Pet Sounds Live

by

Brian Wilson

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If you love Pet Sounds, why wouldn't you love this?

I'm sure it was nowhere near as easy as it sounds to translate a layered, heavily orchestrated album into a workable live-band arrangement. The fact that Wilson has assembled a band capable of pulling this off, and making it sound so fresh and energetic, should not be taken for granted.

Moreover--this is beautiful, timeless music. Your great-grandchildren will be listening to this music 100 years from now, just as today we listen to Beethoven or Mozart. We're lucky to have the composer around to lend his personal stamp to what will be the first of thousands of concert interpretations.

Finally, a word for one element of the live show--the Wondermints. I know nothing about their music, but on this album, as well as on the wonderful double-CD, "Brian Wilson Live at the Roxy," they sing great. They don't have the egos of the Beach Boys--they're happy just to sing the incredible vocal arrangements he wrote. Heresy it may be, but sometimes I prefer their singing to the Beach Boys. Certainly as a live representation of the vocal sound, the Beach Boys never sounded better than these guys. They show respect for the music, and when the music is this good, and this important, that reverance is much-appreciated.

Now, of course Brian's voice has faded somewhat. That incredible falsetto is now somewhat gravelly, and his intonation wavers. But he is the soul of this music, and what he may lose in technique through age, he more than makes up for in character.

So, just get this, and then you'll have two versions of Pet Sounds. That's bad?

First, let's make one thing clear: the Royal Festival Hall shows at which this album was recorded were staggering. They were quite the most emotional musical experiences those present would have experienced. Grown men - myself among them - were crying. To hear those songs - not just the Pet Sounds material, but the Smile songs - performed by the man who wrote them, back from more than 20 years of staring over the abyss, was an astonishing experience. And Wilson's band were magnificent, rising to the occasion perfectly. Wilson himself, though fragile, was plainly on good form, and in an audience of the devout his own errors were viewed indulgently.

But this isn't a gig for the converted, it's a CD on general sale. And facts must be faced: those BW/Beach Boys fans who clog up Wilson's messageboard claiming he's in the best voice of his career are way, way, wide of the mark. His voice is tattered and frayed, straining and yearning. Given the intimacy of the concert hall, and the nature of the material, that can be a positive: it accentuates the melancholy at the heart of the material. On record, however, it sounds like a bloke who's really struggling to hit the notes and to enunciate the lyrics (and let's not forget, these songs weren't written to be performed straight through by Wilson. There were other singing Beach Boys). The backing is magnificent, and Wilson loyalists will probably love it, but this is not an album for people who just fancy hearing Pet Sounds. I've played it to them. And they laugh. "You're kidding," they say."This is meant to be classic?"

The problem is the fiercely protective unanimity that BW hardliners take: Brian is a genius (granted, though I'd perhaps apply the past tense), and everything he is involved with is, therefore, inestimably wonderful ...Brian Wilson is a deeply damaged man who, for a few years, was touched by the hand of God. That's more than almost all of us will ever manage. Isn't it enough? It's great that he's able to play this material again, but let's not pretend that God still hovers over him at the piano.