By Ryan Reed, Staff Writer
Background
Brian Wilson could record himself leafing through a Vanity Fair, and I’d listen to the B-sides. The man is a living legend-he’s done as much for composition in pop music as Geraldo Rivera for creepy dudes with awkward mustaches.
As the musical brains behind the pretty faces of The Beach Boys, Wilson directed his band from the early day, sunny California singles (“California Girls,” “Fun, Fun, Fun”) into more potent and compositionally elegant waters. The group’s (and Wilson’s) masterpiece, 1966’s Pet Sounds, was controversial within the group-some of the Boys (particularly Mike Love, who often served as Wilson’s biggest musical adversary) felt that the new material strayed too far from their hit-making formula. Wilson’s musical vision won out, and as a result, Pet Sounds still ranks as one of the most critically lauded albums in history.
Attempting to top that legendary album, Wilson went ripe crazy from pressure, eventually converting his piano space into a sandbox and eating abnormal amounts of food. Yet despite his troubling social and mental collapse, his musical abilities were as strong as ever. The new album was to be titled Smile, and even more so than the controversial Pet Sounds, this project would cause significant turmoil within the ‘Boys’ camp.
In the end, Wilson’s mental collapse took its toll on the band, and the supposed “teenage symphony to God” was shelved in favor of the bastardized versions (which featured only sections of the proposed Smile LP). However, in 2004, after several critically ignored releases, Wilson began meeting with Darian Sahanaja and lyricist Van Dyke Parks, in an effort to re-gain the inspiration and flow of the Smile project. That year, an official Brian Wilson version of the album was released, marking an end to the curse of the unfinished album. The legendary masterpiece had finally arrived.
And a masterpiece it is. Full of jarring musical juxtapositions, colorful horns, classic Beach Boys-style harmonies, and just about every other nook and cranny of the kitchen sink you can imagine, Smile was a personal and critical triumph for Wilson, who could now bring a frustrating chapter of his life to an appropriate close.
That Lucky Old Sun: 6.5 out of 10
Simply stated, there was no way Wilson could follow it without making another masterpiece. This year’s That Lucky Old Sun doesn’t come close. At 66 years old, Wilson frankly doesn’t have the vocal range he once had, and without the pure quality of songs to match those of Smile, the blandness of his youthful backing band starts to shine as brightly as the California sun of which he sings.
Hence the title. Brian Wilson writing a concept album about the sun and life in California is about as refreshing as a racially-charged Spike Lee film, and the problems only breed henceforth. Van Dyke Parks is back again, this time writing lyrical interludes which are placed between the actual tracks. Set to music, Wilson reads the mainly derivative lyrics in an off-key moan that is, at times, painful to listen to.
The actual songs fare better, and there are many moments comparable to Wilson’s glory days. The title track, which is used as a reprise throughout the album, effectively giving the project a sense of cohesiveness, is an updated version of a 1949 Beasley Smith track, and its simplicity shines brighter than anything else. “Morning Beat” uses a standard boogie-woogie template, as does “Going Home,” which features an absolutely gorgeous chorus. With its jagged piano stabs and vocal harmonies, the line, “At 25, I turned out the light ‘cause I couldn’t handle the glare in my tired eyes” is both reflective of his tumultuous past and is downright catchy. There are piano ballads (“Southern California”) and attempts to mix things up (the Spanish-inflected “Mexican Girl”), but mostly, it’s just what you’d expect.
Ultimately, That Lucky Old Sun is both a disappointment and a triumph. It brings Wilson back down to Earth after the revelation that is Smile, but also proves that he still deserves the attention of anyone with a pair of ears. That Lucky Old Sun is like a long hug from a former love- it still feels good, but you wonder where the magic’s gone.
5 Comments
October 6, 2008 at 8:43 pm
Hey, ya know Brian is spelled w/ an “i” and not a “y.” What are they teaching in colleges today?
October 6, 2008 at 10:44 pm
Thanks for noticing my mistake! It’s fixed now!
October 7, 2008 at 1:46 pm
Are you saying that in four years since he released Smile he lost his voice? Sorry Buddy not only do you not know how to spell his name your review lacks substance and logic. Four years ago he could sing and now he can’t?? There is so much magic in this new music and it’s apparent that your definition of magic and mine are not the same. It seems like everytime an artist goes in a different direction, which like it or not, Wilson does, one can only appreciate what they think he should be doing. If you remember correctly no one appreciated Pet Sounds either. It seems the case here. I totally disagree with this review and suggest you give TLOS another listen. There is as much magic in this cd musically as we could ever hope for.
October 7, 2008 at 3:19 pm
If you read the review, you’ll notice that I never claimed that Wilson’s voice has deteriorated since Smile. I stated that without brilliant songs beneath the voice, the flaws in his voice become more obvious. Seems as if your logic is flawed, not mine.
And the spelling error was a mistake in transferring the review to the website (which is explained in the comments section).
Good day.
October 9, 2008 at 1:24 am
[...] listening to “TLOS” a few times, I’m more in agreement with the sentiments of Ryan Reed of Patriot Online, who writes: …This year’s “That Lucky Old Sun” doesn’t [...]