The Beach Boys’ Endless Autumn Part 2
The Reprise Years (1970-1975)
With the Beach Boys’ almost entirely new sound and subsequent dwindling sales (despite a minor hit with 20/20’s “Do It Again”) Capitol Records decided to drop the Beach Boys from their label and let them coast into irrelevance somewhere else. The Boys quickly rebounded by signing to Reprise and got to work on a new album…
Sunflower (1970)
After a few false starts, and a couple of different album titles and track listings, Reprise finally OK’d Sunflower. And how could they not? Sunflower is the most uniformly strong Beach Boys album since Pet Sounds. More than ever, Sunflower represented a group effort. Everyone joins in with a handful of tracks.
My preferences are for Dennis Wilson’s contributions of “Slip On Through,” “Got To Know Woman” and “Forever.” “Slip On Through” (streaming below), a rollicking, soulful barnburner that oscillates between a vaguely psychedlic verse and an all out show-stopping chorus without ever falling out of it’s on-the-offbeat pocket, especially impresses. This is perhaps Dennis’ finest achievement and it’s given its proper due by kicking off this exceptional album.
Bruce Johnston comes through in a big way with “Deirdre,” a throwback track that boasts as much good-natured cheesiness as it does lovely vocals, and “Tears In The Morning,” a wicked schmaltzy track that pairs accordion with Latin guitar and a cinematic string section. The two tracks have some stylistic drawbacks, but the songwriting is surprisingly strong and the harmonies sound as good as ever.
The Brian Wilson/Mike Love music and lyrics combo shows up three times on this album with extremely strong results. “Add Some Music To Your Day” is a feel good “everything is nice” song that gives each Beach Boy a verse and shows their strength at group singing with it’s big sweeping chorus. “All I Wanna Do” is an exceptionally strong track with a heavily effect-laden Mike Love vocal performance and a Byrdsian guitar line. “All I Wanna Do” is one of the true high points of Brian Wilson’s post-breakdown songwriting. Finally, “Cool Cool Water” closes the album with a suite-like composition that recalls many of the finest SMiLE tracks. Love’s bass singing was always a favorite of mine, and it’s in fine form here. “Cool Cool Water” is a lovely experimental track that sounds like it could be a great Animal Collective track today. Brian goes solo on “This Whole World” (streaming below), another feel good track that hits all the sweet spots and really shines on this album.
Sunflower was recognized - mostly by the British press who always appreciated the Beach Boys more than the Americans - as a stunning return to form. Of course, record buyers still didn’t care and the band was once again ignored in spite of a strong artistic achievement.
Surf’s Up (1971)
Often considered the very finest of all post-Pet Sounds Beach Boys albums, Surf’s Up was a laborious and divisive project. A rift between Brian Wilson and his band mates over song usage ended up being a major blessing in disguise. Wilson wanted to include his song “’Til I Die” on the album, much to the dismay of his band mates, who apparently weren’t impressed with the song’s ode to depression. The rest of the band wanted to use “Surf’s Up,” the masterful SMiLE leftover that may be the finest Beach Boys song ever produced, as the album’s catalyst. Brian Wilson, who was in no mood to relive the failures of the ill-fated album, balked at the idea of the song’s inclusion on the album. Finally, Wilson agreed to allow “Surf’s Up” to appear on the album as long as “’Til I Die” was also included. It’s a win-win situation in the end because both songs are staggering works of art.
Brian Wilson talks of “feeling small” and insignificant when he wrote “’Til I Die.” The song essentially marks the de facto point where Wilson made his exit from the real-world and, essentially, the world of songwriting. The lyrics are drenched in melancholy, but the sweeping production makes it a gorgeous lament. Even better, of course, is the title track, a song so strong and complex that it often seems too good for the album. The song is the pinnacle of the collaboration between Wilson and lyricist Van Dyke Parks, two certifiable geniuses that had plenty of brilliant songs both together and separately. The song exists beyond the realm of hyperbole and truly takes an immensely strong album into the stratosphere.
Elsewhere, Bruce Johnston delivers “Disney Girls (1957),” another schmaltzy 50’s throwback salvaged by a lovely arrangement and Johnston’s terrific vocal performance. Both Mike Love and Al Jardine contribute a pair of forgettable protest songs seperately (Jardine’s “Lookin’ At Tomorrow (A Welfare Song)” and Love’s grating take on “Student Demonstration Time”) and together (“Take A Load Off Your Feet”). However, the two also teamed up on the environmentally conscious album opener “Don’t Go Near The Water” (streaming below). The song boasts multiple lyrical disasters, but its sheer oddness (especially on the delightfully yelped second verse) make it a true original and a personal favorite. “Water’s” content may be dated, but the musical and vocal performance could happily exist on any modern indie album and be a major highlight.
After such a strong showing on Sunflower, it’s perplexing that Dennis Wilson makes no writing contribution on Surf’s Up. Youngest Wilson brother, Carl, however, more than picks up the slack with his pair of songs, the ultimate blue-eyed soul of “Long Promised Road” (streaming below), and the cool, atmospheric “Feel Flows.” The former track contains so many brilliant little moments, from the big, farting keyboards, to the little guitar solo that kicks in after the song’s final chorus, but the true highlight is when Carl’s voice builds out of the second verse. His voice is low and up front in your earphones as he laments life’s difficulties, until suddenly a snare cracks and Carl’s voice builds until he kicks into full white soul mode, throwing off all the shackles that are binding him down. This one’ll be sure to pick up your spirits, the ultimate MO of the Beach Boys.
The effect laden “Feel Flows” contains what is arguably the strongest melody any non-Brian Beach Boy had come up with by that point and it’s the late era Beach Boy song that holds up very best (yes, even with an extended flute solo). “Feel Flows” (streaming below) is often considered a sequel to “Good Vibrations” and the assessment makes perfect sense, “Feel Flows” has all the psychedelic flourishes of the day, but it remains palatable (which is perhaps where Smiley Smile goes wrong). Between Dennis’ work on Sunflower and Carl’s work on Surf’s Up, the Beach Boys’ future was starting to look bright again.
Carl & The Passions – So Tough (1972)
With Brian’s dwindling contributions to the band (remember, he was once the sole contributor, by Surf’s Up he was down to writing less than a third of the songs) and Bruce Johnston’s departure for a solo career, the Beach Boys began looking elsewhere. Soon they hired on a pair of South Africans in drummer Ricky Fataar (who is perhaps most famous for playing “Stig” in the Rutles) and guitarist Blondie Chaplin, both from the group The Flames.
The new blood paired with the decision to move away from the “Beach Boys sound” led to Carl & The Passions, a side project of sorts, that took an early name of the band’s and stripped the Beach Boys sound down to rootsy rock, not to mention a few genre exercises. The ensuing album, So Tough, is one of the worst regarded Beach Boys albums of all time.
Some of the ire is justifiable. The album’s first side is a tough struggle. Album opener “You Need A Mess Of Help To Stand Alone” is mostly forgettable, despite an admirable vocal performance from Carl Wilson and some terrific banjo work. Likewise, Al Jardine and Mike Love strike out again with their spiritually-minded gospel exercise “He Come Down,” which contains some the worst lyrical verses the pair ever wrote, which is saying something. A pretty chorus is not enough to save this clunker. “Marcella,” a Brian Wilson track rumored to be about a Hollywood prostitute he used to visit, is highly regarded among Wilson’s completist fans, but the track barely holds up to Wilson’s other compositions. It’s nothing terrible, but it sure ain’t memorable.
The bluesy Fataar/Chaplin piece, “Here She Comes” fairs slightly better by being a totally foreign sound for the Beach Boys (almost sounding like Steely Dan), but the smooth rock sounds can’t withstand its five-minute run time. Cut this baby in half and it’s an album highlight.
The two new Beach Boys fare far better on their Side 2 opener, “Hold On Dear Brother” (streaming below) which sets itself a part from the rest of the Beach Boys’ catalogue by being a friggin’ country song! Who would have thought that a lap steel and lilting drumbeat would mesh so wonderfully with those pristine Beach Boy harmonies? It’s a treat for those who have a place in their heart for Gram Parsons and his staggering artistic achievements. It’s a total shock to hear this kind of sound on a Beach Boys album, especially since it sounds like nothing they had done or would ever do again, but it’s much, much more than a mere genre exercise, it’s a show-stopping career highlight.
Dennis Wilson comes through in a big way on the back end of So Tough, with a pair of stunning, raspy voiced ballads. The symphonic swells of “Make It Good” nearly overshadow an emotional, heart-bearing Wilson vocal (for some reason, the Beach Boys decided to push Dennis’ hoarse voice into the background, while the maudlin instrumentation were pushed to the front), but the beauty of the song endures. Same goes for Dennis’ other major contribution, “Cuddle Up” (streaming below). The musical melodrama is forced upon the listener, but Wilson’s touching lyrics and broken vocals are too good to ignore.
The Jardine/Love message song collaboration shows up once again on So Tough. Luckily, for every cheeseball stinker (Friends’ “Transcendental Meditation,” this album’s “He Come Down”), there’s one that manages to connect with the listener (Surf’s Up’s “Don’t Go Near The Water”). “All This Is That” contains a lovely and mild production, plus some very tender vocal performances. The song’s refrain “I am that, Thou art that, All this is that” is some bullshit eastern philosophy mumbo jumbo, but it sounds peaceful and the song might actually work in the way that Jardine and Love intended.
It’s a mixed bag, but Carl & The Passions – So Tough is not without its terrific moments. Much of it is flawed greatness (specifically Dennis’ muddy ballads), but some of the lesser songs are mere filler, which is forgivable. If nothing else, So Tough is worth a listen for the genre exercises, especially the lost and forgotten “Hold On Dear Brother.”
Holland (1973)
To follow up the Beach Boys’ unsuccessful Carl & The Passions – So Tough, Reprise quite inexplicably gave the band a huge recording budget. The band, minus the MIA Brian Wilson, of course, packed up and headed to Amsterdam to record this album. The hope was that Holland was to be the album that put the Beach Boys back on top. It failed, barely scraping the bottom rung of the top 40.
Holland is, in retrospect, a fairly bloated, self-serious album that even the most ardent Beach Boys fan would consider a slog. It is far better served by (a) separating the wheat from the chaff and (b) listening to the better songs on an individual basis.
Blondie Chaplin takes lead vocals on album opener “Sail On, Sailor” (streaming below). The group-written track is unapologetic, glorious yacht rock - so smooth that you would think that Loggins & Messina had a hand in it. The forced rhyme scheme of the bridge (sample line: “Stop the crying / And the lying / And the sighing / And my dying”) is laughably bad, but Chaplin’s delivery is a lot of fun. In the end, “Sailor” pushes the swinging piano rock into the sublime. It sounds nothing remotely like any other Beach Boys songs (well, maybe a bit like “Here She Comes”), but “Sail On, Sailor” may be the greatest late-era Chicago song ever written.
After the pretty good “Steamboat,” the environmentally conscious songwriting duo of Mike Love and Al Jardine rears its ugly head again with the 10-minute three song suite of “California Saga.” The Love/Jardine batting average stays consistent with the harmonica-laced folk waltz “Big Sur” (streaming below) really surprising. The song opens with an ominous piano lead that proves to be a running theme throughout the suite. Fifteen seconds in, a casual, far more light-hearted piano bounce kicks in. The song builds with harmonica and slide guitar while Love delivers a casual vocal performance. The song returns to its minor key on the closing decrescendo and if you stopped the album right there you would be immensely pleased with the song you just heard…
…Unfortunately “The Beaks of Eagles” follows and absolutely derails the album. This Jardine family turd features cringe-inducing spoken word verses that talk about, I don’t know, eagle insest and shit like that. Even a fairly strong chorus can’t salvage this fucking trainwreck. If you ever come across this album, sequence the album as if this hippie stink doesn’t exist.
“California,” as its title might suggest, is a desperate attempt at an early 60s throwback. It can be commended for its John Steinbeck reference. In terms of forced nostalgia, however, it’s more “forced” than “nostalgia.”
“The Trader” is another great example of Carl’s terrific blue-eyed soul, but it does seem to overstay its welcome. Chaplin’s funkless Stevie Wonder impression on “Leaving This Town” fares worse at a seemingly endless six minutes. The album is nearly redeemed, however, by Carl Wilson’s beautiful and awesome performance on “Only With You,” a touching ballad that improves with every listen, and Brian’s “Funky Pretty,” which really cooks and points to the proto-synth pop the band would get into over the next couple of albums.
Like clockwork, the album fizzled. This time the band took it as a major sign that their newly recorded output was not being welcomed. The band responded by focusing on touring and playing the old favorites for the crowds that would have none of these roots rock diversions. The Beach Boys decided they fared better as an oldies act than anything else (the huge success of the 1974 greatest hits comp certainly cemented that notion).
Holland is not an amazing album, but I quite like much of what it offers. Brian, Dennis and Carl all remain consistently strong in their writing while the remaining band members struggle for inspiration. Sometimes they hit and sometimes they don’t. Holland has a bit of both.