Steve Krause
In the spring and summer of 1966, a series of songs by the Beach Boys commanded our attention for reasons that went beyond fun in the sun and the waves.
The first was “Sloop John B,” which was an old folk song Brian Wilson and Al Jardine fashioned into a hit because the upcoming album, “Pet Sounds” didn’t seem to have one that suited the label.
That fit the bill, and for most of that spring, “Sloop John B,” with its beautiful and intricate harmonies, became the soundtrack of our lives. The two songs that followed, “Wouldn’t It Be Nice,” and “God Only Knows,” raised the ante.
The former was kind of an angst-driven lament about two lovers who had to wait a little longer before they could, you know …
The latter was an almost-ethereal love song called “God Only Knows.” Today, almost 60 years later, it is considered one of the most gorgeous songs in the rock repertoire.
But it met with some speculation as to whether it was appropriate for a “rock ‘n’ roll” song to mention the Almighty. It was a minor issue, but it goes to show you what the thinking was back then.
The album “Pet Sounds” was something foreign to fans of the Beach Boys. There was no fun in the sun. No eternal optimism that the next wave would be the best wave. It was actually, in spots, very depressing (listen to “I Just Wasn’t Made for These Times” if you want an example).
Fans didn’t know what to make of it, and consequently it didn’t sell very well (it is now regarded as one of 10 best albums of the rock era). Wilson performed the album in its entirety a few years ago at Lynn City Hall. And while he had a tough time hitting some of the notes in a few of the songs, nobody cared. Just seeing him sing them was enough.
Finally, in the fall of 1966, came the piece de resistance of Brian Wilson’s fertile imagination: “Good Vibrations.” The song was in its embryonic stages from as far back as February of that year, right after Wilson listened to, and absorbed, “Rubber Soul” by the Beatles. It had everything: weird lyrics, intricate harmonies, odd musical instruments (who here had ever heard of a Theremin in 1966?) and one of the most out-of-this-world vocal chords ever sung, just before it kicked in with the final refrain. All I know is that I couldn’t hear it enough.
History has placed these songs in their perspective. At the time, the way the recording industry was demanding fresh material, these songs came too fast to judge them against others. Rock acts wanting to stay current had to keep the pace.
Brian Wilson died Wednesday at the age of 82. He was two days younger than Paul McCartney. The two had a lifelong mutual admiration society going, and it’s fair and accurate to say that Paul and Brian constituted a very exclusive club for talent and imagination.
They were geniuses, both of them. The musical landscape would be very different, and far less satisfying without them. And what’s interesting is that their lives were nowhere close to being similar.
Wilson had a sad life in many ways. He lived for many years with undiagnosed bi-polar issues. He was used (some say abused psychologically) by Eugene Landy, his longtime counselor.
He was beaten so severely by his father, Murry Wilson, that he was deaf in one ear. His father later ripped him off by selling his musical catalogue.
He was an acid casualty, and also snorted his share of cocaine. We could keep going.
He feuded with the group’s co-founder (and cousin), Mike Love. He watched his two younger brothers die before he did.
Yet he made exquisite music, and willingly shared his vulnerabilities from the earliest age. He may have written the soundtrack of summer, but he also allowed us to feel his pain and his insecurities.
As his output from 1966 proves, nobody could touch him in those years. He was head and shoulders above everyone else.
