It’s a story that’s all too well known amongst music lovers, and particularly those of a certain generation: the unravelling of what was to be “a teenage symphony to God” – The Beach Boys’ follow-up to the jaw-droppingly beautiful Pet Sounds - SMiLE. Without dwelling too much on the story itself (it’s been told a thousand times over, and will continue to be told a thousand times more), considering the legends, hearsay and truths that surround the SMiLE project’s conception, creation and ultimate abandonment are what render the album quite so alluring. What did it, or would it sound like? It is no small feat to have the label “greatest album... ever” attributed to an unreleased and indeed unfinished musical endeavour, and yet now, finally, we can hear not just the album, but all that is and was SMiLE.
The complete package is colossal, with some 139 tracks for your listening pleasure. The first 20 consist of the SMiLE album itself, pieced together and completed from what was recorded between 1966 and 1967 and arranged according to the tracklist finalised by Brian Wilson for his solo release in 2004. Amazingly it all fits as though, contrary to what Wilson has stated in the past, this was almost certainly the intended arrangement for SMiLE. There are noticeable differences from Wilson’s solo effort: certain instruments are missing, lyrics have disappeared, “feels” (Wilson’s classically-inspired musical interludes, bridges and segues) are different and yet, astonishingly, it is coherent and, barring some odd levelling on the production front, feels almost finished. At this point comparisons between the 2004 solo release and this one must stop, for they have become irrelevant and hinder the ability to review this album for what it is: magnificent. This release should be taken and allowed to stand on its own, as would have been intended originally. The clarity of the recording, given its age, is astounding: Wilson and his fellow Beach Boys’ voices glide above the music, their sumptuous harmonies more distinctive than ever. At times, this album sounds like it could have been recorded last week.
Our Prayer opens the record, sucking you into the album with the most arrestingly haunting and beautiful harmonisation ever recorded by The Beach Boys. The quasi-religious euphoria is soon brought back down to earth by Gee, which cheerily leads you into the masterpiece that is Heroes and Villains, a song with more movements in its concise 4:52 duration than an #Occupy protest. And yet, stunningly, it never feels convoluted, confused, nor chaotic. Indeed conversely, Heroes and Villains is awe-inspiring in its scope, scale and delivery. I cannot conceive of another song with the sheer compositional and executional ability to leave me quite as dumbstruck as Heroes and Villains and this is but the third track of SMiLE, and the first proper “song”. The album continues in the same vein, consistently delivering in compositional mastery, beautiful harmonisation and childlike innocence, and it is an album that must be listened to as a whole: the drums of Do You Like Worms (Roll Plymouth Rock) are cacophonous and its hook, “Rock, rock, roll, Plymouth Rock roll over” is catchy on its own, but appreciated in the context of Heroes and Villains and I’m In Great Shape, the song becomes doubly emotive. Likewise, Barnyard seems frivolous in nature yet when paired with My Only Sunshine becomes one movement in an album full of equally breathtaking movements. For an album consistently rumoured to be an incoherent shambles SMiLE is quite the opposite, and then you are greeted with a pair of songs that could convincingly vie for the crown of “Best Pop song of the 1960s”: Surf’s Up, and Vega-Tables.
While Surf’s Up really needs no introduction and can be found on later, post-SMiLE Beach Boys releases, here it can be heard in its rightful place. Van Dyke Parks’ lyrical offering contributes to what may be one of the most beautifully perplexing records of The Beach Boys’ ‘60s output, Wilson warbling: “Dove nested towers the hour was / Strike the street quicksilver moon / Carriage across the fog / Two-Step to lamp lights cellar tune / The laughs come hard in Auld Lang Syne”. Surf’s Up is sublime music, its pop accessibility tinged with the bittersweet melancholy of a hidden meaning and an unseen fragility in its composer. Vega-Tables, on the other hand, is laughably simplistic at first glance (particularly lyrically-speaking), but underestimate it at your own loss, for it is one of the best examples there is of Wilson’s ability to seamlessly create a pop melody so instantly agreeable that it appears silly. It is this playful, innocent melody that renders the track so mind-blowing and, just as you may realise that Brian Wilson really may have had more skill than Lennon and McCartney combined, a glorious harmony swims into your ear canals, chanting: “Sleep a lot, eat a lot, brush ‘em like crazy / Run a lot, do a lot, never be lazy.” This could only be The Beach Boys under Wilson’s guidance, and it is irresistibly seductive.
What follows is further incredibly well-crafted composition that lifts SMiLE higher: the layers expand exponentially, with Wind Chimes deceiving the listener with its opening simplicity which grows continually, swelling effortlessly into a truly overpowering wall of sound Phil Spector would kill for. Wind Chimes then draws to a close, leaving you in a state of musically aroused euphoria that is swiftly juxtaposed with the paranoia-inducing The Elements: Fire (Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow). The song that drew Wilson to his knees, consumed by drug-induced paranoia sounds, fittingly, exactly like the song to do that to a mind under the influence of substances far too powerful to be consumed sensibly, let alone daily. It is the only moment of pure terror in an album brimming with melodies that only occasionally point to a deep-seated, unsettled worry beneath their cheery outward expression, but all is swiftly forgotten as Good Vibrations draws the album to an unforgettable close. The bonus track You’re Welcome thanks you for listening, but by this point I’m already considering starting a religion to thank Brian Wilson for having even existed in the first place.
What follows is staggering: the curtain is lifted, and Dorothy sees the Wizard. The sessions from SMiLE represent a treasure trove of delights to any music fan, let alone a fan of The Beach Boys. The scope and ambition of Wilson’s project is laid bare for all to hear, as Wilson instructs and guides his contemporaries in what must surely have been an enlightening experience. This really is something you should be left to explore for yourself, but highlights include the Heroes and Villains Sections (strange, bestial utterances alongside off-beat laughs and hiccups demonstrate the complexity of the song itself), a pair of bonus tracks (including a number by the supremely underrated Dennis Wilson), the obligatory drug talk (“has the acid kicked in yet?”), and what must have been an intended intro to Vega-Tables by Hal Blaine. These merely serve to demonstrate precisely what SMiLE could have been.
This release has been far too readily labelled a compendium “for the collectors” or “for the fans”, although it is anything but, and it is an insult to Brian Wilson and The Beach Boys’ decision to release this record to consider it as such. This is as mandatory a part of any record collection as Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and is indeed, quite possibly, a better record, even in this unfinished state. What Wilson was set to achieve with this album is staggering, and when taking into consideration Wilson’s age at the time (a scant 25), I’m left stunned. What on earth will I ever do with my life that will even come close to this? That this album divided The Beach Boys (it has taken great effort to not pass comment on my opinion of certain members of the band and their role in the destruction of The Beach Boys’ creativity) and broke Wilson’s mind is one of the greatest tragedies of modern pop music. One can only imagine what could have become of The Beach Boys had SMiLE been completed and released, and seeing it here, so nearly complete, makes the listening experience bittersweet. It is subsequently tinged with melancholy, for something so close to perfection is presented to you, yet it remains tangibly incomplete. It’s certainly time to throw away the bootlegs, for here is SMiLE in all its glory. And yet I get the feeling that it may open the door to a whole new torrent of bootlegs, as fans and perfectionists try to incorporate the greatest moments of these sessions into the album, thus seemingly completing it further. To do so, however, is a fruitless exercise: SMiLE’s perfection is a product of its incompletion. To 'complete' it would be to render it imperfect and tarnish the allure, that of being so close to perfection. SMiLE will always be magnificent, and is more magnificent for being unfinished. I stand before it, my tiny mind blown to smithereens, my ears in awe. God Bless You, Brian Wilson.
Ben Cousens.
