or so. To me, it made perfect sense: they were a band, and they released albums. Who knew it would be their last? I scooped it up, and to my young ears, it was the coolest thing in the world. Nine years on, they haven't yet made good on their promise, but the album is still enjoyable, and I suspect producer/songwriter Terry Melcher has a lot to do with it. These melodies flow quite nicely, making for a guilty pleasure, little-bitch imitation of the band's sixties triumphs. Mike tries to steal the show, and it's mostly grating, because his nasal cool is now a lot more nasal than cool, and he's somehow convinced that people still want to hear about surfing and his eco-ranting. He even relegates some of the best singers in popular music to glossy background vocals -- when Carl slips through every once in a while, it's as classy and breathtaking as ever. There's a schmaltzy Bruce number ("Slow Summer Dancin' (One Summer Night)"), an awful cover with "trendy" instrumentation ("Remember Walking In The Sand"), and a completely pointless remake of their primitive hit "Surfin'". But almost everything else is dumb, tuneful nostalgia-pop with well-placed harmonies and a cool feel-good vibe. Plus, diehard fan John Stamos respectfully updates Dennis' "Forever", complete with a heart-stopping spot from Carl. I don't begrudge the group for making a Brian-less album once every decade, and I'm glad I bought this in my drooling youthful naivete.
* 1/2 Brian Wilson: I Just Wasn't Made For These Times (1995)--Gaaah. No no no. Some of Brian Wilson's best songs reduced to EZ-listening elevator muzak fodder, and in my mind, that's an absolute travesty. At least Imagination only had two remakes, but here, it's the whole fucking thing. If you've ever wondered what great tunes like "Let The Wind Blow" and "Do It Again" sound like stripped of anything resembling grit, spontaneity, or decent harmony vocals, this is the disc for you: the music sounds as lobotomized as Brian himself. I'm hoping my audio tape is unnaturally sped up, because if it's not, Brian completely forgot how to sing at some point between his solo albums. Grating, pointless vocal after grating, pointless vocal. The letter-perfect musical backing makes it all go down easy, though, so concievably, if you have no idea who the Beach Boys were, this might be a pleasant experience for you; meanwhile, I feel like crying in disgust whenever I press 'play.' The high point is a scratchy Brian-at-the-piano demo of "Still I Dream Of It" from the 70's, where the sincere performance almost makes up for the sappy melody and offensively dumb lyrics. And "Warmth of the Sun" sounds pretty, despite smarmy backing vocals. I'm as glad as anyone else that such a great artist finally re-entered the studio, but with the results being such a pointless waste, I can't figure out why anyone greenlighted this for release.
* * 1/2 Stars & Stripes (1996)--Benbert: "This is a bunch of country music lesser lights singing the Beach Boys' greatest hits, backed by the Boys themselves. Country music. Lesser lights. You know the guys who are good at country music? This isn't even them. It's like watching the twelve lowest-rated shows on the WB network, in a row." Benper: "Okay, tons of reviewing fun. I admit that the lead vocals suck and the entire project is poorly conceived. But you can't argue with the songs. A track like 'Little Deuce Coupe' retains a level of fun no matter who's singing it." Benbert: "Even James House?" Benper: "The corpulent critic has spoken, but I'm not listening. Have you heard the backing vocals on here? It's Carl freaking Wilson. It's the Beach Boys, the best voices in rock and roll, together for the last time. Sure, you have to tune out Junior Brown, Sawyer Brown, and T. Graham Brown in order to hear them. But it's worth it. Hearing them reprise the first few notes of 'Don't Worry Baby' after thirty years gives me chills." Benbert: "Chills? For an overproduced, idiotic, and blatantly shameless project? Even Willie Nelson stinks up his turn at the mike. I felt no chills." Benper: "You wouldn't feel chills in Fargo in the middle of January. It's a fun album and that's final." Benbert: "Terrible album. I feel ashamed for having listened to it."
(Public Service Announcement)
Benper: "Fans of our show know that we like to haggle over the merits of a given album. And sometimes I like to take a dig at fatty's humongous weight just for kicks." Benbert: "Which is okay, because it's all for entertainment's sake and I have eight sidekicks waiting in the wings if this loser gets fired. But there's one issue that both of us feel very strongly about." Benper: "And that's the importance of buying albums like Stars & Stripes if you find them cheap enough. Dozens of low-priced albums languish unheard for every so-called 'good' record that misguided fans heap their money on." Benbert: "And every day somebody spends ten extra dollars for the superficial thrill of hearing Brian Wilson sing 'Fun, Fun, Fun' instead of Ricky Van Shelton. It's a tragedy, just like the invention of fat-free potato chips. So stop feeding your money to Big Quality, and head for the bargain bin today!"
* * * Brian Wilson: Imagination (1998)--I greeted this with no great expectations -- if it weren't for the six dollar price tag, I would have left it in the store like I have for the last two years. It's not because Brian Wilson isn't a genius, or because I didn't like his last solo album -- I did -- but in the crazy world of the late 90's, what could he possibly have to offer us besides a series of painfully awkward interviews? Well...more than I thought. There are four amazing tunes on here with hooks as giant and magical as anything he did thirty years ago with the Beach Boys: "Your Imagination" is sad and nostalgic ("I miss the way I used to call the shots around here...") in an upbeat, optimistic way; "South American" has two joyful hooks and moronic Jimmy Buffet lyrics ("I'm hungry and I'm doin' lunch with Cameron Diaz") that show that Brian didn't give a shit what he was singing (but isn't that the story of his career? He's one of the few singers who can sound utterly sincere singing lyrics that aren't his -- the melodies are that personal); "She Says That She Needs Me" is heartbreaking and wistful; and "Lay Down Burden" is an intensely personal tribute to his brother Carl with a sad, descending chorus. The rest ranges from fun ("Dream Angel") to nondescript ("Cry") to painful ("Sunshine," two pointless remakes of Beach Boys hits), with none of it making an impact like the best songs do. The instrumental backing is perfect to the point of sterility -- not a good thing at all, and it says a lot that his compositions transcend the facelessness of the music. Meanwhile, his voice is timid and crackling--not the heartbreaking falsetto of years past--but (and maybe only a diehard would cut him such a break) if you love Brian Wilson for what he's given us in 30 years, you'll hear the voice of a survivor who, by rights, shoudln't have even been able to make this album at all -- it's like hearing your best friend sing, and on that level, it works perfectly.
Are you Bruce Johnston wondering why the hell I haven't mentioned you? Write me!