Beach Boys’ good vibrations made music history

  Brent Hopkins Hopkins is still generally
a musical moron. Tell him so at [email protected].
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In my life, I have been wrong about many things. That flattop
haircut I had when I was 10 ““ bad idea. Not getting my timing
belt replaced at the 90,000 mile service ““ very stupid.
Buying the family-sized block of cheddar that subsequently turned
into a family-sized block of mold ““ unforgivable.

All of these pale in comparison, however, to the egregious
musical sin that I habitually committed nearly all my life. This is
even worse than buying the Color Me Badd debut album, and I thought
I’d never live that one down. As ashamed as I am to say it, I
never appreciated the Beach Boys until I was 21.

When I was growing up, the Boys made the music my parents
listened to. Thus, I thought it was just boring, outdated stuff
that was as interesting as going to the dentist. They raised me on
this stuff, and I never paid attention at all.

Though I had a little cardboard cutout of their Woody station
wagon and owned some of their records when I was five, I quickly
forgot the Beach Boys.

When I started getting my own albums, rather than my
parents’ hand-me-downs, I started listening to high quality
tunesmiths like Vanilla Ice and C&C Music Factory. As a hip
pre-teen, I didn’t want to be associated with those dated
surf tunes that my folks found so compelling, so I gave back my
records and cranked “Ice Ice Baby” loud.

Hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Though my tastes evolved from bland rap to other equally odious
musical garbage in time, I never caught on to the fact that there
was something more to the Beach Boys than screechy voices and a
good-times vibe.

In fact, I remember one particularly embarrassing Christmas
where I received one of their albums as a present and sailed it
across the room in a fit of misplaced preadolescent defiance.
I’m still not sure where that ended up, or even why I was
being such an idiot, but suffice to say, I was being sorely
unappreciative of a high quality group.

It wasn’t until I got to college that the skies began to
clear. I guess that it’s kind of sad that I had to go to UCLA
to learn what a whole generation of music fans learned just by
turning on the radio, but I suppose the ends justify the means. As
far as musical educations go, mine’s a pretty dumb one, one
that I’m kind of embarrassed to admit to. In the sake of
penance, however, I’ll tell you about my little Beach Boys
comeuppance.

In one of my music history classes, we studied another group
that I only recently learned to fully appreciate, the Beatles. The
professor mentioned offhand that the group’s masterpiece,
“Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” was
directly inspired by the Beach Boys’ “Pet
Sounds.” I sat up in my chair and began to wonder. The Beach
Boys influencing the Beatles? “Dude, no way!” I
thought, still stuck in the mind-numbing fog that gripped much of
my musical youth. I began to wonder how this supposedly cheeseball
group who sang about cars and other things I didn’t care
about, could influence artists such as John Lennon and Paul
McCartney. The jump from the Beach Boys’ “Little Deuce
Coupe” to the Beatles’ “A Day in the Life”
just seems too great, but the idea started banging around in my
head.

Afterward, I started listening a little more carefully whenever
Brian Wilson and company came onto the oldies station. Luckily for
me, they seem to be played once out of every five songs, so this
wasn’t terribly difficult. As I was examining the tunes in
greater depth, I did some reading up on the band.

The more I learned, the more I liked. It’s hard to beat
the story of the early days ““ four family members and a
friend joining up to make some novelty tunes about teenage
pursuits. I’d never noticed before, but the members of the
Beach Boys really are awesome singers. It had always seemed to me
that they were just weird falsettists, singing way out of any range
I could ever hit, but I didn’t pay attention to how amazingly
well they blend their tones together.

Sure, people pick on the Beach Boys for the sugar-sweet tone,
but there’s no denying that it’s incredibly hard to
sing that way. It may be odd — but I sure can’t do it, so I
can’t knock the band for that. There’s also no shortage
of snide comments about why the guys in the band are the Beach
Boys, rather than the Beach Men, the implication being that no real
man would sing that high.

As far as that goes, I’ll just respond with a big
“whatever.” “Don’t Worry Baby” might
be about three octaves higher than I’ll ever reach, but
there’s an undeniably masculine feeling as they throw it out
there in unison. Besides, the vast majority of their songs involve
drag racing, surfing or chasing girls — not especially pansy
pursuits.

The culmination of this rediscovery came a few weeks back when I
broke down and bought “Pet Sounds” myself. This is the
album that took them out of the realm of pop novelty and cast them
into immortality, the one rock critics trip all over themselves to
praise. And three decades after its release, it still stands
tall.

Prior to 1966’s “Pet Sounds,” the Boys were
just a bunch of kids fooling around. They had made some steps
towards growing up in the past, but not on par with this.
It’s made up of songs of regret, loneliness, and, sometimes,
unbridled optimism, set to whacked-out orchestrations and propelled
by those delicious harmonies.

Wilson, the group’s creative force, had developed a weird
mania with writing the greatest pop album ever after hearing the
Beatles’ “Rubber Soul.”

Propelled by what all accounts cite as a titanic deluge of
drugs, Wilson sat down to craft “Pet Sounds.”
It’s an odd blend ““ a Beach Boys album with nearly all
the songs played by non-Beach Boys members, written by a member of
the band who no longer went on tour with them. Doesn’t really
make sense, does it? Wilson had session musicians fill in for his
brothers on everything but vocals and no longer bothered to go on
the road.

Whatever the case, he made himself an awesome record. Whether
it’s the sunny “Wouldn’t it be Nice?” or
the weepy melodrama of “Caroline, No,” all the
accolades Wilson raked in are well-deserved. To be certain,
there’s some tracks that are decidedly cheesy, but hey,
they’re better than what most people could manage. It’s
also especially noteworthy considering that he had to submit the
whole album in mono, since he was partially deaf in one ear.

If he could do something this monumental with half his hearing,
I cringe to think what he could have done if he had the stereo
field to play with.

Unfortunately for Brian, his day in the sun would only last so
long. After the Beatles heard his magnum opus, it shot back with
“Sgt. Pepper,” and he flipped. From what I’ve
read, he threw himself too hard into responding once again and just
couldn’t handle the pressure. From then on, he was never the
same as a creative force and retreated from the group. He’s
rebounded lately, touring with an orchestra-backed “Pet
Sounds” concert to positive reviews, which I’m glad to
hear of.

Now that “Pet Sounds” (and the much underappreciated
“Beach Boys Christmas Special”) are occupying a
permanent slot in my CD cabinet, all I can say is: I’m sorry
I was too stupid to figure out that there was something more to the
group. I’m sorry I never listened more. I’m sorry I
threw that CD away.

I won’t file this rather long-winded diatribe on a note of
regret, however.

Instead, I’ll close with a feeling of satisfaction. It may
have taken me 20 years to get clued into the genius of the Beach
Boys, but at least I get it now. I’m going to ride this wave
for awhile, I think.