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Brian WilsonSmile Nonesuch/Warner In 1966, after the critical acclaim of 'Pet Sounds' and while the Beach Boys were away on tour, Brian Wilson, 24 year old composer and studio auteur, stayed behind to put the next album together. Employing the modular style of song composition that he'd invented for Good Vibrations - a technique whereby rather than focussing on recording a live song, pieces based on a theme were recorded separately and then spliced together in the studio - Wilson and collaborator, poet and classical pianist Van Dyke Parks decided to write an album that was a light-hearted celebration of Americana, in spite of the Vietnam War (and in spite of The Beatles). Those who dropped in on the sessions told tales of Wilson's insane methods, recording in swimming pools with vegetables and tools, a sand box set up around the piano to capture the feel of the beach... and also that what they heard blew their minds. Wilson was creating something extraordinary and beautiful. But by '67, for one reason or another (the dubious response of the other Beach Boys, problems with the record company), Wilson decided to shelve the tapes to be reworked at a later date. 'Smile', the ambitious concept album, became a dusty series of bootlegs and legend. Now, after the success of his 'Pet Sounds' tour, Wilson has re-recorded the Smile album with his tight-as-a-tiger backing band. "But was it worth the wait?" you ask. A better question is "how did we go so long without it?" Smile begins with Our Prayer, a choral harmony that opens up your speakers, cleaning them of the debris and cobwebs of the last 37 years and preparing you for a reverent phonic experience, then turns this around and gives you a tongue-in-cheek, teenage doo-wop refrain "how I love my girl" before diving into an alternate, definitive version of Heroes And Villains. Wilson's heartbreakingly joyous voice carries the song - and you - along the American landscape with Van Dyke Parks' emotive, beat-esque lyrics weaving tales and painting pictures. The tracks meld together into an opus: Cabin Essence (with its uplifting Philip Glass chorus), Song For Children (which could be easily mistaken for the High Llamas), and the beautiful and sophisticated Surf's Up, all rise up above the landscape like cities, passing by all too briefly, moving on to the whimsy of Vege-Tables and the surprising grunge of Mrs O'Leary's Cow. Then in Blue Hawaii you watch the sun go down over the Beach Boys' surf reverie, until the record ends with Good Vibrations as you've never heard it before: in context; no longer the quirky cut-up catchcry of psychedelia, it is at home among its peers - it's like hearing the song for the very first time. It is a perfect end to a remarkable album, and a true testament to Brian Wilson's genius. To sum up: there has been a large gap in your music collection and the only thing that can fill it is 'Smile.'  |
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