Happy Birthday Brian Wilson

My first real encounter with Brian Wilson’s music was in Berlin when Pet Sounds was performed as an encore at an avant-garde jazz concert. The haunting, beguiling, Pet Sounds melody was played on saxophone (John Zorn) as well as guitar (Bill Frisell) with the extraordinary musicians of Naked City performing the rest of the piece (Fred Frith on bass, Wayne Horvitz on keyboard, and Joey Baron on drums). I still get chills thinking about it. After an evening of unbridled sonic experimentation and musical stylistic turbulence, John Zorn said, “Ok, you’ve made it this far. Now for some candy. This next one is by Brian Wilson, musical genius.”

This is one of the reasons that the Pet Sounds album has interested me over time—the inclusion of animal sounds. A door was beginning to open in popular music which included vocalizations from the more-than-human world.

Musical genius? The Beach Boys? Until that time I had only known the Beach Boys as a band that was just about cars and commercialism and general vapidness. I did not know the full story of Brian Wilson. Not by any means.

As the Pet Sounds music unfurled in the Berlin club, the hair stood up on the back of my neck. I remember the red, orange, and yellow lights illuminating the musicians onstage, but something else as well— the simple but subtle chord progressions and the vibrant instrumental colors which added their own kind of sonic rainbows to the darkened room. And there was the particular bittersweet emotion that goes with the song, (and as I would learn later, much of Brian Wilson’s music…)

I would encounter his music again when I studied music composition at the University of Michigan. My colleagues were raving about the release of the Pet Sounds Sessions, which included instrumental versions of the song tracks. I picked up the recording immediately and was amazed at all of the instrumental colors.

I loved the spirit of invention. The keyboards were gorgeous, the recording hall beautifully resonant, the musicians superb (the famed “Wrecking Crew”). I loved the guitar sound. It turns out that Pet Sounds, the title track, was originally destined to be in a James Bond film. It never quite made it into the movies, but the ghost of the characteristic James Bond guitar sound is still there. I also loved the bass sound and performance of Carole Kaye (geeky fun fact— she’s from Everett, WA. I’m always intrigued about musicians who hailed from the Pacific NW— Carole Kay, Jimi Hendrix, Lou Harrison, Esperanza Spalding…)

And how many unusual instruments appeared in the song arrangements: bass harmonica, bicycle horns, Coke cans, piano strings plucked by a bobby pin, accordions, water jugs— even the sounds of Brian Wilson’s dogs, Banana and Louie, who appear on the final track of the Pet Sounds album “Caroline, No”.

This is one the of the reasons that the Pet Sounds album has interested me over time—the inclusion of animal sounds. A door was beginning to open in popular music which included vocalizations from the more-than-human world. For example, the Shangri-Las included the voices of seagulls and the sound of ocean surf in the 1964 song “Walkin’ in the Sand”. And then Brian Wilson included the voices of his dogs on “Caroline, No”. These may have been atmospheric or decorative elements, but they were also seeds of ideas that led to further exploration by groups such as The Beatles, who would include the sounds of a rooster, a cat, dogs, horses, an elephant, sheep, a lion, crickets, a nightingale, pigs, and a blackbird on various albums between 1967 and 1970. A growing love of the natural world, as well as an ecological consciousness was coming into being at this time, and the inclusion of animal voices underscored this in the popular music realm.

After the release of Pet Sounds there was in-fighting with the Beach Boys. There was a destructive relationship with their manager and father, Murry Wilson. Brian Wilson had had it with touring and wanted to stay in the studio continuing his dream-like musical odyssey— a new project he called Smile.

But Brian Wilson’s music label was confused by the strange songs he was coming up with. Despite the single from Smile called Good Vibrations, with its lovely melodies and vocal harmonies, and its innovative use of electro-theremin and cello (in a pop music context), the label was not impressed with other art tracks he was coming up with— Vega-Tables, The Elements: Fire (Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow). They were looking for hits of the Surfin’ USA variety.

It turns out Brian Wilson’s label had completely misjudged the cultural winds.

Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was released by the Beatles and it took the world by storm. Furthermore, it turns out that it was originally the Pet Sounds recording that had caught Paul McCartney’s and George Martin’s ear and inspired them. George Martin said that Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was The Beatles attempt to equal Pet Sounds.

Though portions of the Smile sessions appear in the 1967 Beach Boys recording Smiley Smile, it would take until 2011 until the Smile Sessions were fully reconstructed— forty-four years later.

Forty-four years.

To me, this is one of those music history “what ifs”… What would have happened if Smile had been released in its entirety in 1967? Or even 1968?

Musically, the carnivalesque strangeness of The Elements: Fire (Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow) hold up (to my ear) just fine with the more aggressive, experimental elements that appear in The Velvet Underground, as well as The United States of America (i.e. songs like The American Metaphysical Circus.)

And the original version of Wonderful (heard on the 2011 release) is more akin to the psychedelic baroque-pop optimism of Sgt. Peppers than the version that appeared on Smiley Smile, which alas, sounds slightly deflated.

Brian Wilson endured depression and all manner of maladies as his masterwork lay buried in a studio vault.

His star has certainly come around again. I was thrilled to see that he made a guest appearance on Janelle Monae’s Dirty Computer. (She’s another one of my favorite musical innovators.)

But the fact is that Brian Wilson’s masterwork languished in obscurity. Forty-four years. My hunch is that the world was perfectly ready to hear Smile in its entirety in 1967.

So much beauty kept under wraps.

So. Here’s to the musical dreamers.
To the musical inventors… to the oddballs and visionaries who make such beautiful music, braving on even if the surrounding culture is not seemingly ready.

Happy Birthday Brian Wilson.
May your musical light continue to shine brightly.

—Duncan Neilson, June 20, 2020

Image by Mishka Westell