Ink Tea Stone Leaf

In Part 1, I discussed the art of listening to the Beach Boys, some of the historical context I find important to appreciating them, and some possible entry points in approaching their rather substantial discography.

In this post, I will present two routes for getting into their music on a deeper level: listening to the studio albums, or listening to my specially curated list of 50 great and representative songs.

Something About the Eras

My wife tells me that, when I first told her I was a Beach Boys fan, she took it upon herself to listen to all of their studio albums in order. I would not recommend this approach to most people for two reasons: there are too many Beach Boys studio albums, and there are too many bad ones. Both of these reasons are oversimplifications, but if you should spend as much time with these guys in your ears as I have, you’ll understand why I make them.

Nevertheless, I simply have to say that I love my wife and I honor the sacrifice she made in trying to understand me (and them) better.

Instead, I am going to suggest that you draw out the experience of listening to the Beach Boys. Get comfortable in one section of the pool before swimming out to the deeper zones. This doesn’t mean going one album at a time, except in the literal sense that you shouldn’t listen to more than one at a time like some kind of hyper-stimulated maniac. Rather, it means taking time to understand the evolving sound of the Beach Boys through their distinct periods of artistic development—what people in this era increasingly call “eras.”

Some Beach Boys eras are easier to love than others, while others appeal more strongly to people of particular personalities. All of them are only parts of one messy and beautiful totality. The order in which you sample them is not necessarily fixed, and I will not be discussing them chronologically, but rather in an order that approximates my own journey through their discography—you can read or listen in whatever order you like. Most of these chunks of time contain multiple albums, but you need not panic, as Beach Boys albums tend to be short, with thirty to thirty five minutes being a common span.

Without further ado, let’s start at the easiest beginning.

The Hip Albums (1966-1967),

• Pet Sounds
• Smile (or The Smile Sessions)

Every conversation about why the Beach Boys are important, actually, begins with Pet Sounds. Often it lingers there longer than it ought to, but it is only natural, if not unavoidable. Pet Sounds is a titan of lasting influence for its songwriting, arrangements, and production. More importantly, its place in the catalog tells a compelling story: the story of Brian Wilson, the creative genius who burst forth from the stultifying confines of surfing songs and commercial success to teach his peers that the studio was an instrument too, and bless the world’s ears with the unfathomable perfection of songs like “God Only Knows.” Balancing joy with melancholy to find emotional depth, it is an object of startling beauty and sophistication among pop albums of any era, and challenges any distinction between popular and art music.

It is a pleasure to listen to Pet Sounds because it is beautiful; it is hip to listen to Pet Sounds because it is the product of a misunderstood auteur and because it looks like an exception to a rule. The same goes for Smile, which completes the story by explaining how somebody with such potential could flame out so quickly into seclusion and worrisome eccentricity. The biggest difference is that Pet Sounds is an album that exists, while Smile is a concept that failed to congeal into an official release. There is Brian Wilson Presents Smile (2004), which represents the composer’s official introduction to the world of what had previously consisted of unfinished material; there is also The Smile Sessions (2011), which presents that unfinished material in accord with the framework established by Wilson’s solo album. Neither of these, however, were what Smile was going to be, and so it is an open question as to whether either of them are, in fact, Smile.

(Personally, I think they both are Smile, as much as anything can be, but we could be on this point all day).

Both Pet Sounds and Smile are notable for pushing the envelope in the field of studio production. The former demonstrated how recording technology could be used to create sounds and sonic textures that did not correspond to any instruments that actually existed, a concept which quickly exploded into fashion in popular music. The latter anticipated approaches to recording that only became truly feasible in a time of digital technology, as its songs were constructed from modular fragments that could be arranged and rearranged as the producer saw fit; the song “Good Vibrations,” recorded in four different studios to take advantage of unique acoustic properties for different instruments and sections, is like Smile in microcosm. Both albums are also characterized by relentless perfectionism and a determination to realize a unique personal vision; Smile is all the more poignant for having been abandoned thus, unfinished.

The most obvious difference between the two albums is lyrical: the words of Pet Sounds (written mostly by Tony Asher) are direct and obviously relatable, while the words of Smile (written mostly by Van Dyke Parks) are symbolic and dense with surreal wordplay and humor. Both represent major departures in subject matter for the Beach Boys, and it has been noted that although the whole band sing on both albums, the instrumentation is mostly the work of studio musicians under Brian’s direction—they have been characterized as essentially Brian Wilson solo albums for this reason. I don’t think they are exactly that, either; Brian once noted that he included the others because he considered the unique sounds of their collective voices a vital ingredient of what he was pursuing. One might also note that, given the emotional dynamics of working with family members who depended on his writing and leadership, he probably was not emotionally ready to pursue a solo career while also holding back a portion of his best work for them to record. So despite being among the most left field albums of their careers, they are nevertheless real Beach Boys albums. At least, Pet Sounds is real. Smile is more real than it used to be.

But are they the only two albums worth listening to? Certainly not. We’ve only just begun.

Leading from the Studio (1965)

• The Beach Boys Today!
• Summer Days (And Summer Nights!!)
• Beach Boys’ Party!

In late 1964, a major breakdown aboard an airplane on tour led Brian Wilson to retire from live performance, without leaving the Beach Boys. The following year, relying on studio musicians while the other members toured, he produced three studio albums for the Beach Boys (things used to move a lot faster in the music industry). All three had exclamation points in their titles, were influenced by Brian’s introduction to cannabis and LSD, and anticipated elements which flowered the following year during the sessions for Pet Sounds. Although I define this era very briefly, Brian in fact did not tour with the band again until the mid-1970s, appearing with them only on special occasions.

The 1965 albums have little to say about surfing or hot rods, two of the three primary lyrical themes of their early years (the third major theme, the attractiveness of members of the female sex, proved more enduring). The songs are a blend of rock ‘n’ roll and pop balladry, and feature a wider variety of instruments than the band used previously. While it’s not exactly true that the Beach Boys themselves no longer played any instruments on these albums, with Carl Wilson in particular being featured often on guitar, there was a growing split between Brian’s new direction and the older material they continued to play on stage, with the newer songs requiring arrangements streamlined for a rock band.

Much of this music was a response to the commercial dominance of the Beatles, as the Beach Boys attempted to compete with that band using superior studio technique and leveraging their association with the California lifestyle. As those exclamation points imply, there was a deliberate effort to market the band as a “fun” group, branching off from the beach activities to sing about dancing, amusement parks, and even skiing in landlocked mountain states like Utah. But there are songs about romantic relationships too, and these songs tend to project a disillusionment and insecurity that give Today! and Summer Days a more sedate and somber feeling than their titles would suggest.

Today! especially is cited as a kind of proto-Pet Sounds. The second half features five beautifully orchestrated, emotionally serious ballads that could easily have worked in the context of that album, addressing many of the same themes. Some of the songs of this era are silly and fluff, but the thematic unity of side two of Today! (minus the last track, a bit of filler from an interview that nobody seems to know what to make of) suggests the mind of an artist struggling to reconcile greater ambitions with a sense of responsibility toward maintaining his group’s commercial standing.

Another example of that balancing act is “Help Me Rhonda,” a song which featured on Today! as a dense, offbeat album track with a pair of playful false fade-outs. It reappeared only a few months later on Summer Days with a leaner arrangement and a few added hooks, and became the band’s second chart-topping single. The sound of the hit single version is as bright as can be, but the lyrics are typical of this year: full of self-doubt, and in search of relief.

Party! is the odd album out of this group, as it consists almost entirely of covers, and presents itself as a live recording of loose, stripped-down performances at a house party (where else?) amid sounds of laughter and merriment. It is in fact a meticulously crafted studio creation, but the illusion is so seamless that it speaks to the sheer talent of Brian Wilson as a producer. The “party” is lively and suffused with a goofy sense of humor that manifests in its song choices, including parodies of a pair of the group’s own hits. That it sounds very little like Pet Sounds must have made that album seem all the more remarkable.

The Aftermath of Smile (1967-1968)

• Smiley Smile
• Wild Honey
• Friends

Despite the toll his mental illness was taking on him, Brian Wilson did not descend immediately into seclusion after shelving the Smile tapes. With more than a year having passed since the release of Pet Sounds (an uncharacteristically long interval for the times), something had to go on the market. Much of what came out in these years was recorded quickly and simply in Brian’s home studio, and the songs sound home-made in ways that will either seem endearing or bewildering.

Smiley Smile is, conceptually, one of the oddest albums the Beach Boys ever released. One could think of it as a hasty remake of Smile, containing two fully produced tracks from that album’s sessions (“Good Vibrations” and “Heroes and Villains”) and a smattering of other intended Smile songs done in the style of six guys playing around in the living room. Characterized by Carl Wilson as a “bunt” in lieu of the envisioned grand slam, its virtues are that it is supremely relaxing to listen to, and quite funny if you enjoy stoner humor. It’s like Beach Boys’ Party! for art students.

Wild Honey is considerably less stoned, but similarly stripped down in contrast to the dense orchestration of Pet Sounds. It’s a rock ‘n’ roll, rhythm & blues affair, with more conventional lyrics for those genres than the surreal poetry of Smiley Smile, but a lot of the same relaxing feel. Friends is gentler still, with songs that defy any sort of genre label; they are brief, mostly quiet, beautiful things with hidden complexities that are harder to notice than those of Pet Sounds, but just as stunning once you do.

Brian Wilson’s intention during this time, following the massive disappointment of Smile and his group’s rapidly diminishing reputation, seems to have been to lower the stakes and distract the audience’s attention from himself. Any competition with the Beatles or other leading figures rock music was abandoned. In “I’d Love Just Once to See You” and “Busy Doin’ Nothin’,” he depicts himself as a simple homebody with nothing profound to say, but with a quiet desire for human connection. He ceased claiming sole credit as producer for these albums, even if his production role had not actually changed much as of yet. His share of lead vocals also began to decline, while Carl Wilson (who had stunned with his leads on “God Only Knows” and “Good Vibrations”) picked up the slack, becoming a major voice in the band and permanently altering their overall sound as a result. Carl, Mike Love, and Al Jardine began co-writing with Brian more frequently, while Dennis Wilson brought two songs of his own to Friends; this was the first stage of a major change in how the Beach Boys produced music.

The Ensemble (1969-1973)

• 20/20
• Sunflower
• Surf’s Up
• Carl and the Passions – “So Tough”
• Holland

It’s not easy to explain what the Beach Boys were doing during these five years, aside from bouncing up and down the middle range of the album charts like a yo-yo and attempting to rediscover the path to a distinct identity that resonated with the public. Sunflower never rose above 151 on the Billboard 200, a humiliation for a band that once regularly hit the top 10; Surf’s Up, regarded as a promising comeback effort, peaked at 29. Chart position ultimately means little in assessing the artistic worth of these albums over the long term, but you can be sure it meant a lot to them at the time.

20/20, their last album for their original record label (Capitol), improved on Friends‘ disappointing performance by a similar ratio, despite being a haphazard assemblage. It had the least involvement from Brian Wilson of any Beach Boys album to that point, largely due to a hospitalization for mental illness. Of the twelve songs on 20/20 he wrote or co-wrote only five, and two of them had been retrieved from the Smile tapes over his objections. The difference was made up by covers, a piece by Bruce Johnston (who had been a member of the band since 1965), and three songs by Dennis Wilson, one of which was actually written by Charles Manson. When you take the songs one by one, they are mostly quite good; but if you wait a while, you may find yourself struggling to remember exactly which songs were on it, because they make very little sense together.

The pattern continues for Sunflower and Surf’s Up, although both of them are considerably more cohesive (especially Sunflower, however poorly it charted). Brian contributed a few high-quality songs of his own and assisted on a few others, while every other member of the band wrote songs with him and without him, and once again raided the Smile vault. These two albums stand out as the clearest example of the Beach Boys as a more mature and equal collaborative society, capable of producing interesting and beautiful music born from multiple balanced points of view. They could be warm and sunny, or serious and melancholy, and still maintain the core of what was by now an established sound; it was perhaps the best case scenario for what the future of the band might have looked like.

After Surf’s Up, the Beach Boys underwent a significant personnel change. Bruce Johnston left the band, while Blondie Chaplin and Ricky Fataar, two musicians from the South African band the Flames, officially joined. Relations between the core five members were fraying badly, to the point where most bands would have simply broken up, and a case can certainly be made that this is what they ought to have done. What this would have ultimately meant for the members’ personal and professional lives is hard to say, but artistically they were running short on options.

Still, this version of the band produced two more solid albums before Chaplin and Fataar pulled up stakes. The same basic creative approach continued, but with the new lineup it yielded a sound that was harder and deeper, and more in line with the mainstream guitar rock of that era. Carl and the Passions – “So Tough” has a strangely formatted title that seems to suggest the band is adopting a Sgt. Pepper-esque dual identity, although there is nothing in the album’s lyrical contents to show for that suggestion. Easier to grasp is Holland, so called because it was recorded in Holland, and there’s little doubt in my mind that it has the stronger and more memorable set of songs.

For a group that he had once dominated, and despite still writing or co-writing some of its best new songs, Brian Wilson was now fairly marginal. His most notable contribution to Holland is a bonus EP called Mt. Vernon and Fairway, a childlike fairy tale about a magic radio. Mt. Vernon is an interesting coda to this era in Beach Boys history, as it illustrates a new development in Brian’s creativity, more in touch with his own impulses and less concerned with filtering them through conventional or commercial criteria. Some of the music that followed was more deeply personal than anything most mainstream artists would ever dream of releasing. But despite his previous accolades, he was no longer really a mainstream artist.

The Boys of the Beach (1962-1964)

• Surfin’ Safari
• Surfin’ U.S.A.
• Surfer Girl
• Little Deuce Coup
• Shut Down Volume 2
• All Summer Long
• The Beach Boys Christmas Album

Why wait so long to get back to the beginning? If you’ve ever heard the Beach Boys before, then you’ve probably already heard a lot of the best songs they produced in this era. These are the Beach Boys of collective memory, who cranked out songs about surfing and hot rods and girls on the beach. Does it matter that they only really did this for about two years? Maybe not, if they produced seven albums in that time.

Prior to their competition with the Beatles, who hit the U.S. market like a meteor in 1964, the Beach Boys were the most popular rock group in the country, and they played by the rules then in place for the industry. The primary emphasis was on producing hit singles, and they produced them in droves. Albums were of secondary importance and were not expected to be serious works of art from beginning to end. The experience of listening to any of the first six Beach Boys albums is to drop in on an exercise in image-making. Of course, this is true of all albums by anybody, but it’s especially stark in their case: you only need a glance at the titles to get a sense of the primary lyrical content of each package. They’re all pretty slight, and Little Deuce Coup is only half an original album, with several songs being derived from its three predecessors.

There are reasons to pay attention to these albums, however. Brian Wilson was only credited as producer beginning with Surfer Girl, but he had been the composer of the group’s original music from the start, and had likewise involved himself deeply in how the recordings were produced. His being credited was more a recognition of an existing fact than a real change in the control booth. And from the beginning, his songs were more sophisticated than the competition, with his mastery of vocal harmony arrangements and his sophisticated melodic sense.

Another interesting thing about the earliest albums is that, for the most part, the Beach Boys were playing their own instruments. In late 1962 the members ranged in age from 21 (Mike Love) to 12 (David Marks, who temporarily replaced Al Jardine after the recording of their first single), and they were talented but raw. As Brian grew bolder in his arrangements more session musicians were gradually added to the mix, but these albums were all recorded before he left the touring group in 1965. The days of distinction between the Beach Boys as a performing act and the Beach Boys as a recording entity still lay in the future. As artificial as the surfer imagery could be, there was authenticity in the performances.

And frankly, there are a lot of great songs on these albums. Many of them were not only commercial hits in their time, but (like “Surfin’ U.S.A.,” “Surfer Girl,” The Warmth of the Sun,” “In My Room,” “Don’t Worry Baby,” and “I Get Around”) remain frequently cited as early examples of Brian Wilson’s creative genius for melody and harmony. You can hear pretty much all of the best ones on various compilations, but they don’t lose anything by being situated in their original context, among ballads and rock ‘n’ roll songs written to appeal to naive teenagers with time on their hands. If this was all they ever did, it would still be fun (fun, fun).

The last two albums of this era, All Summer Long and the Christmas Album, are interesting as bridges to the following era. Both are representative of the first stirrings of the band’s rivalry with the Beatles, as well as efforts to expand their lyrical concerns beyond what the public had come to expect from them. In the case of the Christmas Album that almost goes without saying, as the songs are mostly Christmas standards, but I seriously considered grouping All Summer Long with the 1965 albums, because the shift in creative mindset is already evident.

Ding Dang (1976-1977)

• 15 Big Ones
• The Beach Boys Love You
• Adult/Child

1974 and 1975 were the first calendar years in a decade to feature no new studio albums from the Beach Boys, and the general consensus was that they were washed up. To the extent that they were creatively paralyzed, this was mostly true. But a revival of interest followed the release of a popular Greatest Hits compilation, and suddenly the will existed to record more albums, and to return Brian Wilson to full production authority. The result is, among all of the various eras of Beach Boys history, the most difficult to explain to a normal person.

The 1970s had been a hard time for Brian, as drug abuse and mental illness impacted his ability to perform. Most notably, his voice sounded completely different in 1976 than it had just a few years before, croaking and much reduced in range. 15 Big Ones, billed as a comeback with the tagline “Brian’s Back,” was mostly a covers album, but it did better business than anything they had done since Pet Sounds (in fact, it did better than Pet Sounds). Most of the other members of the band were unsatisfied with the album on an artistic level, but 15 Big Ones seemed to prove that the Beach Boys were trapped in place where artistry was not the prime determiner of how their music would sell.

The following year, Brian produced The Beach Boys Love You, perhaps the clearest and most confounding window into his mind that has ever been opened. It was the first album in years to feature his songs exclusively, and he played nearly all of the instruments, which were mostly Moog synthesizers. I could detail all of the ways in which these songs strike people as strange, from the sound of his voice to the idiosyncratic subjects of the lyrics: late night TV, the astrological qualities of the solar system, airplanes, and the oddest expressions of romantic love you’ve ever heard. I could point out that “Roller Skating Child” sounds inescapably creepy given the ages of the men who sing it. But I would also have to point out that the song is otherwise pretty great, and so are most of the others—evidence that the gift for melody had not abandoned Brian in the least. After listening to the album in full, and giving deep consideration to the songs in their context, many conclusions are possible. Mine is that Love You exists in a different universe from most other pop music, where people with unique talents can write songs about all the bright and dark things that are on their minds without having to second guess themselves, and also “Ding Dang” is playing on an infinite loop.

The last album in this group, Adult /Child, grew out of unfinished songs from the Love You sessions. It has never been released as such, though it has been bootlegged and doled out in pieces on compilations; reportedly, the other Beach Boys found it to be unsuitable, effectively putting an end to Brian’s renewed control of the group. If Love You is a latter day Pet Sounds, then Adult/Child is in some ways like the mirror image of Smile: the abandoned work of the same man on opposite sides of a massive crisis. I haven’t listened to all of the songs. Many that I’ve heard are beautiful; many are as strange or unsettling as anything on Love You. But even when this band is strange or unsettling, the music they make still has the power to move you if you can listen with the right ears.

The Rest (1978-2012)

• M.I.U. Album
• L.A. (Light Album)
• Keepin’ the Summer Alive
• The Beach Boys
• Still Cruisin’
• Summer in Paradise
• Stars and Stripes Volume 1
• That’s Why God Made The Radio

Apart from a smattering of songs here and there, and the final album of the Beach Boys’ collective career, I would not recommend these works to you. I’m not even sure that I can, in a literal sense: some of them are simply unavailable. That’s for the best. The deeper you get on this list, the more cynical and boring the music becomes. “Kokomo” is right in the middle of it, and it’s probably a highlight.

That’s Why God Made the Radio is a special case, coming toward the tail end of a run of solo albums by Brian Wilson that far exceed the quality of what the Beach Boys did in the 1980s and 1990s. It isn’t perfect. Dennis and Carl Wilson died in 1983 and 1998, respectively, and the album is worse off for their absence. There is far more conspicuous Auto-tune on the vocals than necessary. But the songs are mostly there, especially the three at the end.

I can’t tell you very much about the rest. I haven’t listened to them in a long time. I’m not sure I ever listened to Summer in Paradise. The circumstances under which they were made were mostly not inspiring or edifying. I prefer not to think about it too much.

Most likely I’m being unfair. The Beach Boys, all of them, were and are incredibly talented performers, and their best work (which this era is not) will stand forever. The trouble is they were hollowed out creatively, by the forces of the market and their struggles to function effectively as a group. But most groups are not held to the standard of consistently producing progressively better recordings for half a century. So maybe it’s best to pass over the parts I don’t care for and say nothing more.

Another Sandbox

A small hobby of mine is to take the discography of a prolific artist I admire and distill it into a playlist of exactly fifty tracks. I did this for the Beach Boys some time ago, and I gave it the name “Sandbox.” Sandbox has lots of excellent songs on it, but when I thought of which specific songs I would recommend to people who truly want the best of the Beach Boys, I decided it was time to update it. A new playlist, “Another Sandbox”—not so different from the first, but somewhat refined.

My aim was to include at least one track from every studio album through the late 70s; I ended up selecting nothing from Little Deuce Coupe or the Christmas Album. There were a lot of tracks that I left off with great regret, but I believe these 50 give a sense of some of the best music the Beach Boys were capable of making, in various styles and modes and at various points of time. If you’d like to assemble this playlist yourself on the platform of your choosing, here are the tracks in the order I find best.

• This Whole World (Sunflower)
• I Get Around/Little Deuce Coupe-Medley (Beach Boys’ Party!)
• Surfin’ Safari (Surfin’ Safari)
• Celebrate the News (non-album single)
• Help Me, Rhonda (The Beach Boys Today!)
• California Girls (Summer Days (and Summer Nights!!))
• Marcella (Carl and the Passions – “So Tough”)
• Darlin’ (Wild Honey)
• Wouldn’t It Be Nice (Pet Sounds)
• In My Room (Surfer Girl)
• Break Away (non-album single)
• Let Us Go On This Way (The Beach Boys Love You)
• Don’t Worry Baby (Shut Down Volume 2)
• I Went to Sleep (20/20)
• Wake the World (Friends)
• Cool, Cool Water (Sunflower)
• California Saga (California) (Holland)
• Cabin Essence (The Smile Sessions)
• Fun, Fun, Fun (Shut Down Volume 2)
• Good to My Baby (The Beach Boys Today!)
• Slip On Through (Sunflower)
• Be With Me (20/20)
• Hushabye (All Summer Long)
• Please Let Me Wonder (The Beach Boys Today!)
• All I Wanna Do (Sunflower)
• God Only Knows (Pet Sounds)
• My Diane (M.I.U. Album)
• Steamboat (Holland)
• Little Honda (All Summer Long)
• Honkin’ Down the Highway (The Beach Boys Love You)
• Sloop John B (Pet Sounds)
• Sail On, Sailor (Holland)
• Fall Breaks and Back to Winter (Smiley Smile)
• Wind Chimes (The Smile Sessions)
• Busy Doin’ Nothin’ (Friends)
• The Warmth of the Sun (Shut Down Volume 2)
• Our Prayer (The Smile Sessions)
• Feel Flows (Surf’s Up)
• Good Vibrations (The Smile Sessions)
• Deirdre (Sunflower)
• Lady Lynda (L.A. (Light Album))
• Let Him Run Wild (Summer Days (And Summer Nights!!))
• Let the Wind Blow (Wild Honey)
• Just Once In My Life (15 Big Ones)
• ‘Til I Die (Surf’s Up)
• From There To Back Again (That’s Why God Made the Radio)
• Can’t Wait Too Long (unfinished bonus track, various compilations)
• Lonely Sea (Surfin’ U.S.A.)
• Surf’s Up (The Smile Sessions)
• I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times (Pet Sounds)