Showing posts with label Carl and the Passions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Carl and the Passions. Show all posts

11.02.2019

The Beach Boys in the 1970s, pt. 1


The Beach Boys have one of the more unique biographies of any group out there. A pretty unique discography, too. I'm only covering the 70s  albums today - and I trust the band doesn't need too much introduction - but here are the broad strokes of the periods not covered.

- In 1961, three brothers (Brian, Dennis, and Carl Wilson), their cousin Mike Love, and friend Al Jardine (once described by Dennis as "a man waiting for a bus"), form a singing group under the abusive (and deluded) tutelage of Murray Wilson. Past, present, and future members include Bruce Johnston, Blondie Chaplin, Ricky Fataar, David Marks, Glenn Campbell, and John Stamos. They score a steady stream of iconic singles - "California Girls", "I Get Around", "Surfin' USA", "Little Deuce Coupe", just to name a few - in the early-to-mid 60s and become one of the world's best-selling acts.

- They fire Murray as manager, but he remains the publisher. This sets into motion disastrous things. Brian quits touring to focus on composing. With the release of Pet Sounds and near-release of SMiLE (until 2011 the most famous "lost" album in pop history) they lose some commercial steam but gain 60s-artist cred. Mike gets really into transcendental meditation. Brian (and Dennis) get really into drugs. The band releases two commercially disappointing albums (which nonetheless contain two of my favorite tunes, "Passing By" and "Do It Again") and is dropped by Capital Records. 

- The Manson Family moves in with Dennis. The Beach Boys record one of Charles Manson's songs, and Dennis sets him up with his friend Terry Melcher. This sets into motion disastrous things. Brian's hold on reality begins to slip. 

As for the 80s and beyond:

- After Jim Watt tries to ban the Beach Boys from their now-traditional 4th of July performance at the National Mall, Ronald Reagan steps in to officially sanction the band as Americana itself. 


Within six months of this picture, Dennis drowns and Brian is re-condemned to the care of Eugene Landy.

- "Kokomo." (Which actually sounds way less lame than it did to me in 1988. But now I'm older and much lamer myself, so it's a wash.) 

- Through the stubborn efforts of his wife-to-be Melinda, Brian is freed from Gene Landy's care in 1991. Lawsuits fly in all directions. Carl Wilson dies in 1998. Lawsuits fly in further directions. Brian Wilson releases his own version of SMiLE in 2004. More lawsuits. The band reunites for a 50 year anniversary tour then breaks up again under disputed circumstances. The Mike Love/Bruce Johnston-led Beach Boys continue to perform a-hundred-plus shows a year; the Brian Wilson/ Al Jardine-led band, somewhat less but on they all go.

Have the lawsuits stopped? The final chapter remains to be written. 2014's That's Why God Made the Radio will likely be their last album. And guess what? A surprising bit of it is really good. Isolate any of those songs on YouTube and give 'em a whirl sometime. I'd link to a few, but the links are going to start flying fast and furious from here on out.

Brian still struggles with his demons from time to time. But by all accounts, he's happier, healthier, and more productive than ever before. 

As for the 70s, here's my picks for Worst to Best of the period, with further broad-strokes biography thrown in. Part the first, here we go:


12.
L.A. (Light Album)
(1979)
  
The band's last album of the decade is fairly dreadful. How could it have been anything else given the state they were in? Mike was nursing disappointment about many things, among them the Maharishi's failure to teach him to levitate. Carl was drinking too much; his attempts to manage and produce the band during some of its darker hours resulted in some great product but disastrous finances. Dennis was torching luxury cars in drug-and-drink fueled mayhem. Al was Al, but even he was on the eve of divorce from the woman for whom he wrote the album's only hit ("Lady Lynda," later changed to "Lady Liberty".) 

As for Brian, after a harrowing tour to Australia and New Zealand that nevertheless made a good deal of money, the band set about recording the first record under a lucrative new deal with CBS Records, a deal contingent on a certain amount of production and songwriting input from Brian. Unfortunately, after only a few days of work, Brian left the studio, flew across the country, and after some downward spiral behavior was committed to Brotman Memorial Hospital.

So, the rest of the band - who more or less hated one another - threw this one together. They flew out Bruce Johnston to help, and he's been with the band ever since. I like Bruce, but there wasn't much he could do. It might be the last Beach Boys record to have a few surprises. I wouldn't call the ten minute disco remix of "Here Comes the Night" a surprise, exactly; this was probably a very unsurprising thing to do in 1979. But call me crazy, I like it. I'm not too picky when it comes to ten minute disco remixes. Or techno ones for that matter. 2019 is a lot different than 1979. Remember this part when we get to Carcosa and "Shortenin' Bread" below.

More importantly, there's at least one legit-awesome song: "Goin' South." As mentioned before, Carl was depressed as hell in this period. It's all here in his vocal. Great song, great performance, great - if depressing - ambiance. 

Probably the second-best album cover they ever had, though. 


11.
Mt. Vernon and Fairway
(1973)

Not for newbies. Probably not even for oldbies. Mt Vernon is a 15 minute musical suite structured like a fairy tale and narrated by the band's then-manager and soon-to-be-swindler Jack Rieley, about a boy who escapes the horrors of his world through a magic transistor radio that bestows strange powers upon him.

Brian brought this to the band around the time they were putting Holland together and was apparently crushed that they rejected it. Carl, realizing how hurt he was, helped him add some tracks and polish it up. Eventually it was included as a free 7-inch with Holland, a throwaway gesture that probably didn't make Brian feel any better.

I have sympathy with all sides here. On one hand, from Pet Sounds on, Brian had only sporadic interest in making Beach Boys music. He felt an enormous responsibility to do his best to write singles for them, but he was being tugged in different directions, both personal (drugs and mental illness) and artistic (weird stuff like this painfully-transparent allegory for his horrible childhood and magical transformation.) Mt. Vernon isn't really that fun to listen to, but it's interesting for the Brian Wilson reality show side of the band. For better or worse, this is the kind of stuff he wanted to do, and he kept getting stymied. ("Stick to the fucking formula, man!" probably still ringing in his ears from the SMiLE sessions.)

On the other, what the hell, I mean - none of these guys were psychologists. They did the best their could with a situation they were understandably ill-equipped to deal with. Pet Sounds is a classic now, as is SMiLE, but put yourself in any of the other guy's shoes (except for Dennis.) Everytime you come back from touring, the band's main songwriter has collected something very disparate, personal, and uncommercial. Plus, he's acting crazy FFS.  They had their own responsibilities, which included keeping the band a commercial viability - kind of an imperative in 1973. They couldn't just make the focus of the band making Brian feel better, in other words. (Although that's exactly what they'd do in a few years with Love You.)

Anyway, the band was correct: whatever it meant to Brian, it wasn't a sensible thing for the Beach Boys to put out.

10.
Adult/ Child (1977)

Probably not for newbies either. Intended as a companion album to Love You, the album remains officially unreleased. It's tough to judge just from these demos, but again it's easy to understand the band's (pretty much Mike Love's) reaction when they got back from tour to see what their maestro had been cooking up in his song kitchen. ("Brian, what the fuck are you doing?") And once again, Brian swallowed his hurt feelings and shelved it. 

Thing is, this contains at least two pretty good tunes ("Life is for the Living," a credible big-band song, and "It's Trying to Say," which sounds like Brian and Dennis did a lot of coke but nonetheless had a good ol' time doing it) and two essentials: "Shortenin' Bread" and "Still I Dream of It." 

Brian, a little like Roddenberry bringing the Trek-saves-JFK plot to baffled producers over and over, kept bringing "Shortenin' Bread" to the Beach Boys. This version is apparently the best, and I agree wholeheartedly compared to the other ones I've heard. (Skip the official version on L.A. - it's dreadful.) Brian was well-known for playing it for hours on the piano, never deviating from the simple melody or the refrain. He did something similar with "Ding Dang," but oh we'll get to "Ding Dang." My theory is that when he looked into the swirl of these simple, repetitive chords, he saw something like this visual of Carcosa from the last episode of True Detective, s1:


Who knows what he was hearing in his head, singing along with him? Carl's spirited vocals (spiritless on the L.A. version) are probably an approximation of his trying to describe it. There are a lot of theories on this out there in Beach-Boys-message-board-land. It's probably close to what Brian's head sounds like (or at least sounded like) in this period.

Even moreso with "Still I Dream of It." What a haunting tune. Underneath the simple lyrics and casual descriptions ("Time for supper now...") is as clear an expression of a man in confusion and pain as any I know. Compare to this beautiful, sad song "Midnight's Another Day" that covers similar terrain from Brian's Lucky Old Sun (2008); that confusion and pain grew considerably more lush. Which is kind of a weird thing to say, but there it is.

"I'll find my world /
I'll find my world /
Someday I'll find my world..."


9.
Holland (1973)

Holland is a pretty cool record. It's named what it is because they all moved to Holland to record it, but it's a concept album about the Euro-immigration to the Americas. And a credible one, minus most of Mike's California suite on side one.

The only problem - and it's not much of one, as problems go, especially if you don't own the other one so you'd never notice - is that the good/great songs are all much more awesome on In Concert. With one exception: "Funky Pretty," one of the coolest tracks in their whole catalog. The version on In Concert is pretty great, don't get me wrong, just this studio version sounds fully realized and wonderful. 

I should mention the two new members of the band during this period: Blondie Chaplin and Ricky Fataar. 

Blondie still plays with Brian. Ricky went on to play with pretty much everyone. I first read about his stint with Bonnie Raitt as his having played with Ratt - a much, much different band - and I spent a good few hours researching this in disbelief before realizing my mistake.
While we're here.

Endless Summer - one of three or four greatest hits packages put out during the mid-70s - came out in the wake of pre-hippie nostalgia unleashed by American Graffiti, and the band rode that wave all the way to shore. They went from opening slots and small venues to becoming again the biggest concert draw in America in 1974 and 1975. Brian, however, had nothing to do with it. He was in bed, "stuffing himself with food and drugs, beating his toes against the headboard of carved angels and humming his own songs, California dreaming." (Steven Gaines, Heroes and Villains, 1986).

8.
M.I.U. (1978)
  
If you're a Beach Boys fan you're probably wondering why the hell I'm putting this ahead of Holland. Holland is a better album than this one, for sure. But once you remove the songs from it that sound better on In Concert, this one matches up better against the remainder. Some notes:

- "She's Got Rhythm" I dig it. Chronologically, this was written after Adult/Child. Can't you hear it as a "Fine, you want the formula again? Here you go" from Brian? We never appreciate those gifts that come to us easily.
- "Sweet Sunday Kind of Love" Great Carl vocal. I thought it had to be a cover, as it sounds kind of like a classic Ronettes tune or something. 
- "Belles of Paris" This should be a Wiggles (mk1) song. I admit, my whole perspective is warped by this realization. 
- "Pitter Patter" Uh-oh. I kind of love this one, too. The lyrics are clever if uncomplicated, and the idea is banal, maybe, but the clarity of expression is admirable. Written by Brian, Mike, and Al, great lead vocals by Mike and Al. I love Al's voice, while we're here. Always easy to pick out of a mix.
- "Match Point of Our Love" Here's a nice late-innings vocal from Mike. What strikes me most about it is how perfectly of its era that it sounds. Not a wheel-recreator, but does everything need to be? Frankly I'm surprised Brian was able to pull this one off, given everything else going on in his life at this time.
- "My Diane" Back to the Brian Wilson reality show. (Diane was his estranged wife's sister, one corner of a very bizarre love triangle in Brian's life.) I like how the melody on the verse goes up and up (a Brian trademark) while it comes back down again during the chorus.


"Everything is old and nothing is new /
all I ever do is think of you. / 
Memories haunt me night and day/ 
Aah aah aah aah AAH AAH AAH AAH!"

- Finally, "Winds of Change" isn't a fave, but the ending is a great coda for the Warner Brothers era.

All of which is to say, for an album I always heard was crap, I found a lot to talk about. Maybe that says more about me than critics or the album itself, I don't know. However you slice it, "Pitter Patter" is great.

7.
15 Big Ones (1976)

The background to this one is complex. Coming off two years of unprecedented popularity and selling out arenas and accompanied by a media blitz ("Brian's Back!") that included a short film for SNL, and Brian newly under the care of the California psychiatrist to the stars, Gene Landy, the pump was primed for the biggest, most polished Beach Boys product ever.

Instead... it got this. Which sounds like some demented Schoolhouse Rock outtake. (Incidentally, one of my favorites from 15 Big Ones.) What a weird effing album, man. I actually really love it. It takes great restraint to not place this as high as number 3 for me. But it's easy to see how it was not quite the album for the band's specific needs in 1976. It sold better than any album of new material since the 60s, primarily due to the "Brian's Back" campaign, and "Rock and Roll Music" was a hit (though not a fave for me). Brian was adamant about putting out an "underproduced" sound, and he won that argument. As predicated, however, it did not capitalize on the band's high visibility to the rest of the band's satisfaction. Carl and Dennis flat-out hated it.


Me? Like I said, I kind of love it. 15 Big Ones! What? You heard me. Let's look at some of the songs.

- "It's Okay" It's more than okay, it's great. I can't imagine any way of hearing this song without coming to that conclusion. 

- "Had to Phone Ya" and "Everyone's in Love with You" both really grew on me. Ditto for "Suzie Cincinnati." That chorus really gets stuck in your head. And the ending sounds great in headphones.

- I mentioned "Rock and Roll Music." The album is split between covers and originals. Some of the other covers ("Blueberry Hill," "Palisades Park") are okay, while "A Casual Look" and "Just Once in My Life") are probably pretty great. "Chapel of Love" though, holy moley. This one is terrifying. It doesn't enjoy a good reputation among Beach Boys fans, but seriously, I'd rather listen to this twenty times in a row (don't dare me) than half of Endless Summer. I think the "bow bow, bow bow" stuff is where the Carcosa-fractals start. I guess Brian got over his idea that Phil Spector was trying to kill him. (I shouldn't kid about the guy's very real mental terrors, but yeah, at one point Brian thought everything he was hearing or seeing had some hidden (and malevolent) connection to Phil Spector. Maybe that explains the ominous undercurrent of  this cover. ) "Talk to Me" has a similar unwinding effect on my sanity. Ditto for Dennis's harrowing vocal on "In the Still of the Night." If there's a scene in a movie where the inmates take over the asylum and throw a dance, or some zombies-from-Hell-big-wedding-scene, this would be perfect for it.

15 Big Ones!


6.
Carl and the Passions - So Tough (1972)

Often described as a transitional record for the band as they brought in Blondie and Ricky and presented a more roots rock sound. The title refers to the name of the band the boys put together when teenagers for a talent show; to coax Carl into coming along, Brian named their act Carl and the Passions. For this album - where Carl stepped into de facto music leader of the group - perhaps that was the joke, I don't know.

What it is is a perfectly cool little album. The songs from the new members are both fine (although the drums on "Here She Comes" are really high in the mix and overwhelm all other elements, as the liner notes to the remastered CD rightly point out) - probably even way more than fine if you like this kind of The-Band-sounding stuff more than I do. "Marcella" is great, but I prefer the In Concert version one. The lead-off track ("You Need a Mess of Help to Stand Alone") is great, too. Mike's TM song isn't great, but FWIW it's the best of all the band's TM tracks.

It's most distinguishing aspects are Dennis's tracks (which point the way to the sound he more fully realized on his solo album) and the wonderful "All This Is That" written (and beautifully sung) by Al, Carl, and Mike. Like a lot of Carl tunes from this period, the lyrics are less important than the feel of them, and that "that makes all the difference / to me-ee" and "Jai Guru Dev" stuff couldn't feel better. One of my favorite all-time Beach Boys tracks.
~
Let's pause a minute to clean up some of this bongwater and jump back into it next time for a Top 5. See you then!