Brian Wilson Albums (9)
What The Critics Say
That Lucky Old Sun, Brian Wilson's second major thematic work, isn't quite the third coming of SMiLE. Instead, it's an ode to the Southern California of the '50s and '60s that the Beach Boys constantly evoked, and although it's polished with the peak-era production style that Wilson made famous, most of the songs are wrapped around the overwrought pop/rock he's revisited again and again since his first major return to form, back in 1976. As a thematic topic, "That Lucky Old Sun" is ripe for integration into Brian Wilson's California myth-making. A Tin Pan Alley chestnut from the '40s, it contrasts the ease of the sun's transit each day with the hardship of human toil on earth, a sort of "Ol' Man River" set in the sky. (Even better is the fact that it's a professional songwriter's account of working-class life, which dovetails perfectly with the Beach Boys' mythic vision of Southern California and the illusionary aspects of Hollywood's brand of reality.) That Lucky Old Sun begins with Wilson briefly stating the theme and the intonation of a heavenly choir, but then barrels into the first song, "Morning Beat," a rocker with a set of adolescent rhymes (one example: "The sun burns a hole through the 6 a.m. haze/Turns up the volume and shows off its rays"). But wasn't this is supposed to be a collaboration with the great lyricist Van Dyke Parks? Actually, Parks contributes only to a set of spoken narratives, delivered emphatically by Wilson himself, that are interspersed throughout the album and attempt to advance the California panorama from Venice Beach to East L.A. to Hollywood -- as well as frequent stops along Brian Wilson's personal time line. ("How could I have got so low, I'm embarrassed to tell you so/I laid around this old place, I hardly ever washed my face.") That Lucky Old Sun rarely evokes the classic Beach Boys sound, but instead the driving '70s productions on latter-day Beach Boys albums like 15 Big Ones and Love You -- granted, with innumerable production touches that could only have come from the mind of Brian Wilson (ah, the clip-clop of wood blocks!). It's obvious that Wilson was at the center of some of the best and brightest productions of the '60s, but the added assumption about being at the center is that there are integral parts radiating outward. (In Wilson's case, those parts consisted of a superb harmony group with several great lead voices and the on-demand talents of an array of excellent musicians, plus copious engineers and studio technology.) Naturally, his solo career has positioned him at the forefront, which is a very different place than the center and one he's proved himself unwilling and unable to embrace fully. He needs not only talented collaborators but strong lead voices to place alongside his own; an apt comparison at Wilson's age is Burt Bacharach, who would hardly consider writing lyrics as well as music and singing every song on one of his albums. The lack of colleagues who could inform the result of this album -- the lack of Van Dyke Parks in a prominent role or a Carl Wilson or even a Mike Love -- is what makes That Lucky Old Sun assume a place below SMiLE in the pantheon of Brian Wilson's achievements. ~ John Bush, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
The white whale of '60s record-making, the Beach Boys' aborted SMiLE album gradually gained a legend that not only inflated its rumored importance and complexity, but gave credence to an odd notion -- that completing it, then or ever, was impossible. In truth, SMiLE should have been released and forgotten, reissued and reappraised, and finally remastered for the digital era and ushered into the rock canon ever since Brian Wilson halted work on it in May 1967 (after an exhausting 85 recording sessions). Instead, it languished in the vaults and remained the perfect record -- perfect, of course, because it had never been finished. Reports that the recording of "Mrs. O'Leary's Cow" had caused a nearby building to burn down and whispers of "inappropriate music" gave it the character of a monster, one that cursed all those who approached it and claimed the heart and mind of its major participant. Wilson's love of "feels" -- short passages of cyclical music that could be overdubbed and rearranged countless times -- had made 1966's "Good Vibrations" the ultimate pocket symphony, but had also quickly spiralled into the instability that consumed him during its follow-up, "Heroes and Villains," projected to be the centerpiece of SMiLE. Happily, a new recording of SMiLE by Brian Wilson reveals the record as nothing more (or less) than a jaunty epic of psychedelic Americana, a rambling and discursive, playful and affectionate series of song cycles. Infectious and hummable, to be sure, and a remarkably unified, irresistible piece of pop music, but no musical watershed on par with Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band or Wilson's masterpiece, Pet Sounds. For the first time ever, the program for SMiLE was compiled, after Brian Wilson first listened to the original recordings with his musical midwife, Darian Sahanaja of the Wondermints (which has long functioned as Wilson's live backing band), and then worked them into a live show and album recording. The work that evolved divides into three sections: SMiLE begins with Americana, which takes the dream of continental expansion from the old Spanish town saga of "Heroes and Villains" to the landing at Plymouth Rock and, finally, the end of the frontier at Hawaii; it continues with a Cycle of Life that progresses from the virginal grace of "Wonderful" to the simultaneous peak and decline of the creative life on "Surf's Up"; and ends with an environmental cycle called The Elements, which includes "Vega-Tables," (Earth), "Wind Chimes" (Air), "Mrs. O'Leary's Cow" (Fire), and "In Blue Hawaii" (Water). Since Wilson himself was previously the most opposed to SMiLE appearing in any form, it's a considerable shock that this new recording justifies even half of the promise that fans had attached to it. Everything that Wilson and his band could control sounds nearly perfect. Every instrument, every note, and every intonation is nearly identical to the late-'60s tapes; one has to wonder whether vintage hand tools weren't acquired for "Workshop" and Paul McCartney wasn't flown in to add chewing noises to "Vega-Tables." (The players did, however, book time at one of Brian's old haunts, Sunset Sound, and utilized a '60s tube console to record their vocals.) No, the harmonies here aren't the Beach Boys' harmonies, and Brian's vocals aren't the vocals he was capable of 37 years ago, but they're excellent and (best of all) never distracting. Aside from the technical acumen on display, Wilson has also, amazingly, found a home -- the proper home -- for all of the brilliant instrumental snippets that lent the greatest part of the mystery to the unreleased SMiLE. Van Dyke Parks' new (or newly heard) lyrics fit into these compositions, and the work as a whole, like hand in glove. (The former instrumentals include "Barnyard"; "Holiday," which is here called "On a Holiday"; "Look," which is now "Song for Children"; and "I Love to Say Da-Da," which is now part of "In Blue Hawaii.") Most surprisingly, nearly all of this thematic unity was accomplished by merely reworking the original material already on tape, which proves that Wilson was never very far from finishing SMiLE in 1967. (It's very likely that the gulf was psychological; SMiLE had few supporters among Brian's closest friends and family.) Hopefully, Capitol is readying a SMiLE Sessions box set to release all of the vintage material, but it's clear that nothing they dig up from the vaults will be able to match the unity of this attractive recording. It's up to the standards of anyone who's ever scoured the bootlegs to create a SMiLE tape, and further, it beats them all, which is the highest compliment. So, if you've never been burdened with a friend's SMiLE tape before, count yourself lucky that Brian Wilson's is the first you'll hear. And if you have heard a few, prepare to listen to them much less religiously. ~ John Bush, All Music Guide
'Gettin' in Over My Head'
Release Date 1/1/2004
Tracks 13
Label Rhino
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What The Critics Say
Brian Wilson's spotted solo career hasn't seen many highlights. True, Beach Boys fanatics continue to follow his top-this solo tours, which began with the astonishment of merely seeing Wilson perform on-stage and crested with his live run-throughs of the Beach Boys classic Pet Sounds and the legendary Smile (which he'd disavowed on several earlier occasions). As Brian Wilson concertgoers know, although Wilson remains a bundle of nerves while performing, he has found a group of players who are sympathetic to the Brian Wilson legend and also capable of faithfully re-creating the sound of Beach Boys classics. (Credit also goes to the album's recorder and mixer, Mark Linett, who has fine-tuned every single original Beach Boys track as part of Capitol's ongoing reissue campaigns, dating back to the late '80s.) Wilson has still not found a lyrical collaborator who can stand up to him when he writes inane, sophomoric lyrics; whether it's a solo composition or one written with a talented collaborator like Andy Paley, Wilson's songs are trite and rarely delivered with any confidence or evidence of a performing personality. There are two clear highlights on this record. The first is "Soul Searchin'," a Wilson/Paley collaboration from the early '90s that featured a vocal from brother Carl Wilson. (Although Carl died in 1996, Brian built around the vocal track to complete the song.) Although Carl is singing inane lyrics, his soul and emotion rescue the song. That's exactly how Brian Wilson flourished during his salad days, and it's never been more clear that he lacks it now -- "it" being not only musical collaborators, but lyrical collaborators and a lead voice that understands the archetypal emotion behind his teenage symphonies. The other highlight is the title track, a derivative yet beautiful gloss on the classic Pet Sounds style and a rare track where Brian sounds involved and not simply robotic. ~ John Bush, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
In early 2002, during his first solo tour of Europe and England, Brian Wilson included complete performances of his masterpiece Pet Sounds which attempted to re-create, in a live setting, one of the greatest feats of studio wizardry in rock history. He recorded the music heard on Pet Sounds Live over four nights at London's Royal Festival Hall before a crowd packed with luminaries (simply read the liners for a lengthy who's-who list of intelligent pop musicians in attendance). Though he has trouble taking some of the leads he or brother Carl originally sang some 35 years earlier, the backing harmonies are surprisingly good (even in comparison to the nonpareil Beach Boys), and the ten-piece band is marvelous at summoning the necessary range of emotions, following the arrangements closely ("Let's Go Away for Awhile" alone must have taken days to perfect), and adding innumerable little touches for the benefit of those possessing a near-total familiarity with the original. To all this praise, however, must be added the considerable caveat: Wilson's stage presence is still problematic, if not completely bizarre. He still sounds tentative and forced when pressed to live performance, at one point interjecting "Hooray for the audience!" into a blank void; later, it's difficult to tell whether he's joking when he twice announces, "Here's an instrumental, with no voices, okay?" Those who've seen a Wilson concert before won't be surprised at the push-and-pull between clever musicianship and embarrassing showmanship, while curious Pet Sounds fans will find only scattered bits to intrigue them. ~ John Bush, All Music Guide
'Live at the Roxy Theatre'
Release Date 1/1/2000
Tracks 28
Label BriMel
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What The Critics Say
As if to emphasize that Brian Wilson is really in charge of his solo career, Live at the Roxy Theatre, his first live solo album, begins with him instructing to his band and halting a false start before launching into "The Little Girl I Once Knew." And the choice of that leadoff song, a relative commercial disappointment in 1965, alerts listeners that the set will be an attempt to reclaim gems from Wilson's extensive catalog, not necessarily the string of golden oldies that Wilson's former group does at its concerts. Live at the Roxy Theatre certainly boasts Beach Boys favorites, but it touches on all phases of Wilson's career, from the early surf music to the sophisticated compositions that made Pet Sounds a landmark, solo songs from the 1980s and '90s, and even a couple of new tunes and covers (including the Barenaked Ladies' "Brian Wilson"). Wilson's ten-piece backup band, anchored by the members of the Wondermints, effectively recreates the elaborate Beach Boys studio performances and also sings in Beach Boys-like style. One is reminded of the discovery Wilson and the Beach Boys made in the mid-'60s, when they began touring and recording without each other: the Beach Boys' sound is really more a function of the vocal arrangements than of particular singers. And listening to the mix of selections, one must recognize that this is music of a single sensibility. Anyone familiar with Wilson's life may be surprised that he is as enthusiastic and involved in this concert as he is. In truth, the old slogan "Brian's back!" has been true for a number of years now, and though he remains an idiosyncratic frontman, this recording confirms it. Live at the Roxy Theatre presents Wilson in good voice for a 57-year-old (even the falsetto is pretty sturdy), with a strong band and an enthusiastic audience, performing some of the best compositions of his career. It makes both a good introduction to Wilson's work and a satisfying summation for longtime fans. (Live at the Roxy Theatre was released exclusively through Brian Wilson's website, www.brianwilson.com.) ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
As his second official solo album, Imagination is a stronger record than its predecessor. Brian Wilson is singing better and his writing is more assured, filled with gorgeous arrangements that others may replicate but never quite match. That doesn't quite erase the suspicion that it could have been better, however. Sessions with the respected power pop producer Andy Paley were hailed as Wilson's best material in years, though the collaboration didn't happen. Wilson, allegedly on the advice of his wife, decided to work with Joe Thomas, a former wrestler determined to make inroads in the music business. Thomas steered Wilson toward a slick, overly produced sound straight out of the late '80s, filled with sterile surfaces and synthesizers that hide the genuine musical attributes of the album. Listen closely and it's possible to hear a handful of songs that are startlingly beautiful. Wilson's writing may not be as magical as his '60s peak, but there are moments that soar, from the lovely "Cry" to the sunny choruses of "South America" to the affecting "Lay Down Burden" to the layered, avant- pop "Happy Days." Songs such as these, however, accentuate the weaknesses of other parts of the album -- namely the lyrics. Such lyricists as Jimmy Buffet, Carole Bayer Sager, and J.D. Souther collaborated with Wilson on these songs, contributing surpassingly banal words, perhaps in an attempt to capture the sweet naïveté of classic Beach Boys songs. They didn't need to try so hard -- Wilson can come close enough on his own. All he needs is collaborators that realize that and not force him into areas, whether it's musical or lyrical, that he needn't tread. The best parts of Imagination prove that he can spin enough magic on his own terms. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
'Orange Crate Art'
Release Date 1/1/1995
Tracks 12
Label Warner Bros.
See Album Tracklist and Review
'I Just Wasn't Made for These Times'
Release Date 1/1/1995
Tracks 11
Label MCA
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What The Critics Say
The soundtrack for a Don Was-produced documentary about the life and music of Brian Wilson, I Just Wasn't Made for These Times is a collection of new versions of Wilson's classic Beach Boys material. While most of the versions don't compare with the original recordings, the album remains a testament to the beauty of his work. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Brian Wilson's first solo album created a good share of media hoopla upon its release. This was not necessarily because of the music, but simply because his very existence -- or, at least, proof of his existence via his first fully engaged recording project in about a decade -- was greeted as a cause for celebration. Although it did not shift tons of units, it did spark a landslide of ecstatic-to-charitable reviews, largely because so many critics were eager to latch on to any evidence that Wilson's musical genius was intact. Viewed more coldly after the hype has faded, this self-titled release is an odd, flawed creation, certainly leagues above the Beach Boys' post-1970s output, yet certainly leagues below Wilson's best work with that group in the 1960s. While he retained his gift for catchy melodies and dense, symphonic production, there was a forced stiffness to both the songwriting and execution. Much of the blame for the album's mixed success can be laid upon its sterile, synthesizer-laden arrangements and echoing percussion, which epitomized some of the less attractive aspects of late-1980s production. However, the songs were not among Wilson's best either, their hooks pleasant but easily fading from memory, the lyrics full of ambiguous romantic optimism that was totally belied by the nervous, mannered vocals. The concluding eight-minute suite, "Rio Grande," was a self-conscious and, again, only partially successful attempt to match the grandeur of the miniature conceptual pieces Wilson was penning in the Smile era. For all that, it remains the best album of Wilson's solo career, principally because he has recorded so little material since then, and written even less. The 2000 Warner Archives/Rhino reissue adds more than a dozen bonus tracks, including demos, backing tracks, and alternates of songs from the album. ~ Richie Unterberger, All Music Guide
