Gary Pig Gold:
June, 2006
20 Big Ones
by Gary Pig Gold
With yet another endless summer upon us,
and the release of fine new Brian Wilson albums on a near
yearly basis of late - not to mention a possible (surviving)
Beach Boys reunion imminent (for a better-late-than-never-perhaps
40th Anniversary Tribute to Pet Sounds Concert in
London Town), I hearby take it upon myself to compile a Consumers
Guide of sorts to the sort of sounds every discriminating
listener, both old and new, should first consider sampling
when delving into the vast, sonically daunting B-Boys audio
catalog.
Upon carefully studying the data below, you
can proceed directly to the nearest virtual CD bar, then with
your top securely down simply point the car towards Surf City,
crank it up, and tell 'em The Big Pig sentcha!
"Catch A Wave" (1963)
A wet, wild and totally wonderful Call To
Arms for the barefooted legions of West Coast beach trash,
both real and imagined: This is one of the band's first, and
best, signposts towards the fabled, mythical Land of California
("Four Seasons, you BETTER believe it!")
"The Warmth Of The Sun" (1964)
A rich, evocative B. Wilson melody swirling
beneath lyrics of loss, pain and remorse (composed in the
wake of the JFK assassination): One of an absolute wealth
of Beach Boy recordings which continue to grow and mature
ever so gracefully with age.
"I Get Around" b/w "Don't Worry, Baby"
(1964 single)
This was the very first Beach Boys record
I ever owned: Not a bad way to start off one's collection,
no?
"Good To My Baby" (1965)
Their initial album of '65, Beach Boys
Today, is rightfully recognized as the beginning of the
band's most creative period (no doubt due to the fact that
Big Brother Bri had just retired himself from roadwork). This
all-but-lost rocker from Side One finds the band scaling Phil
Spector's Wall of Sound brick-for-sonic-brick, with more than
compelling results. Turn the clock Back To Mono, I say!
"I'm Bugged At My Ol' Man" (1965)
Tacked, as if by mere afterthought, onto
the end of the Summer Days album, this exercise in
barbershop-quintet-from-hell vocalizing takes on all sorts
of new, ominously macabre undercurrents in light of Father
Murry's, um, unique child-rearing practices.
"The Little Girl I Once Knew" (1965)
Capitol Records, and no doubt at least three
actual Beach Boys, flew into an absolute panic when this eccentric
little record failed to hit the Top Ten in the autumn of '65.
Solution? Throw out the Beach Boys' Party version
of "Barbara Ann" as a quickie-as-possible follow-up.
Result? One of the band's biggest international hits ever
(Sheesh
go figure!) proving, I do suppose, that the
dreaded Dumbing WAY Down of the B.Boys' (mass) audience began
long, long before "Kokomo" first put them on Cruise
control.
Pet Sounds (1966 album)
You mean you DON'T have your own copy yet?!!
"Good Vibrations" (1966)
What is really left to be said about this,
one of the greatest recordings of all time? Proof of its durability:
"Good Vibes" has duly survived countless subliminal
appearances on radio and TV hawking soda pop, cupcakes and
low-fat butter substitutes (not to mention several decades
of abuse on-stage at the hands of Mike Love & Co.) But
somehow still, this song continues to ring out strong, bold
and true in its original, and forever best, incarnation. They
simply do not -- or should I say CANNOT -- make records like
this anymore.
"Heroes And Villains" (1967)
As the intended cornerstone of The Great Lost SMiLE
Album (not to mention follow-up single to the aforementioned
"Vibrations" monster), this poor disc could never
even attempt to live up to its utterly undue expectations.
But listened to today, it reveals itself to be one of the
most subtly clever inventions the Boys ever concocted. (Also
highly recommended is the 1972 live recording off
Beach Boys In Concert).
"Wonderful" (1967)
Had SMiLE actually managed to come
out a half year prior to Pepper, this is but one of
a dozen examples therein proving The Beach Boys were easily,
musically AND vocally, light-years ahead of all other players
then on the field (and that includes Messrs. Lennon and McCartney).
The melody of this song in particular is absolutely without
precedent in the annals of (pop) music history.
"Busy Doin' Nothin'" (1968)
More often than not, Beach Boys lyrics mean
- and say -- much, much more beneath the surface than mere
sun, fun and surf: Listen closely to this gem, for example,
and you'll hear an actual fully-stereophonic MapQuest to Brian
Wilson's late-Sixties Bel Air pad!
"Do It Again" (1968)
The Beached Boys needed a hit - BAD - during this low-point
in their career (can you believe a concert in New York City
drew only 200 paying customers that summer?!!) So Mike Love
took a trip back to the beach, Brian discovered a great new
drum-loop effect (several decades before those Brothers Dust),
and Voila! A bonafide Top 20 Triumph circa "Tip Toe Through
The Tulips" !
"Break Away" (1969)
Metaphorically sending a message to their
ex-employers, the Boys ended their initial contract with Capitol
with this stunning if seldom-heard single (with lyrics purportedly
by father figure Murry!) Check out the great American
Band video documentary, wherein Mike Love (not war) dedicates
an early performance of this ditty in Prague, Czechoslovakia
to none other than anti-Communist rabble-rouser Alexander
Dubcek.
"I Can Hear Music" (1969)
When Carl most sorrowfully became the second
Beach Boy to forever drift away, the band was dealt a crippling
blow from which it never fully recovered. "I Can Hear
Music" was, unbelievably, the youngest Wilson's very
first attempt at record production, and somehow, someway,
he deftly made this original Ronettes number practically his
own. Ahh, my
Rest in peace, sweet young Carl.
"Surf's Up" (1971)
Casting about for a fresh lyrical collaborator
in the wake of Pet Sounds, Brian turned to Hollywood
boy wonder Van Dyke Parks, and this landmark composition was
supposedly the result of their very first night's work together.
An auspicious beginning to say the least, and one of the truly
great Beach Boy creations.
"Til I Die" (1971)
True, Brian may have gone into hiding for a few years 'way
back when, but he'd never fail to regularly send out little
phonographic "messages" to his fans the world over.
THIS message however, snuck onto Side Two of the Surf's
Up album, sounded like nothing short of a musical suicide
note. Powerful, disturbing
and utterly magical, as only
Brian Wilson can be.
"Marcella" (1972)
In one of the band's greatest (of several
dozen) marketing disasters, their Carl and the Passions:
So Tough album was first released as a double-LP set,
packaged alongside the first-ever Pet Sounds re-issue.
Of course, So Tough was made to sound all the more
wobbly when placed next to their 1966 masterpiece: nevertheless,
its one redeeming factor was "Marcella," a stirring,
zither-driven stomper originally composed by Brian in honor
of one of his favorite Sunset Strip masseuses. No, Really!
Mt. Vernon & Fairway (1973)
When The Beach Boys decided to relocate to
the Netherlands for a year in order to write and record their
Holland album, Brian was of course hijacked from his
room and (speaking of disasters) forced to come along. Naturally
out of sorts, wiped on apple sap and wallowing in Randy Newman's
Sail Away, he composed a marvelous suite of tunes which,
slyly disguised as a children's fairy tale, told the sad,
autobiographical story of a man abandoned by his muse. Cut
from the final album's line-up by forces untold (all you need
is Love), it was eventually pressed up onto seven-inch EP's
and included with the album's first pressings. Needless to
say, it shuts every other sound on the Dutch debacle down
WAY down.
"It's OK" (1976)
This totally rad little-single-that-couldn't
was supposed to provide the band with their first (self-composed)
hit in a decade, and was even the theme song for their legendary
Summer of '76 Saturday Night Live -produced television
special (wherein Officers Aykroyd and Belushi hauled a bathrobe-clad
Brian out of bed and into the cold, cruel waters of the nearby
Pacific). Of course, this first of several ill-fated Brian
is Back! campaigns backfired severely, but this song remains
one of the Boys' coolest ever records: Grab some headphones
and start picking it apart vocally sometime for some REAL
fun!
"Morning Christmas" (1977)
The late, very very great Dennis Wilson has,
outside of Adam Marsland's musical circles especially, gotten
criminally short shift insofar as musical appreciation is
concerned: This beauty (originally from the band's unreleased
Merry Christmas album), along with such other wonders
as "Fourth of July," "Slip On Through"
and "Be Still," so obviously reveal a tunesmith
as inventive as Brian himself, yet with a heart perhaps even
more fragile. Dennis, truth be told, embodied the very persona
of "Beach Boy," both physically and emotionally,
and as such it was perhaps fitting he finally succumbed to
the sea mere miles from the Wilsons' Hawthorne, California
homestead -- a childhood house where, it seemed a million
years earlier, this entire magnificent story-in-song had begun.
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