Thoughts on Brian Wilson Solo Material

I always had this idyllic picture of Brian’s solo career before I actually started delving in. I imagined that surely, here must be all the great works that he’d always wanted to do but was hampered by the other guys, or the Beach Boy image/brand. Sadly, the deeper into his discography I ventured, the more I have to admit that it largely isn’t very good. Perhaps on some level he lost the old spark to age, mental illness and Eugene Landy’s drug cocktails. On the other hand, it’s certainly true that poor choice of collaborators has something to do with his disappointing output post-’77, from Landy himself to the dreaded Joe “autotune” Thomas. Only Andy Paley seemed worthy to work with the big guy, and even he was no Tony Asher or VDP. (We’ll get to that soon.)

On the most basic fundamental level, Brian’s biggest issue is management. I believe more often than not, Brian isn’t inspired when making at least half of these solo projects; he’s goaded into it by those around him. Landy did it for the fame and money, while Melinda seem to prefer keeping Brian occupied. She means well and it’s debatably for the best as far as Brian’s mental health concerned, but nevertheless, I sense that Brian’s (as often as not) disinterested in making great albums anymore. I see this reflected in the often subpar performances on much of his solo work, from lackluster arrangements to bland vocal performances. As I’ve seen others say, when Brian cares about a project, you can hear it. The Paley Sessions and That Lucky Old Sun (TLOS) are perhaps the best examples of this. When Brian couldn’t be bothered because he’s just going through the motions, either for a paycheck or to please those around him, you can hear that too.

More than the performances though, it just doesn’t sound like the same muse anymore from Brian Wilson (1988 solo album) on to the present for me. He doesn’t have that same offbeat sincerity to his music which I loved so much in SMiLE, Smiley Smile, “Busy Doin’ Nothing,” “Mt Vernon and Fairway,” as well as Love You. Nor does he have that universal angst and longing from Today, Pet Sounds and the countless earlier hits either. In the modern era, Brian sounds reigned in, manufactured, and attempting to fit into the commercial sensibilities of the times. That’s understandable and his right to do, but it was never his modus operandi before and it’s not what I personally love about his music.

In the ’60s, Brian seemed out to top the competition and make the best music ever. In the ’70s, there was nothing left to prove, so he just did what he wanted damn it all what anyone thought. Adult/Child isn’t exactly my cup of tea, but at least it’s different and feels like something from the heart. Say what you will about the “Bronze Age” of the Beach Boys discography from the very late ’70s and ’80s, but it took serious guts to release a song like “My Diane” for one. Beginning in 1988 though, it sounds like he’s trying to fit in with the trends and fads as they come. I’m not sure if this is conscious on Brian’s part, or if it’s his collaborators and managers pushing it, but I strongly suspect the latter. Either way, I hate it, and the music suffers because of it. If there’s one artist who deserves to be left alone to do what he genuinely wants and nothing more, it’s good ol’ Brian.

I won’t bother delving into Imagination or any of the other Brian Wilson/Joe Thomas collaborations in depth because I’d just be reiterating the same points again and again. (Which includes: autotune, bland production, uninspired arrangements, forgettable lyrics, tired subject matter, songs feel unfinished, no interesting hooks or melodies, etc.) There is one particular example of his solo work that I have a lot to say about, however, because it’s emblematic of the problem in a way the others are not…

No Pier Pressure

Nowhere do the issues of Brian’s solo career seem to manifest themselves more than in the infamous No Pier Pressure, with its endless guest artists, as if to prove to the world that Brian Wilson is a big deal and worth paying attention to. (Or perhaps to the other Beach Boys as a “hey, you missed out fellas! Look who I can get to work with me instead!”) But the thing is, there’s no need to prove that to anyone who matters. It’s like a mid-life crisis in musical production form, trying to impress the young cool kids that you’re still “with it.” It fascinates me to hear the conflicting tales of what this album was supposed to be during production, with one source saying it might have been three albums due to the various styles, but then Joe Thomas calling it the final piece in Brian’s three-part “Life Suite” with the other two being Pet Sounds and SMiLE. (This unintentionally ties in with the “musical mid-life crisis” I just described aside from opening up unfavorable comparisons to the man’s crowning achievements. What a cynical, cheap attempt to pull rank too.) 

Thomas’ remarks are insulting in that they disregard Brian’s actual legacy. I think Brian already created a Life Suite with his work as a Beach Boy. The pre-’65 albums are the “kid stuff” Thomas claims Pet Sounds is. Today and Pet Sounds are a teenager’s mind set to music. SMiLE and Smiley Smile represent the bold experimentation only a young man in his 20’s could truly pull off. And then the scattered ’70s stuff, especially Love You and Adult/Child reflect that more adult-looking-back, nothing-to-prove-anymore perspective. (I mean, he’s literally singing about taking care of a baby, how much more “adult” does it get, Joe?) As I laid out above, once you reach the solo material, including this, that Life Suite ends along with any sense of growth or experimentalism. No way in hell is NPP representative of the final stage in Brian’s evolution as an artist, much less the equal in stature to PS and SMiLE. Listening to the album itself, I find it hard to believe these lofty heights were even the intent of Brian while making it either. I think the association with his two most highly praised works represents empty hype as well as a means to shame critics into silence. (IE “this is the man who created the best albums ever, who are you to criticize him!?”)

I vividly remember the circus on the SmileySmile forum when this thing finally dropped. That was when things really started unwinding at that place for a bunch of reasons. I won’t get into specifics but it really showed us who’s a fan and who’s a fanboy in the Beach Boy circles. For me, the distinction is that fans are those who appreciate the music for their own personal tastes, and thus they aren’t afraid to say when something doesn’t hold up to that special aesthetic they expect from a musician, whatever that means to them. Meanwhile, the fanboys are those who will blindly praise whatever an artist (or company brand) releases, simply because it has their name on it and they’ve built their identity around being a “fan.” (You can also see this trend in modern Star Wars among other media franchises, as well as Apple or Nintendo brand-apologists, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Brian was well within his rights to send a certain Facebook message expressing his hurt feelings at fan reactions to the guest vocalists…but we fans were also within our rights to voice dissatisfaction in the first place. That’s what it means to be a public figure releasing media for mass consumption and it’s unfair to shame us into silence. I dislike being compared to those that told him not to “f*** with the formula” all those years ago. It’s not stifling creativity to criticize something in good faith–sometimes it’s necessary for artists to get constructive feedback so they can grow. I think that message was a very deliberate PR move to call back to his magnum opus, and give the defenders an emotional rallying cry to bludgeon us skeptics with. While I can’t be sure, I have my suspicions it was written by someone else on his PR team; the wording was too deliberately crafted, calling back to the most infamous moment in BB history and Brian doesn’t seem media savvy enough for that. I bring all this up with the cynical brand management and subsequent fallout because for me it’s all part of the album and my feelings surrounding it. 

As for the actual music itself…it’s not terrible. It’s not unlistenable or offensive to the ears…for the most part. It’s just bland as dry white bread. Like Orange Crate Art (his and VDP’s disappointing as hell second collaboration), it sounds like something you’d hear playing at the mall over the loudspeakers in a Yankee Candle shop. It makes me feel like I’m trapped behind the cash register at Sears again, listening to the same 5 generic songs on loop, or browsing some tacky gift shop at an airport. Not quite the mental image an artist of this caliber would want to convey, huh? It doesn’t even sound like Brian Wilson, it sounds like someone TRYING to write like Brian Wilson–and those are the good songs! The bad ones sound like an old, generic, easy listening artist. It might as well be anyone. It doesn’t gel at all as a unified package. It sounds like a series of outtakes–from a variety of different artists no less–crammed into one throwaway Now That’s What I Call Music package. It sounds like something you’d find in the bargain bin at Walmart, or the back-shelf cutout bin at a used record store, buy one get one free, with the curator begging you profusely to take it off his hands. 

I have to agree with the critical consensus–this is Brian Wilson in name only. He’s an afterthought on his own album, with even the arrangements lacking his creative punch. I truly believe, especially after listening, that his managers and collaborators did most of the work, had him do some vocals, slapped his name on the cover and called it a day. And if I’m wrong, all I can say is maybe Brian should retire from writing new material, because it’s just sad to see the most innovative pop musician of all time descend into producing this soulless dreck. I’m sorry if that’s harsh, but hearing the man who gave us Pet Sounds, SMiLE and Love You reduced to recording hotel lobby music like this is just too much to bear. Any of you guys seen Angry Beavers, the Nickelodeon cartoon? Well, this is like when Norbert meets Treeflower again, and instead of a free spirited hippy chick, she’s now a corporate suit LITERALLY playing elevator music for a meager living. Basically a real life “Caroline No” situation, with Brian as the proverbial light of my life who’s now changed for the worst.

I will say, I absolutely love the cover art and title. It’s the best titled and covered solo album Brian has ever had, as well as the best for any Beach Boy related project since Holland. I could see that coming off as a backhanded compliment but I do genuinely appreciate these aspects of LPs as much as anything else. However, the title does indeed come off as ironic considering I firmly believe this project was largely pushed by his management and collaborators. The cover too is wasted here. The picture is bad ass and vaguely foreboding. It makes me feel as though we’re about to see the hidden underbelly of something that, on the surface, initially appeared harmless. Like, we’re journeying somewhere dangerous that goes unnoticed to those walking on the pier above, and we might not like what we find. It doesn’t belong adorning this safe, boring, whitewashed product. (Notice I didn’t say art, nor music but commercial product.)

The Highlights

As far as Brian’s solo work outside of the Joe Thomas albums…. Well, they don’t tend to do much for me either. Brian Wilson ’88 isn’t bad but it left zero impression on me. I don’t get the praise for songs like “Love and Mercy” which I personally find lukewarm compared to what I know the man is capable of. The unreleased follow-up, Sweet Insanity is a scatterbrained and exhausting series of unrelated tunes which don’t gel into a unified whole. It also contains the worst song Brian ever made, “Smart Girls” that may or may not have been recorded in good faith. (If it wasn’t a self-aware joke, then holy moly…)

The reunion with Van Dyke Parks that gave us Orange Crate Art was severely disappointing, and I can’t remember a single song despite just listening to it a few days ago. I’m not a fan of Van’s non-SMiLE work, a few tracks aside (love “Palm Desert” from Song Cycle for some reason), so I’m inclined to believe he was calling the shots this time around while Brian was too uninspired to contribute much. Compare that to 1966 where both men were on the same page, firing on all cylinders, purposefully setting out to make the best album ever.

Brian Wilson Presents SMiLE and That Lucky Old Sun are the exceptions to Brian’s post-’80s mediocrity, albeit with a few caveats.

While BWPS was a huge deal to me when I first heard it, its allure is completely eclipsed by the far more beautiful Beach Boy sessions, unfinished though they may be. It was a big deal when it was released I’m sure, and I’m thankful for the positive effect it seems to have had on the man himself as well as serving as a natural capstone to his entire career. But the boxset and multitude of fan-mixes (especially my own) have largely rendered it irrelevant, because the musicianship and vocals are just so inferior. Any time I’m in the mood to hear the SMiLE music, I’ll listen to the various spectacular fan-mixes that use the 2011 boxset as their audio source, and if push comes to shove, I’d even prefer listening to the old Purple Chick and Mok SMiLE mixes (even though they use the grainy bootleg recordings) as opposed to BWPS itself. The old ’60s recordings are just so much better in every way–it’s like comparing the original Music Man with Robert Preston to the bland Matthew Broderick remake.

The BWPS tracklist has some serious flaws as well, and I’ve gone into the issues with that as part of my SMiLE thesis. While not as terribly produced as Brian’s other solo stuff, it still sounds too clean and sterilized for my liking. The older sessions had an air of mystery if not foreboding to them. Despite the cheerful name and occasional humor, there was a certain haunting melancholic quality that makes those ’66 recordings endlessly fascinating. BWPS seems whitewashed, like all the psychedelia and spirituality of the ’66 version has been stripped away for a family friendly product. It strikes me as a cynical, commoditized betrayal of the original’s themes. The new lyrics are noticeably lacking and the new names for various tracks are generic and cutesy. (“Look” became “Song for Children,” “Do You Like Worms” became “Roll Plymouth Rock,” “Love to Say Dada” became “In Blue Hawaii” thus losing that LSD initialism). The new version of “Wonderful” doesn’t use a real harpsichord, the new CIFOTM’s bass notes are muted (which were a big part of the song’s appeal in the original) while the guy who says “You’re Under Arrest” in the new “Heroes and Villains” sounds bored and directionless.

BWPS is a halfhearted effort that probably sounded great live if you were part of the moment, but as a timeless work of art meant to stand in the place of its famous namesake, it comes up infinitely short. It feels like Brian couldn’t be bothered to make sure everything was perfect as his younger, ambitious self would’ve; the prevailing attitude nowadays is “eh, good enough.” Still, I reiterate that this project was important in terms of Brian regaining his confidence and serves as the feather in his career’s cap, so to speak. It gives every biography or biopic (except Love and Mercy for some bizarre reason) the perfect triumph to resolve on: that Brian finally conquered his demons and “finished” his crowning achievement. But for me, that’s all that really holds up about it. It was a special moment in time for the fans who got to be there, but there’s no reason to buy the actual CD anymore.

That Lucky Old Sun is fantastic though. It’s the last truly dynamic Brian moment since he went solo, a great album which managed to slip by his handlers’ stifling touch, and we ought to be grateful for that. It feels to me like this was the culmination of the upbeat, continuous-suite of fun happy music to which BWPS served as a rough draft. I get the impression this is the project Brian really wanted to make but he was told “not until you finish the big guns, Brian! SMiLE will sell out stadiums worldwide! Think of the headlines!” so he forced the old ’66 material into this “song suites” paradigm he was clearly into at the time. TLOS is the only officially released Brian Wilson solo project I’d recommend going out of your way to check out. But notice the qualifier “officially released” in that statement. You see, there’s another great moment from Brian’s solo years which, like SMiLE, was tragically left unfinished and officially unreleased. It’s also my favorite thing he’s done since Love You by far…

The Paley Sessions

Holy cow everybody, Brian’s Back!!! (Not really because this was recorded 20 years ago!) But seriously, you have NO IDEA how fresh, authentic, endearing and just plain fun this bootleg was to listen to after suffering through a bunch of Joe Thomas and Eugene Landy produced, auto-tuned crap. And this does indeed make all the rest of his solo projects (besides, again, BWPS/TLOS) sound like sleepwalking in comparison. Honestly, I haven’t been this enamored with “new” Brian material since the first time I heard Love You…maybe even the first time I heard the SMiLE boots. 

A good portion of the songs need some work, but there’s a very strong foundation for a great album here. I picture a “suite” of the city living and songs about women on a hypothetical Side 1, with Mary being our narrator’s recurring love interest. Such a suite/side could probably begin with “Proud Mary” and end with “Everything I Need I Find in You.” Then Side 2 could have the introspective stuff, kicking off with “Gettin’ in Over My Head” as well as the lullaby/dream stuff. The whole thing could end with “Slightly American Music.” I’d like to listen some more and really play around with a complete sequence at some point, maybe even put together a “fan mix” to that effect.

This might be a bold assertion, but as far as I’m concerned, these are the SMiLE Sessions of Brian’s solo career. Just a great, inspired collection of tunes made with a collaborator who truly stimulated him intellectually and you can hear it for yourself. Unfortunately, similar to that more famous abandoned work, another Beach Boy (this time Carl) put the kibosh on this burgeoning album as well. Fragments wound up on other albums, but the beautiful whole that could have been will never be finished. And unlike SMiLE, it’s too late to hope for a revisit and completion in this case. Ah well, maybe we’ll get a boxset someday. Seriously though, Carl sabotaged this in favor of a lame country western rerecording of their greatest hits (the same 12-odd songs repackaged for the dozenth time even then I might add)–what the hell was he smoking?? 

Hearing this after wondering if Brian was replaced with a body double in ’88 due to all the mediocre material was both beautiful and sad. Sad because it proves that the man did indeed still have the talent to make great albums into the modern era…he just never found the right collaborator ever again. This makes you want to curse the cruel fate that caused Brian to meet Joe Thomas, and wish that Melinda (for all the good she’s done him personally) would either butt out of his career or else get her ears examined cause this autoune crap ain’t it. This is the ultimate proof that genuine analog recordings, warts and all, are miles and miles better than digital “enhancements” with the rough edges filed down. Brian working with Joe Thomas is like Da Vinci working with one of those modern hacks who just smear elephant dung on a canvas and call it “art.”

I’d strongly recommend “Getting in Over My Head” and “Everything I Need I Find in You” particularly. They’re the first and last tracks in the bootleg I first heard, respectively. The latter is an adorable duet between Brian and his daughter–she’s not a technically great singer but the sincerity she brings to the equation more than justifies the choice. The former is like a weird pseudo-grunge song from the LY sessions; it’s Brian’s usual sentimentality with a somewhat harder edge. The arrangement makes you feel like you’re trudging up a series of arduous hills on the way to a promising destination. All the excitement, anxiety and hardship in love is here, expressed in a manner you don’t typically see in songs of this subject matter; it’s pure Brian Wilson and I love everything about it. Sadly, this material will never get the final production polish it needed to be among his best work. ’90s era Brian could’ve tackled this material and done it justice, but now he’s just too old and unambitious anymore–the moment has long since passed. But then, Brian’s career (and life, really) is full of bad luck and heartbreak. He deserved better and so do we.