The Brian Wilson Mixtape

Across the 1960s, The Beach Boys were a certified hit machine, with sensitive perfectionist Brian – like a cross between Phil Spector and a teddy bear – at the helm. But Brian’s body of work is more than just the golden-oldie staples beloved of classic rock stations today. Here’s a sampler of his complex, compulsive, bittersweet genius.

‘Surfer Girl’ (1963)

The story of a lovesick surfer boy watching his paramour from the shore, this poignant single opens with a wave of The Beach Boys’ signature blood harmonies. While the lyrics were inspired by Brian’s high school honey, the track is sonically indebted to the nostalgic sounds of Tin Pan Alley and the Great American Songbook. ‘Surfer Girl’ was written in that temporal low-tide moment when the 1950s had receded, but the 60s had not yet become “The Sixties”. It plays more like a doo-wop bop than a hit of California sunshine (especially in comparison to the band’s other surf-centric numbers). Following the “AABA” structure of jazz standards, this overtly earnest ballad is said to be the first song Brian ever wrote, aged 19. It’s also the first Beach Boys record to credit him as producer. ‘Surfer Girl’ may sound formulaic now, but it’s proof of a young artist mastering the rules before he sought to break them.

‘I Just Wasn’t Made for These Times’ (1966)

Renowned as The Beach Boys’ best album, Pet Sounds houses all-timers like ‘Wouldn’t It Be Nice’ and ‘God Only Knows’. But this deeper cut, ruminating on the burden of finding your purpose, is just as special. It was co-written by Tony Asher, who provided pensive lyrics like, “They say I got brains but they ain’t doin’ me no good,” based on Wilson’s feelings of isolation, anguish and disillusionment. In making Pet Sounds, the boy genius had set himself the unholy goal of topping the Beatles’ Rubber Soul, released to much fanfare the year before. Brian’s plaintive track captures the weight of his expectations in a five-word refrain: “Sometimes I feel very sad.” Don’t we all? ‘…These Times’ is the 11th track on The Beach Boys’ 11th album. Was that a sign of a spiritual presence in the recording studio, hovering over the 14-piece orchestra, or a portent of things to come? As Brian sings, “Each time things start to happen again/I think I got something good goin’ for myself/But what goes wrong?” It was a prophesy of the decades ahead.

‘Surf’s Up’ (1971)

After making pop music an art on Pet Sounds, Brian embarked on an even more ambitious project. “A teenage symphony to God,” he called it. Upon hearing the work in progress, his bandmates lacked such piety. The album was called SMiLE, and its esoteric direction – owing to Brian’s escalating drug use and deteriorating mental state – displeased the more conservative Beach Boys. In 1967, the sessions were scrapped, and while tracks like ‘Heroes and Villains’ and ‘Good Vibrations’ appeared on the retooled Smiley Smile record later that year, one of SMiLE’s most sublime pieces didn’t surface until 1971. Despite what the name (not to mention the band’s back catalogue) suggests, ‘Surf’s Up’ doesn’t dally with So-Cal’s favourite past time. In fact, the arcane lyrics, written by Van Dyke Parks, are so poetic and opaque – “A choke of grief, heart hardened, I/Beyond belief, a broken man, too tough to cry” – you’re better off intuiting rather than analysing them. Still, Brian once revealed the song is about a person who is so moved by music, they experience a spiritual awakening. Listen to ‘Surf’s Up’ with the lights off and see for yourself.

‘Love and Mercy’ (1988)

The 1970s and 80s brought tough times for Brian Wilson. He struggled with addiction, repeated hospitalisations and micromanaging – to put it lightly – from his Svengali quack Eugene Landy. Against all odds, Wilson released his first solo album in 1988. The self-titled record opens with a lilting pop hymn, ‘Love and Mercy’, which floats like a little grey cloud of Peanuts-ish naivety: “I was lyin’ in my room and the news came on TV/A lotta people out there hurtin’ and it really scares me”. Brian called it “probably the most spiritual song I’ve ever written”, and its message of hope in the dark made it the perfect closer at his live shows in later years.

Brian Wilson Presents SMiLE – Movement three (2004)

Almost 40 years after being canned, SMiLE finally saw the light of day. Using his 1960s material as an artistic launchpad, Brian adapted and completed his magnum opus, debuting it live in concert at London’s Royal Festival Hall. With support from his impeccable band (who played no small role in bringing the maestro’s near-mythic vision to fruition), an album was then recorded and released as Brian Wilson Presents SMiLE. It entered the Billboard charts at No.13 – the highest debut position of Brian’s career – and soon went platinum. Picking a single, standout song is almost impossible, partly due to their intertwined nature – with each track segueing into the next, a river to the sea – and partly because they’re all remarkable. The album’s third movement is particularly buoyant, as ‘Vega-Tables’ serves up words to live by: “Sleep a lot, eat a lot, brush ’em like crazy/Run a lot, do a lot, never be lazy”. That’s Brian Wilson at his silly, sincere, heartfelt best, fighting off his demons in four-part harmony, with a slide whistle. Once a mirage, then a shipwreck, SMiLE will sail on forever as his masterwork.

By Aimee Knight

Aimee Knight is an arts critic, and a former Big Issue staff writer, from Kaurna Yerta.
Instagram: @siraimeeknight