Something to SMiLE about Sam Wieck takes a look at The Beach Boys’ SMiLE Sessions box set released this week, and finds that the story behind it is just as intriguing as the music itself.
The SMiLE Sessions deluxe box set must seem like a Christmas miracle for Beach Boys enthusiasts and rabid catalogue completists. Forty-one years after the record’s early demise, upwards of six hours of mostly unheard material has been exhumed from the archives. There is a hint of cynicism in the release coming just before Christmas, in the year of The Beach Boys’ 50th anniversary, but don’t let my jaundiced eye fool you. My reference point for the Beach Boys is their cameo appearance on Home Improvement and alcohol-muddled recollections of dancing to Pet Sounds in the muggy lounge room of a poorly-insulated home in Brisbane. A vast generational separation and spiritual bitterness made me skeptical about the value of this release, but then I started listening to it. SMiLE is the avant-garde, America-themed pop record that broke Brian Wilson’s brain. Its story has the makings of a feature film: tense professional relationships compounded by the relevant parties being related, heavy drug use, a genius and his eccentricity, and a killer blow from a close-kept enemy. For those of you unfamiliar with the story, here’s a plot synopsis: Brian Wilson, a musician in his mid-twenties, has recently stopped touring with his band The Beach Boys in order to focus on recording his magnum opus. Through the recording process, he works with a visionary lyricist, Van Dyke Parks, a bond which creates further rifts, particularly with Brian Wilson’s cousin and other Beach Boys spearhead, Mike Love. All the while Wilson’s use of marijuana and LSD beginS to unravel his mind and alter his personality, exacerbating his idiosyncrasies. Despite all this, Wilson and Parks continue working from the gigantic sandbox in Wilson’s mansion, nailing tune after tune. As tensions continue to heighten and Wilson’s mental stability deteriorates, completion of the record seems an increasingly distant prospect. Finally, upon hearing tracks from The Beatles soon-to-be-released record, Sgt. Pepper’s, Wilson snaps. Unable to deal with the ill-feeling between Wilson and Love, Parks leaves the project around the same time, in turn dooming one of the most interestingly composed, forward thinking and technically complex recordings of the period (1966–‘67) to the archives. Phew. If a studio won’t buy that, I’m willing to negotiate the addition of a talking animal, just to help tie the story in to Pet Sounds. There’s enough drama and heartbreak in the making of SMiLE to put bums on seats and there was certainly enough to drive bootleggers and tape-traders mental in their hunt for the original recordings.
SMiLE is a great record in its own right. Certainly not perfect, it’s a little uneven at times and Wilson’s quest for humour can descend into novelty. There are some awkward textural shifts in the name of concept, slide whistles sticking out like sore thumbs and other odd decisions. But in and around the occasional head-tilting “Why, Brian?!” moments, fantastic pieces of art emerge. Of particular note are the songs touched by the hands of Van Dykes Park: ‘Heroes and Villains’, ‘Surf’s Up’, ‘Wind Chimes’ and ‘Wonderful’ are all cracking good tunes. There is also a seriously exciting piece of loot in the bonus tracks, a solo version of ‘Surf’s Up’. Brian Wilson’s dog-whistle of a falsetto and a piano: sublime. Negative criticism of SMiLE could be considered unfair given that it was never considered completed. But some of the gaffes that still remain on this release do not seem as though they would sound better with any amount of polishing. Still, SMiLE and its bonus tracks only comprise the first of five discs. There are swathes of treasure to be found by exploring the remaining four. They are replete with outtakes, band discussions, experimental recording sessions and alternate takes. The second CD is dominated by sectional takes for ‘Heroes and Villains’. It becomes clear that many of the individual tracks on the album were originally intended as sections within ‘Heroes and Villains’, and were later separated out. Wading through it, it becomes clear that Brian Wilson was not the kind of guy you’d want to work for if you couldn’t deal with a perfectionist as a superior. SMiLE, if it had been released as scheduled, would have marked a huge departure from The Beach Boys’ previous work. Unfortunately it marked instead their gradual decline in popularity and Brian Wilson’s lessthan-gradual decline into addiction. Perhaps that makes the release of this record and its accompanying material all the more poignant. The immense amount of energy and time thrown in Wilson’s labour of love helps you empathise with the pain and disappointment that must have followed, having to pack it up in boxes and walk away. A small part of me wants to figure out the chronological order of the extra material and play it through, charting the descent into the limbo reserved for lost albums. Fortunately, a much larger part of me is content to spend the next few days with SMiLE, finished or otherwise, burying itself in my brain.
WRITTEN BY Sam Wieck Grooveguide.co.nz
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