BRIAN WILSON: THAT LUCKY OLD SUN (2008)
1) That
Lucky Old Sun; 2) Morning Beat; 3) Room With A View; 4) Good Kind Of Love; 5)
Forever My Surfer Girl; 6) Venice Beach; 7) Live Let Live; 8) Mexican Girl; 9)
Cinco De Mayo; 10) California Role; 11) Between Pictures; 12) Oxygen To The
Brain; 13) Been Too Long; 14) Midnight's Another Day; 15) Lucky Old Sun
(reprise); 16) Going Home; 17) Southern California.
This one, I believe, is quite charming in the
usual cuddly way, but only if you lower your expectations of it — something
that most of the critics have not done, perhaps because they were so excited
about the perspective of Brian and Van Dyke Parks working together once again
on yet another conceptual album about
the joys (and the occasional side effects) of that lazy old California life.
Odd, because Orange Crate Art
already showed the world that the Wilson/Parks team is capable of pleasant
pastiches that will never stand proper competition with the likes of Smile: and still, with every new Brian
Wilson record that has an orange in the title or on the album sleeve, people
hope and hope and hope for the return of the son of ʽGood Vibrationsʼ. Then
again, the critical turnaround is so rapid these days, it is quite likely that
most of the people that were disappointed by Lucky Old Sun never even heard Orange
Crate Art.
This one may be just a tad more deceptive
because it has a conceptual structure — one large suite that basically
describes one day in the life of a veteran, but still impressionable
Californian, from morning to midnight, with an intro, an outro, and a set of
brief musical links where Brian recites,
rather than sings, some of Parks' poetry. So, «suite» would automatically
trigger the Smile connection, but
the ambitions here are very humble — this is not a teenage symphony to God,
this is just an old man's homage to his native place, and it is not always
obligatory to invoke deep spirituality under these conditions, even if the
homage is idealized and about as «natural» as the eye-burning oranges on the
front sleeve.
The songs here are generally very simple,
highly derivative (of course) of Brian's past successes, but catchy and
likeable all the same. (Many were co-written with Brian's band member Scott
Bennett; I have no idea how much the latter was responsible for the words or
melodies, but everything bears an easily recognizable Wilson stamp anyway). Production
has occasionally been compared to the Beach Boys' work in the mid-1970s (15 Big Ones and whatever followed), but
I do not believe that was intentional — most
of the times when Brian goes retro (and he almost always goes retro), he ends
up sounding like that just because it is easier these days to mimick that
sound, with its loud drums and thick guitars, than something like ʽI Get
Aroundʼ. And the biggest problem with 15
Big Ones was not the production
anyway, but rather Brian's general lack of involvement and interest — which is
certainly not something you could suspect here,
unless we eventually find out that his record company had him under strict
contractual obligation to come out with a concept album about the state of
California every ten years.
But yes, the songs are nothing special, very
simple and casual for the «high» Brian standard. Most of the stuff here either
observes the rules of early Sixties' rock'n'roll (ʽMorning Beatʼ and its ilk)
or lightweight vaudeville (ʽGood Kind Of Loveʼ and its kin). The piano ballads
are typically illustrated by ʽForever My Surfer Girlʼ, which borrows its title
from you-know-what, but its hook from ʽDon't Worry Babyʼ for some reason, and
simply does not exist outside of its nostalgic context — but inside this
context, it's totally OK, just to verify that the old naïve romantic hasn't
changed a bit in more than forty years. Actually, though, there are not too
many ballads here: on the whole, the album is lively, filled with slow boogies
and dance-oriented numbers, at least one of which is Latin (ʽMexican Girlʼ,
which is so stereotypical in both its musical and lyrical approaches that it
probably would be unbearable if done by anybody else, but Brian is actually
working on an album of stereotypes here, so let us forgive him the mariachi
trumpets and the «bonita muchacha»'s — the man is happy to live in his
dollhouse).
There is, however, at least one song here that
— perhaps unintentionally — gives out a flash of greatness. ʽMidnight's Another
Dayʼ begins inauspiciously enough, a quiet piano ballad whose hard-pumped
chords are more Elton John than Brian, but eventually it is the only one of
these tunes that transcends the «oh look at that, isn't it nice how much
diversity we have in this state of California?» angle and delves into Brian's
more personal and intimate emotions, because "all these people, they make
me feel so alone": the crescendo on that line is this record's most defining
moment, and it makes your heart ache for the old guy who, at the end of the
day, realises how most of his world has
really passed away, and how what remains is confused and messed up, but then
tries to reassure himself by softly purring in his own ears that
"midnight's another day". The song may not be on the level of ʽ'Til I
Dieʼ, but it's in the same territory, and if anything, it comes across as more
personal because most of the vocals are not multi-tracked.
The two final tracks, particularly the
brawny-braggardly ʽGoing Homeʼ (somewhat of a cross between the melodic side of
ʽDo It Againʼ and the mood side of ʽBack Homeʼ), will probably seem
anti-climactic after that, but somehow it feels right to me that the «deepest» song on the album should not
conclude it, but rather be followed with some light silliness. We do not want
to be left with the feeling that Brian is still beset by his old demons — it's
important to know that the scars still hurt, and that deep down inside he still
traps those fears without which most of the Beach Boys' masterpieces would
never come to life, but a tragic conclusion for That Lucky Old Sun would have us worried, and we don't want another
Dr. Landy in Brian's life. As it is, the record's status as a package of
catchy, shallow entertainment with an unexpected (and slightly creepy) heart of
gold is totally satisfactory, and calls for a routine thumbs up.
I found Brian's recitations actually kind of charming, because he does them in that draggy, slurry way he talks now. It takes the pomposity out of it and makes it sound like just some crazy but harmless old guy jabbering away.
ReplyDeleteGreat review. Always found this album really charming and the music enjoyable. As you said, nothing is too dazzlingly original, but the light variations of styles and the rich arrangements make it a joy.
ReplyDeleteIt tends to fly past my ears quicker than I imagine each time I listen, but no matter: just pop it in again!
>even if the homage is idealized and about as «natural» as the eye-burning oranges on the front sleeve
ReplyDeleteThe oranges are in fact quite natural-looking; it's the circles behind them that are flamingly saturated.
It’s nice to be proved wrong once in a while. After Smile, I was of the opinion that Brian should have retired. There was just no way he could top it. It’s important to remember that it was written when Brian was still at the top of his game. On the other hand, the albums that bracketed it – the thoroughly mediocre Getting in Over My Head and a Christmas (!) album – seemed to suggest that present-day Brian was burned out as a songwriter.
ReplyDeleteSo, this came as a rather nice surprise. Brian gave us a very solid concept album, no less. I do agree that Scott Bennett’s lyrics aren’t great, but they are good. (The only wince comes when Bennett sings “My bonita muchacha/Don’t you know that IU wantchya”, which sounds like something Mike Love would have come up with – he even sounds like Love). Brian’s vocals are, again, still with it. The music is obviously in Brian’s traditional style, but none of the songs are blatant rewrites of old stuff. Unfortunately, there isn’t really a knock-one-out-of-the-park track like “Marcella”, “Sail on Sailor” or “Rio Grande” her, although “Going Home” comes close. Nonetheless, this is another winning combination of Brian’s songwriting skills, accessible pop music and artistic ambition. It’s too bad this would be the last of his albums to have all three of these elements present.