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Customer Reviews: Average Rating:  Rating :  - Brian Wilson, without reservation
Okay, I live in Huntington Beach, California, and one of the stained glass windows in the Catholic church next to my house has a surfer in it. Really. HB, for those of you that don't know, is Surf City. Despite all claims to the contrary, HB is the place, dude.
I grew up here. I remember going to watch my older brother surf at the jetty in 1961, met Corky Carroll and Rick Griffin and even heard the incomparable Dick Dale and the Del Tones. But there were the Beach Boys.
At first, nobody considered the Beach Boys to be serious music. They sang about 'SURFIN' for God's sake, and 'GURLS'. But they hit the mark with deadly accuracy. There isn't a pop band on the charts today that will be able to duplicate the brothers wilson and company back then.
Listen to "In my room" to "409", to "Help me, Rhonda". These are pop masterpieces in their own right, good as Hoagy Carmichael, good as Cole Porter, good as Elvis.
They weren't just musical compositions, they were sound sculptures. They were evocative, they were lovely, with a style and execution not previously seen.
Then things got wierd. Living in surf town in 68 and 69 saw hippies being tear gassed, music becoming the secret language of the young (to a much greater degree than it is today) I remember Jimi playing the Golden Bear, I remember the first FM radio stations, I remember Psychedelia.
And I remember PET SOUNDS. Without losing any part of the Beach Boys sound, it moved into more adventurous territory. About this time or earlier, you started to hear rumors about Brian. He was a hermit, he had a sandbox in his living room with a piano in it, he was making a masterpiece album. You know where this goes--
Album after album came from the Boys, most only had a couple of Brian songs. They got socially conscious, musically and thematically ambitious, then went to kind of a revanchist period. Brian was a confirmed recluse, and many articles were written about the legend of the wounded Fisher King.
Last night I attended a fundraiser at the Roxy ( a rock and roll nightclub in Hollywood) for the Carl Wilson Foundation. Dick Dale The Best of Dick Dale: 15 Classics from the King of the Surf Guitar thundered out his power trio magic. The Wilson girls sang Carl songs and reminisced bout Uncle Carl. The Honeys sang, as did Alan Jardine. Dave Marks showed some serious rock and roll prowess on the Fender Custom Esquire. (all of these acts backed by the very able Adam Marsland Chaos Band) You Don't Know Me This was a big party, and the small audience was full of family members and parts of the Beach Boys organization, and the hardest core of fans (like me)
Then Brian Wilson came out on the stage and blew my mind. (as we were wont to say once upon a time) Brian has serious mileage, and is quirky and sometimes difficult to watch. But Brian's voice is stronger than it has been in years, and his material is moving, insightful, and startling.
I ran right out and bought the album (get the one with the included dvd)
Say what you want. Brian Wilson is a 24 karat honest to god musical genius, and this is his best new work in many decades. The Brian Wilson band (mostly composed of the Wondermints)Wondermints soared and sparkled and shone like the missing ghosts of Brians' absent brothers and his estranged other Beach Boys.
Drug addiction? Legal Problems? Strangeness?
All is forgiven. The Brian Wilson story has always had a full grand opera sweep to it. Many rockers espouse the trappings of a walpurgisnacht, Brian was dragged in by the heels and consumed by one.
("I took the diamond from my heart and turned it back into coal" reads one lyric from this album)
And emerges, scarred but unbroken, to do it all again.
This is the best new album I have heard in a while. From anyone. I laughed. I cried. I fell in love all over again.
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