THE BEACH BOYS
singles
(Ratings for the singles reflect the A-side only. Format differences obliterate my desire to attempt to grade the package as a whole. I don't own most of these singles but I review them because I know the music. Deal with it.)
[Additional note: Evidently the discography I used for much of this information was erroneous about a few b-sides. Apologies for any errors you find here but this is NOT a discography so I make no claims for its accuracy about anything except my stupid opinion.]
Surfin' (Candix 1961)
The Pendletones (it's a pun) -- Al Jardine, Mike Love, and Brian, Carl, and Dennis Wilson -- recorded their first single for Wilson family friends Hite and Dorinda Morgan in mid-1961. When it surfaced on the Candix label in October, still two months ahead of their first gig, the Pendletones' name was not attached. A pair of economical record execs had renamed them "the Beachboys." The band's feelings about this have never been divulged... In any case, "Surfin'" is rudimentary, with a wonderful garage-band sound, amazing harmonies (even from the start), and fabulous lyrics. For two minutes these men, or boys, sound utterly concerned with nothing but convincing you that surfing is the Thing to Do. Not only that, it's "the only life, the only way for me," and so fulfilling is it, that if the surf is down, in order to fill the void, "we'll do the Surfer Stomp -- it's the latest dance craze." In the very first released song of their career, the Beach Boys lay down the foundation for much of what was to follow in a single brilliant couplet: "Yeah, my surfer knots are rising and my board is losing wax / But that won't stop me, baby, 'cause you know I'm coming back." The b-side, "Luau" was, along with two other songs recorded at the sessions, written by Hite's son Bruce Morgan. Most of the vocals here are provided by Dennis, who sounds great -- and plenty enthusiastic -- on his vinyl debut. "Surfin'" is in its original mix here as opposed to the sped-up album version, and you can hear it along with "Luau" on Varese Sarabande's 2000 compilation SURFIN'. (B)
Surfin' Safari (Capitol 1962)
A demo tape sent to Capitol Records included what became both sides of the Beach Boys' first major-label single. "Surfin' Safari" is not at all dissimilar to "Surfin'." In fact, the two are easy to confuse, but "Safari" is leaner, quicker, and more pointed. If anything, the chorus is campier and less exciting than on the earlier tune, but no matter. This is a garage-band proto-punk classic. What makes it more accessible is perhaps a matter simply of the lyrics; instead of making surfing an unattainable Godlike concept -- the _ultimate_ in fun, you see -- it is here an everyday, homely activity, lending the track a sort of recreational-working-class theme that would be carried further in "Surfin' U.S.A.": "We're loading up our Woody with our boards inside / And heading out singin' our song." Meanwhile, the popular early cut "409" was the Beach Boys' first car song and hit the lower reaches of the top 100. This does little justice to its subsequent fame, however, as decades of car ads and oldies compilations have made this likely a better-known song than the A-side. Sure, the Ramones had a hit with a cover of "Surfin' Safari," but "409" is a mainstay in ads for cleaning solution, and I don't think one could deny that cleaning solution reaches more people than the Ramones. Many of the Beach Boys' car songs would stick to technical jargon foreign to all but the most seasoned listener, yet still somewhat endearing, but "409" mostly sticks to the basics and is all the better for it. "Well, I saved my pennies and I saved my dimes" is as perfect an opening line for a rock & roll song as you are ever likely to hear. The band's playing remains deliciously raw, their vocals a minor miracle (although these early releases gave them few chances for an impressive display of their remarkable harmonizing talents), and this time, there are sound effects, provided by a tape recorder laying in a garage while Usher drove by repeatedly in his car. Both tracks collected on the debut album, SURFIN' SAFARI. (B+)
Ten Little Indians (Capitol 1962)
The weakest track on the first album -- and undoubtedly the most forgettable Beach Boys single of the '60s, their third -- bizarrely enjoyed a fair bit of chart success, though it failed to crack the top forty. It is, as the title would imply, a rewrite of the traditional children's song, with excess teenage-oriented themes that only make the whole thing more ridiculous. The overwhelming question is, what's the point? And while we're at it, why does this seem to have the same backing track as "County Fair" (the b-side, also from SURFIN' SAFARI)? (C-)
Surfin' USA (Capitol 1963)
Copping a melody from Chuck Berry's "Sweet Little Sixteen" is probably not one of the better ways to jump-start a career, but it worked anyway, and on "Surfin' U.S.A.," the Beach Boys' first top ten hit and undeniable breakthrough (the LP of the same name was the best selling rock & roll album up to that point), they play as if there is nothing else happening in the world, as if the fate of the universe rests on their shoulders. The band still sounds spontaneous and amateurish, but somehow perfect, with Carl Wilson's skilled but simplistic guitar hooks driving the track into an oceanic, simplistic glory. The drums and guitars kick in at a perfect pace, speed, and intensity, the compelling harmonies floating alongside like crashing waves, and the lyrics create something much more than a mere tribute to surfing: "If everybody had an ocean..." The idea of the search for an idyllic, relentlessly satisfying paradise of fun, sun, beaches, sex, and whatever else -- the California dream -- becomes something universal in a sense that could not be acheived by the Beach Boys' earlier hits. These two and a half minutes keep nearly every great promise a rock & roll record ever made. (The other promises were later kept by "I Get Around," "In the Parkin' Lot," "Don't Worry Baby," and "Don't Back Down," among others.) The famous b-side, "Shut Down," seems lazy in comparison. With its cocky lyrics and adventurous structure, the song is generally considered the best of the classic Beach Boys car song by fans, but it really cannot stand up to "Little Deuce Coupe" and "Ballad of Ole' Betsy" or even "409." It's a lot of fun, and artistically innovative, but it's cursed with a tedious saxophone solo from Mike Love and some atypically unenthusiastic vocals. The horrible stereo mix emphasizes this problem doubly. To be honest, the boys sound incredibly bored, but at this stage it is still early in the game and a track of this quality would have been welcome on the first album. Both tracks are from SURFIN' U.S.A. (A-)
Surfer Girl (Capitol 1963)
The SURFIN' U.S.A. album displayed the Beach Boys' exceptional penchant for ballads ("Farmer's Daughter," "Lonely Sea," and the unjustly forgotten "Lana"), and the group's melancholy was suggested by early outtakes like "Land Ahoy," but "Surfer Girl" was the track that put this wider dimension of their sound on public display. When all trends of the time have passed, it's clear that this song is not only a glance at the genius to come but remarkable in itself. The last of the four "surf" singles in the canon, it may be the most durable track Brian ever wrote (and it is supposedly his first composition). It's sentimental but not overreaching, sweet but not corny, and it shows Brian using his musical arena for some surprisingly sophisticated lyrics -- note the romantic escape suggested by "I will take you everywhere I go" -- as well as, of course, his staggering melodic skills. Before Brian became a Spector nut and before the band even could play particularly well, they were cranking out classics like this... and the album is just as good if not better, an unheard-of idea in 1963. "Little Deuce Coupe," also from SURFER GIRL, is the highest-charting b-side ever and a classic in itself. A single moment of comparison to "Shut Down" or "409" puts the Beach Boys' rapid evolution in full perspective. "Little Deuce Coupe" is smart, sassy, and relentless, with a shuffle rhythm, bass line, and fabulous lyrics and vocals that make most other music from 1963 sound incredibly stupid. The song could just as easily be a hard blues number as a Beach Boys song (check out the demo version on HAWTHORNE, CALIFORNIA), and Brian Wilson certainly has no interest in using his harmonies just to sweeten the material; he is not afraid to make this his most fuck-all rocker to date. Like the album, this single is a staggering step forward on both sides. (A)
Be True to Your School (Capitol 1963)
It's not enough that several decades' worth of low-grade comedies have managed to defame the Beach Boys' classic music by using it in the most painfully obvious fashions (and moreover have been supported by the band in such action); thanks to this huge mistake, Baby Boomers get to turn off an entire generation from the band by shoving this wrong-headed horseshit down their throats. I never had school spirit and I turned out okay. I realize Brian had nothing but the most noble intentions for this song, and it *is* better than the icky album version, but it's bizarre and not a little disappointing to see the divine individualistic spirit of rock (exemplified so well on the brilliant and endlessly comforting b-side, "In My Room") reduced to a bunch of empty plugs for football games, cheerleaders, flying colors, and all the clichés beloved by so much of the establishment from which the music is supposed to provide an escape. Although it's technically a strong record, I'd rather listen to nearly anything else the Beach Boys released in the '60s. Of course, I can't say enough good things about "In My Room," certainly one of the finest songs of the rock era, and as such I think this seven-inch puts plainly on display the conflict of interest that not only makes the Beach Boys inacessible for many, but also fascinating for fans. The eternal question is... how on earth could the same person write both of these songs? And of course, we still don't know. This single mix of "Be True to Your School," with cheerleading by the Honeys is on GREATEST HITS VOL. 1. "In My Room" is from SURFER GIRL. (D+)
Little Saint Nick (Capitol 1963)
The Beach Boys' Christmas stunt was the result either of Capitol's unreasonable pressure for material or Brian's Phil Spector (who recorded the one great rock & roll Christmas album, A CHRISTMAS GIFT FOR YOU) obsession going overboard. Their now-standard "Little Saint Nick" is fun but forgettable, a parody of "Little Deuce Coupe" with seasonal lyrics. The b-side, the less secular "The Lord's Prayer," isn't as impressive as some of their other a cappella moments. To me this single seems like a precedent for the Beatles' fan club Christmas singles, a tradition upheld by mainstream acts like Pearl Jam and R.E.M. to this day. Really, the only people who would enjoy this at all when it's not December are hardcore fans. Nonetheless, the sleighbells are nice (and, interestingly, not Brian's idea) and it's one of the better Christmas rock tunes. (There aren't a lot of good ones.) This mix of "Little Saint Nick" has numerous overdubs not present on the CHRISTMAS ALBUM released a year later. ULTIMATE CHRISTMAS has it in stereo, but unfortunately the only place to find the original mono recording in print is the GOOD VIBRATIONS boxed set; you may have an easier time seeking out Capitol's original CHRISTMAS ALBUM compact disc, which is far cheaper. "The Lord's Prayer" is most readily found on HAWTHORNE, CALIFORNIA.(B-)
Fun, Fun, Fun (Capitol 1964)
At the beginning of 1964, it was this single that signalled the Beach Boys' coming of age into a much more important band than their previous work (save the SURFER GIRL album) suggested. To begin with, they proved themselves able to withstand the crushing tide of the British Invasion, landing this instant classic high on the charts at the peak of Beatlemania. And even if the b-side, "Why Do Fools Fall in Love?" (a Frankie Lymon cover from SHUT DOWN VOL. 2) is slight, "Fun, Fun, Fun" (in an alternate mix available on GREATEST HITS VOL. 1) doesn't need the help. Familiar but not derivative, the song takes a lead from Chuck Berry's records, treating "Johnny B. Goode" like a template of sorts as if Berry was an old country blues traditionalist, but transcends the boundaries even of rock & roll itself by commenting on teenage life the same way Berry commented on America and became rock's most thought-provoking poet. The Beach Boys track follows the adventures of a young girl in a fashion that is never trite and never stoops to the obvious by defining her by her looks or boyfriend. Instead, the character portrait Brian and Mike is witty and admiring ("She makes the Indy 500 look like a Roman chariot race"), not disrespectful. To some degree it is just a remarkable song about the inherent freedom (and imprisonment) of being young, but it also carries with it at least some trace of feminism and a more dimensional, sympathetic understanding of relationships than nearly anyone else in pop music ("You can come along with me 'cause we've got a lot of things to do now"). The subtlety of their message is what makes it so strong. Though the band easily topped it with "I Get Around," by its own standard "Fun, Fun, Fun" seems like the perfect humanistic rock song, to a degree the people who allowed it to be used in a TV commercial for a cruise line clearly don't have the capability to understand. (A+)
I Get Around (Capitol 1964)
The Beach Boys' first single to hit the top of the charts, in nothing less than the year of the Beatles and the Supremes' peaks, "I Get Around" is still gripping today, with its sparse instrumentation, dizzying chorus, and an attention-grabbing a capella intro. It also dares not only to evoke a fast-living youthful lifestyle but also to admit boredom with it ("I'm gettin' bugged drivin' up and down the same old strip"), allowing the two opposing forces in the Beach Boys' music to combine in a song of undeniable strength. In terms of pure rock & roll, this may be their finest recording, and with its ambitious production it encompasses the past while pointing ahead. Mix out the vocals and you end up with a track that borders on avant garde yet manages to remain infectious enough to grab the mainstream by its coattails. "I Get Around" is completely irresistible, and the b-side, "Don't Worry Baby," makes it one of the best 45rpm singles in existence. An older song from the last album SHUT DOWN VOLUME 2, "Don't Worry Baby" features production and melody that are as dazzing as ever. The song works, though, because of Brian's heartrending lead vocal and a stellar, comforting lyric that again is able to acknowledge the band's teenagers-and-cars roots while moving forward with a bracing honesty and ability to write love songs that ignore clichés. The woman in "Don't Worry Baby" is essentially a secondary character in Brian's internal torment over a drag race, of all things, but she overshadows the proceedings with her repeated chorus ("Everything will turn out all right"), and whatever the song's humble origins may be, this transcends them. By this point, the Beach Boys were creating music that simply could not be ignored. ("I Get Around" is from the album ALL SUMMER LONG; this is a mono mix of "Don't Worry, Baby" with a slightly longer fade currently found on GREATEST HITS VOL. 2.) (A+)
When I Grow Up (Capitol 1964)
My personal favorite Beach Boys single of the '60s (though "Wouldn't it Be Nice" might top it depending on my mood), this is the point when it all came together. With TODAY! forthcoming and the age of the rock album along with it, this is where the string of radio brilliance hits it peak after the untouchable string of "Surfin' U.S.A.," "Surfer Girl," "Fun, Fun, Fun," and "I Get Around." It's also the point when Brian Wilson's personal ruminations, usually reserved for buried album tracks ("Your Summer Dream," "The Warmth of the Sun," "Don't Back Down"), show their face in full on the radio, perhaps as a result of the mild success of "Don't Worry, Baby." "When I Grow Up (To Be a Man)" is among the saddest songs to ever hit the airwaves, a beautifully written (lyrically and otherwise) epitath to youth that examines the years to come with resignation. (Compare "Surf's Up.") The song is poignant because its curiosity is innocent at first ("Will I dig the same things..." etc.) while its growing insecurity takes the spotlight as the two minutes of engineered glory roll on. By the end, amid the tolling of the passing years ("16, 17..."), Mike Love and Brian Wilson's familiar voices are quietly accepting: "Won't last forever / It's kind of sad." And after a song like this, one wonders, where do you go? It took Brian some time to learn the answer, but "She Knows Me Too Well" offers a preview, with its painfully honest portrayal of unfairness in a relationship. It's a new kind of idea in the context of a pop recording. The Beach Boys' sophistication was growing beyond the reach of the radio by this point; "When I Grow Up" nonetheless became another major hit, and both songs were to be integral parts of the TODAY! album in 1965. (A+)
Wendy (Capitol 1964)
Released somewhat halfheartedly as a promo to plug the EP FOUR BY THE BEACH BOYS, which in turn was released to promote ALL SUMMER LONG, this single is an enjoyable sample of the Boys' more uncommercial work at the time. "Wendy" suffers from some clumsy lyrics but the track itself is fascinating, utilizing any number of innovative ideas -- the bassline is the intro, there's a synthesizer in the bridge, etc. "Little Honda," meanwhile, is one of my favorite Beach Boys songs, a stinging rocker about a motorcycle that focuses on what rock & roll is supposed to focus on -- escape and freedom. In the verses, Brian evokes rushing through a well-lit city in the night with nothing more than a lively guitar. His production and songwriting remain unstoppable. Both cuts are from ALL SUMMER LONG. (A)
Dance, Dance, Dance (Capitol 1964)
"Dance, Dance, Dance" (eventually on TODAY!) is clearly inspired by Phil Spector but it displays more than perhaps any other track how differently Brian Wilson works in comparison to the king of the wall of sound. There is an individual texture to each of the instruments here, and for that reason the song is a revelation in stereo (released as such in 2001 on HAWTHORNE, CALIFORNIA). You could spend hours dissecting the music in a cut like this, and it has one of the most surprising key changes I've heard. The production aside, though, the song is not particularly good -- it's the record that's great, but then, I have similar feelings about "Good Vibrations." A masterful record, not a masterful song... that's my story and I'm sticking to it. The b-side, "The Warmth of the Sun" from SHUT DOWN VOL. 2, manages both. (A-)
The Man with All the Toys (Capitol 1964)
The second seasonal single from the Beach Boys didn't do so well, although the album released at the same time was and is a major seller. My guess is that the lack of chart action for "The Man with All the Toys" has something to do with either its phenomenal length of a minute and a half or the really fucking annoying "oh!" after each line in the chorus: "He's the man (oh!) / With all (oh!) / The toys (oh!... oh!)." Grrr. But actually, this is quite a well-written song and is a marked improvement over the somewhat uninspired "Little Saint Nick," but then, consider how much the band had changed in the intervening year. Brian does a fine job alone on the b-side, "Blue Christmas." You can hear both songs on CHRISTMAS ALBUM, now in print under the name ULTIMATE CHRISTMAS, or just go into any public place with a Muzak machine after Thanksgiving and wait a few minutes. (B-)
Do You Wanna Dance (Capitol 1965)
To be quite honest, I am not familiar with the original by Bobby Freeman but I doubt it could top this. Brian Wilson has his most Spectorian moment here in a song from his most Spectorian album (TODAY!) as he loads down this cover, propelled by Dennis' vocals, with an impenetrable wall of sound. (This one's never been released in stereo but there is no way the effect could work so well with separated channels.) "Do You Wanna Dance" became one of the best opening tracks ever for an LP, and it works wonderfully as a punchy single too. "Please Let Me Wonder" from the same album is on the flip and displays the quieter side, with some achingly heartfelt lyrics and vocals in a Beach Boys classic that sounds like it had to involve some sort of divine intervention. (A)
Help Me Rhonda (Capitol 1965)
A bouncy, irresistible pop number from TODAY! is remade into a slimy, lumbering, fragmented single and becomes a #1 hit. In truth, the track remains enjoyable, if genuinely weird, but it has none of the vitality of the original. Despite its classic status, it's probably the weakest non-Christmas Beach Boys single since "Be True to Your School" and, with the retread of released material, seems to be the first sign of exhaustion from keeping up with the Beatles' breakneck pace. The b-side is TODAY!'s lovely "Kiss Me Baby," upstaging the hit easly. (The rerecording of "Rhonda" was later included on SUMMER DAYS.) (B+)
California Girls (Capitol 1965)
Strip away the vocals (though new member Bruce Johnston sounds nice) and the utterly hideous lyrics and you've got a classic in your hands that ushers in a new era (of arguable merit) for rock & roll. As it stands, this is a fine single but little else, and does little to continue the Beach Boys' forward momentum. The album, SUMMER DAYS, is another story, showing that even before RUBBER SOUL, Brian was switching his priorities. He does, however, consider this to be his favorite Beach Boys track. Flawed though it may be, it is one of their signature hits and undeniably a classic, but I'll take "I Get Around" any day. Nonetheless, the b-side "Let Him Run Wild" is just plain appalling. More than just a great rock song (that does a far better job of representing the album), it is searing with honesty, pain, and musical genius, the three key marks of Brian Wilson's skill. It has been said that it is about his anger at his father for having an affair, and given the raw intensity of the anguished vocals and lyrics, such a personal story would not be surprising. It makes "California Girls" sound like Pat Boone in a playful mood. (A-)
The Little Girl I Once Knew (Capitol 1965)
After shifting his attention seemingly to albums for some time (TODAY!, SUMMER DAYS), Brian Wilson returned to the AM market with his strongest single in over a year, and one of the most adventurous hits of the era. Unfortunately it wasn't much of a hit due to Capitol's immediate release of "Barbara Ann," and it never made it onto an album (the b-side, a cover of the Crystals' "There's No Other," is on PARTY!), but it provides an astounding bridge from the simple beauty of TODAY! and the unkempt, forceful big beat of SUMMER DAYS to the resonant warmth and romance of PET SOUNDS. It also has several seconds of silence after each verse, which may have had a hand in keeping it out of the hit parade. The vocals on this track are simply flawless, and the recording is among Brian's most fully realized (and woefully underappreciated) productions. Simply amazing. (Found presently on GREATEST HITS VOL. 2.) (A+)
Barbara Ann (Capitol 1965)
Brian's desire to spend extra time perfecting PET SOUNDS forced him to record one album, PARTY!, at a rapid pace with no overdubs and an acoustic "live" feel, including only a set of covers. It should have been a commercial and critical misfire, but it was a fascinating glimpse at the band's influences (particularly the Beatles), and it sold enormously well thanks to this #2 hit cover of the Regents' "Barbara Ann." Clumsily performed (intentionally) and poorly sung (mainly by Dean Torrence of Jan & Dean), its popularity is mystifying and it is nothing so much as annoying, particularly for fans since it stalled the rise of "The Little Girl I Once Knew" on the charts, perhaps a much more offensive crime than prematurely destroying PET SOUNDS with THE BEST OF THE BEACH BOYS, since there still aren't many people who are aware of "Little Girl." "Barbara Ann" and the rest of PARTY! should have been a fans-only experience. Hopefully it is today, but those damn oldies stations won't leave this thing alone. The b-side, SUMMER DAYS' "Girl Don't Tell me," is lovely. ("Barbara Ann" is heavily edited here; you can find this version on GREATEST HITS VOL. 1.) (B-)
Sloop John B (Capitol 1965)
One of the best and most influential folk-rock singles, "Sloop John B" updates a traditional number popularized by the Kingston Trio without any kind of a condescending or revisionist tone. The guitar work is magnificent, and of course the vocals are as fabulous as ever. Accusations that this is boring are bullshit. I also disagree with the widespread belief that this did not belong on PET SOUNDS; its themes of disenchantment and alienation fit perfectly into the cycle. The b-side "You're So Good to Me," off SUMMER DAYS, is a perfect love song, joyful, loud, and rocking, never once overstretching itself. One of the best hits from 1965, a year that saw former titans such as the Beach Boys and Beatles slipping from their titanic hold on radio glory and transferring their attentions to albums. (A+)
Caroline, No (Capitol 1966)
This in fact is not a "Beach Boys" single, as the only credit goes to Brian Wilson (making him long eligible for the R&R Hall of Fame... hellooooo, people!?), but since it is from PET SOUNDS I count it with all the others. The second advance single from that album is perhaps its most melancholy, resigned track, a funeral march backing Brian as he sings of the pains of lost love. The flute solo is a spectacular left-field addition, making this vibrantly moody track unforgettable. The instrumental b-side "Summer Means New Love," from SUMMER DAYS (AND SUMMER NIGHTS!!) is a nice mood piece that foreshadows PET SOUNDS. ("Caroline, No" on this single is an edit that removes the dogs-and-trains coda that closes the album. This edit is now available on GREATEST HITS VOL. 2.) (A+)
Wouldn't it Be Nice (Capitol 1966)
A glistening ode not so much to young love as to unrequited desire in general (metaphors, people), "Wouldn't it Be Nice" is my vote for the strongest single of the late '60s aside from the Beatles' famous pre-PEPPER double-A one year later. It brings new meaning to the term "ear candy" and is a perfect example of the way PET SOUNDS, to borrow a cliché, translates raw emotion into music that reflects it more perfectly than words ever could (not that the words are not strong). I cannot begin to speak about the b-side, "God Only Knows" without exploding with hyperbole, so I will not, but I do strongly believe it to be the loveliest pop recording made to date (2003) and I don't think anyone's going to top it for me anytime soon. There is an indescribable warmth on this record that transcends the boundaries of seven-inch vinyl. Enjoy. (Note: This mix of "Wouldn't it Be Nice" has a lead vocal that is completely different from the one on PET SOUNDS. Mark Linnett, in his tireless quest to deny this version's existence, left it off the SESSIONS box, and for equally incomprehensible reasons, Andrew Sandoval failed to put it on GREATEST HITS VOL. 1. If you want it you will have to search the used bins. It ironically ended up on the Beach Boys' penultimate album, STILL CRUISIN', along with a pair of other old tracks. It's also on the compilation MADE IN U.S.A., which, like CRUISIN', is out of print but not difficult to locate.) (A+)
Good Vibrations (Capitol 1966)
Am I the only one who finds the title really funny? People laugh about "Crack at Your Love," but geez. First of all, this is one of the most brilliant rock singles ever, blah blah blah, took six months to record, Brian Wilson's most ambitious project, etc. It's also overrated and overplayed beyond every trace of logic. The backing track is lovely and emotive and, y'know, weird in a good way, and there's a certain delight in a song with such ample use of theremin becoming the band's third and last (until 1988, and that Song Whose Name We Must Never Mention doesn't count) #1 hit. But my God. The lyrics are the worst in a Beach Boys composition since "California Girls," and before you call me a Mike-basher, I don't like Tony Asher's original lyrics either. Brian didn't know where to go with this song just like he never knew where to go with SMILE. That doesn't change, obviously, the fact that it's an astonishing track and it's certainly smoother, at least, than "Heroes and Villains." Why, however, do so many people define it as a peak? It doesn't have the emotion of PET SOUNDS or the beauty of SMILE and even SMILEY SMILE (on which "Good Vibrations" is collected and sounds laughably jarring). It's just the commercial bid in between to keep the kids interested. The key is, if you take away the great production, do you still have a great song? No. It is not half as intriguing as "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "Penny Lane," the Beatles' corresponding "breakthrough," which had the audacity to move forward with revolutionary mid-'60s production while bursting with some of John and Paul's most human moments, their lyrics and singing marked by naked confession, memory, desire, etc. "Good Vibrations" may as well be "Fun, Fun, Fun" with a bigger budget. That doesn't mean it's not outstanding, just that it is not the landmark it earns credit for being, and just as I don't feel at home with "California Girls" and "Help Me, Rhonda," I don't feel at home with it, and that's a big disappointment from a Beach Boys record. I admit that I would feel differently without Sunkist commercials and pop culture overload. It would be easier for me to appreciate the song without all the feedback and history, and I do love it, but it is no "Strawberry Fields" and it is certainly no "Wouldn't it Be Nice." My love for the PET SOUNDS instrumental b-side, "Let's Go Away for Awhile," remains unconditional, of course. (A)
[Note: In 2006, to commemorate the 40th anniversary of this single, Capitol released a CD single containing the original track, several previously-released alternate versions, and "artwork from around the world." Early rumors that a stereo mix of the song would finally be unveiled proved erroneous.]
Heroes & Villains (Brother/Capitol 1967)
Though it pales in comparison to the originally intended version, removing my personal favorite part of the song (the "in the cantina" section), this sounds fantastic 'till you hear the SMILE mix. Jimi Hendrix called this "psychedelic barbershop" and I'm pretty sure he meant it in a derogatory fashion, but he's right. (He had the ears and the talent, but not the taste.) At the time this single was released, SMILE still seemed like it might happen eventually, and this was the big sampler, delivered personally to an L.A. radio station by Brian Wilson. It became something of a hit but not a major one. Critics were fond of it, maybe or maybe not because it was nice to hear a California band that wasn't from San Francisco have a hit again, and it broke the top twenty, but now it's fairly obscure. Compare it to the dime-store surrealism of the Doors or Jefferson Airplane and you can maybe understand why; psychedelia was fine until it required a brain, so this choice cut dwindled. It's still a landmark single, as distinctive and lively as "Good Vibrations" and far less overexposed. Any track that divides itself obscurely into "sections" like an opera is open to accusations of pretension, of course, and this track is SMILE at its most pretentious. It's important to remember that "Heroes and Villains" was designed as a theme of sorts to the album, to be repeated. (In some respects, I'm thankful SMILE never saw the light of day, smart and pretty as it may have been.) Anyway, my favorite section is the a cappella bit toward the end, and I think the stripping down of the SMILE tracks on SMILEY SMILE is intriguing to say the least, this being one of the most enjoyable examples. Unlike H&V, the beautiful b-side "You're Welcome" was never placed on an album. At a minute and ten seconds, it's the shortest b-side of a top forty hit ever. You can hear it on the SMILEY SMILE/WILD HONEY twofer. (A)
Gettin' Hungry (Brother/Capitol 1967)
Compared to the Beach Boys' work in 1967, the Velvet Underground must have seemed trendy. SMILEY SMILE's "Gettin' Hungry" is credited solely to Brian & Mike and sounds almost maddeningly bare and minimalistic. You cannot hear this ridiculously uncommercial track without drawing a line to alternative rock in the decades to follow. However, the chorus does sound a bit like Stone Temple Pilots or something. Rounding out the weirdness is an old Everly Brothers cover, "Devoted to You," from PARTY! (B)
Wild Honey (Capitol 1967)
On the first single from the album of the same name, Carl Wilson's voice breaks and howls love lyrics ferociously over an expressively crazed backing track. Any questions? For a band to release a single so obviously derived from uncompromising R&B in this period was a genuine act of surrealism as rampant as "White Rabbit." The creepy b-side "Wind Chimes" (SMILEY SMILE) is scarier than anything in the Doors' catalog. (A-)
Darlin' (Capitol 1967)
Against the tide of a pop culture wave that crushed the creativity of even the Beatles for a time (MAGICAL MYSTERY TOUR), the Beach Boys continued unabated, untouched by the psychedelic trend they had brought to the mainstream with "Good Vibrations." It is impossible to express how out of place "Darlin'" is in comparison to the work of other rock bands at the time. It is a blue-eyed slice of soulful joy, infectious, danceable, and explosive. Name another band that could evoke Motown so convingly while retaining their own signature sound. (In relation to the accompanying album, WILD HONEY, name another band that would cover a Stevie Wonder song -- "I Was Made to Love Her" -- in 1967.) The b-side is "Here Today," the one dispensable cut from PET SOUNDS. It is everything the A-side isn't -- dated, labored, and cloying. (A+)
Friends (Capitol 1968)
The title cut from the best Beach Boys album since PET SOUNDS is one of the most wonderfully unusual singles of the late '60s. It even got some airplay, though the major bomb of an LP didn't break #100. The hysterically earnest (sincere? sarcastic?) lyrics are enjoyable, but the song is appealing because they clash so horribly with the eerie music, with some beautiful vocals. The effect is of laid-back, artsy fun, representative of the pleasures of the album FRIENDS, which goes much farther with the concept. One wishes at least one other single from it had been released so that someone outside of a few rock critics may have noticed how great it was. Dennis' b-side, "Little Bird," also from FRIENDS, is one of his loveliest songs and showcases his increasing evolution as a songwriter and vocalist. (A)
Do it Again (Capitol 1968)
You could make a case that the Beach Boys' downward spiral had to do with this song, on which for the first time their grappling for past glories is audible. Too bad the song is so great. Punchy lyrics, their best intro since the PET SOUNDS era, and some ace rhythmic work from Dennis Wilson make this a classic... and a gold record badly needed at the time. The b-side is the even more delightful "Wake the World," with its infectious tuba line, from FRIENDS. "Do it Again" was not released to promote an album but was indeed later collected on 20/20 with a new tag. The version with a clean ending can now be heard on GREATEST HITS VOL. 2. (A)
Bluebirds Over the Mountain (Capitol 1968)
Not sure what to make of this one, but I like it. Probably the Beach Boys' strangest choice for a cover, Ersel Hickey's regional hit is given some much-needed life by some fine electric guitar work. Even when they're attempting to be commercial, though, the band simply does not sound at home in 1968, which may be why their work has survived. Great bass vocals from Mike. The b-side is "Never Learn Not to Love," the infamous Manson track. The songs are clipped from the album 20/20, released several months later. (B)
I Can Hear Music (Capitol 1969)
Carl Wilson produced this Ronettes cover alone, and the results are staggering. Even Brian's Spector tributes can't stand up to this one. With the possible exception of "Hushabye," this may be the greatest cover in Beach Boys history -- and certainly one of the best I've heard by any act. The Ronettes' original is a fine track, but the Beach Boys' is swirling, intoxicating, and enormously moving. Not to be missed. Dennis Wilson's cock-rock parody "All I Want to Do" (compare the Beatles' "Why Don't We Do it in the Road?") is most notable for Mike Love's awkward vocals and the sound of a Charles Manson orgy in the fadeout. Both songs are on 20/20. (A+)
Breakaway (Capitol 1969)
Supposedly written with Murry Wilson, "Breakaway" is a whirlwind of a track, more affecting in its own way than the equally loopy "Good Vibrations." Alternately psychedelic and personal, "Breakaway" is an ode to independence that still resonates today, while Dennis' fantastic "Celebrate the News" juggles with the same themes. Every moment of "Breakaway" is stellar pop brilliance -- it's ashame Capitol's extensive marketing for this one never paid off. In "Celebrate the News," Dennis' brilliance continues to blossom before its ultimate fulfillment on the following year's SUNFLOWER. Neither song was tied to an album, but "Breakaway" is widely available, most accessibly on GREATEST HITS VOL. 2; "Celebrate the News" is included as a bonus track on the twofer CD containing FRIENDS and 20/20. It's interesting, incidentally, that two songs about liberation should appear concurrently with the band's departure from Capitol. (A+)
Cotton Fields (Capitol 1970)
Al Jardine helped the Beach Boys score a hit in 1965 by introducing Brian to "Sloop John B"; here he gives another folk tune a shot for the Beach Boys' final Capitol single. Brian Wilson had produced a version for 20/20 that evidently did not satisfy Jardine, and indeed this new take on Leadbelly's standard is an improvement. The addition of stray lyrics by Al here and there remains questionable. The performance is quite good, but they ain't the Byrds. "The Nearest Faraway Place," the b-side, is Bruce Johnston's oddball instrumental score for a Disney film that doesn't exist from 20/20. One of the more bizarre Beach Boys releases. You can hear the single version of "Cotton Fields" on GREATEST HITS VOL. 2. (B+)
Add Some Music to Your Day (Brother/Reprise 1970)
At first listen, this landmark single (the first non-Capitol release for probably the band most identified with the label) is something of a disappointment -- the production is a bit clunky, the lyrics mildly pretentious. After hearing it a few times, though, check out Carl and Bruce's vocals and the "I close my tired eyes" bit and tell me that it couldn't make somebody a believer in what it celebrates. Al's odd b-side "Susie Cincinnati" (in its rare original mix, now in print on GREATEST HITS VOL. 3) is so slight it's hard to form an opinion about it; fortunately it was cut from the album to follow, SUNFLOWER, from which "Add Some Music" is taken. (B+)
This Whole World (Brother/Reprise 1970)
Their most joyfully exuberant production since "Good Vibrations" and a masterpiece by just about any standard, "This Whole World" is one of the finest songs Brian Wilson ever wrote. With simplistic lyrics, an arresting melody, inventive songwriting (with some startling chords and key changes), and of course marvellous vocals, there is simply nothing here you cannot adore. It's one of the loveliest songs you'll ever hear, and is just as suited for a drive with the windows rolled down as any of the hits from the Beach Boys' heyday. Only complaint: it ends far too early. The inclusion of Dennis' unapologetically erotic "Slip on Through" makes this a real 45rpm treasure. Both from SUNFLOWER. (A+)
Tears in the Morning (Brother/Reprise 1970)
The release of "Tears in the Morning" as a single is mysterious, given not only that it is easily the weakest track on the blissful SUNFLOWER, but that it's also written and sung by the most low-profile (at least until his work with Barry Manilow) Beach Boy, Bruce Johnston. Nonetheless, the rather grating song became a major hit in England. The b-side, "It's About Time," is much better. Both cuts from SUNFLOWER. (D+)
Cool, Cool Water (Brother/Reprise 1971)
At just 3:55, this abbreviated version of "Cool, Cool Water" is unable to achieve the majesty of the album cut but is spectacular nonetheless. In possibly the Beach Boys' most elaborate and playful post-SMILE production, they sing the praises of water accompanied by few instruments. The vocals wrap around one another in a classic doo-wop tradition, but more than anything, on an individual basis they recall improvisational jazz singing. The song's intricately connected melody lines recall Brian's "Let's Go Away for Awhile" and make it all the more delightful with each repeated listen. Dennis Wilson's bracing love song "Forever" from SUNFLOWER is the b-side. The edit of "Cool, Cool Water" is now unavailable but was released on compact disc as part of the pricey TEN YEARS OF HARMONY package, now next to impossible to find. (A)
Long Promised Road (Brother/Reprise 1971)
The first single from SURF'S UP, "Long Promised Road" marks Carl Wilson's coming of age as composer. It bears little resemblance to the familiar Beach Boys sound, instead opting for minimal textures, a hard-rock chorus, and almost no background vocals. Carl's fabulous vocal performance (and the excellent lyrics by Carl and Jack Rieley) are the star of the performance, and in fact the song blended well with the hits of the time and became something of a success, as did SURF'S UP. (This version of the track removes the intro and is now only available on the GOOD VIBRATIONS boxed set.) Bruce Johnston's glorious "Deirdre" from SUNFLOWER is the flip. (A-)
'Til I Die (Brother/Reprise 1971)
Perhaps Brian Wilson's most unabashedly personal lyric coupled with some of the Beach Boys' most painfully beautiful harmonies and truly oceanic production, "'Til I Die" is a masterpiece of bitter sadness unlike anything else in the band's catalog. It is gorgeous but unforgiving and harsh, the voices swirling around a ghostly organ and minimal percussion; only the wonderful (resigned and accepting) coda offers a refuge from the desperation. The Beach Boys' previous single, Carl Wilson's fine "Long Promised Road" appears as the b-side; both tracks are from SURF'S UP. (A+)
Surf's Up (Brother/Reprise 1972)
"Surf's Up" is beyond intense. It wounds. Van Dyke Parks' lyrics are as obtuse as ever but they are a thinly veiled paean to extreme, resigned loss. Of what? I think the point is that you decide. The woeful ballad is a climax of Brian's career; even the song itself seems to tell the story of everything ripped away from his life. The "Child is the Father of the Man" coda that closes the song is the single most moving moment in the Beach Boys' catalog, perhaps second only to the close of "When I Grow Up." Musically, of course, the brilliance is less willing to conform to verbalization. An elaborate production that morphs into a delicate piano ballad and back to sonic oblivion in four minutes, "Surf's Up" is devine, and you're unlikely to find a more ferociously brilliant single from its period. "Don't Go Near the Water" from the SURF'S UP album is on the b-side and pales in comparison. The album's title track is here presented in a marginally different mix which is found on the GOOD VIBRATIONS boxed set. (A+)
You Need a Mess of Help to Stand Alone (Brother/Reprise 1972)
In 1967, the Beach Boys followed the epic PET SOUNDS in probably the least expected fashion, with a humorous, quiet, subtle opus they called SMILEY SMILE. After "Surf's Up," which runs neck and neck with the Modern Lovers' "Roadrunner" as the greatest single of the decade, they recruited two South African musicians and threw this bizarro, country-funk single out. Depending on your age group or tastes on music, it will remind you either of Little Feat or a more soulful version of the Dave Matthews Band. The grinding vocals, heavy percussion, and the hook provided by, of all things, a fiddle make this perhaps the most unique single in the band's catalog. The strangeness continues with Dennis' "Cuddle Up." Today it will make you think of Danny Elfman doing string arrangements for the Smashing Pumpkins (only with a better singer). I'm not sure what precedent it had at the time. You will either adore it or find it astonishingly cheesy. The two tracks are not particularly representative of the album that followed, SO TOUGH, but no two tracks from it (and it only has eight, after all) could have been. (B+)
Marcella (Brother/Reprise 1972)
A grinding Stones-y rocker that (lyrically, at least) returns us to the bright, summertime Beach Boys days of yore with more delicacy and genius than the admittedly spectacular "Do it Again." It's been said that this is one of Brian's proudest achievements as a composer (he surprised many by including it on CLASSICS), and no wonder; it is a song that reveals its secrets to you over time and slowly wraps itself around the listener. Awesome lyrics, too. And I don't know if it's even comparable, but I may like the b-side "Hold on Dear Brother" even better. Written by new members Ricky Fataar and Blondie Chaplin, it is a remarkable soul-folk-country fusion number with crushing sadness and incredible vocals. These two songs of remarkable depth come from an album that, lo and behold, dares to take its time, much like "Marcella" itself. Once among my least beloved Beach Boys albums, CARL & THE PASSIONS: SO TOUGH is now a frequent and delightful listen. (A-)
Sail on Sailor (Brother/Reprise 1973)
Blondie Chaplin takes the lead on what must be the last Beach Boys single that impresses in a truly classic sense. Like their first major hit, "Surfin' U.S.A.," it evokes crashing waves, in its words, vocals, music, rhythm, and nearly every respect, and Chaplin's vocal performance turns some relatively mediocre lyrics into something haunting and revelatory. The song is surprisingly popular today, and it's no wonder -- on the first few listens, at least, it explodes on impact, particularly heard by a person unaware of the ethereal qualities of the Beach Boys post-PET SOUNDS. Although the production wheezes a bit (in contrast to most of HOLLAND), the record is virtually flawless, though it does undeniably seem engineered to be a "hit single." In fact, it was recorded specifically for that purpose (HOLLAND had been rejected by Warners on first attempt). Sure, there was similar motivation behind many of the Beach Boys' classics, but those records had a degree of subtlety alien to at least two of this song's (whopping) four cowriters. I maintain that Brian is best on his own, but this is quibbling, and "Sail on Sailor" is a deserved classic. It's probably the only Beach Boys song you'll ever hear consistently on a so-called "classic rock" station. Dennis' b-side, "Only with You," is nearly as gorgeous is "Forever." Both songs are from HOLLAND. (A-)
California (Brother/Reprise 1973)
Alan Jardine's finest hour by a longshot, this lovely, lyrical portrait of the eponymous state concentrates not on surfing but on scenery and history, wanderlust and spiritual renewal, the themes of the HOLLAND album. The song sounds far better on the LP (where it is part of the "California Saga"), but the bass line (lifted from "California Girls"), Mike's vocal performance, and the brilliantly constructed melody and words are still a treasure, and even better, they're backed by the excellent "Funky Pretty" from HOLLAND. GREATEST HITS VOL. 3 has the single mix of "California." (A-)
Child of Winter (Brother/Reprise 1974)
This single is nearly impossible to find and the song was heard by next to no one until the release of ULTIMATE CHRISTMAS in 1998. Released basically for no reason (two days before Christmas, i.e. commercial suicide) by Brian with limited involvement from the others, this crazed seasonal rock opera rambles like there's no Boxing Day, copping melodies from other Beach Boys songs and traditional carols and even lending a few elements the band later thieved (in "Some of Your Love"). The point is, the song and its existence are incomprehensible. Fans will appreciate it because they will find it funny (and because Brian's Christmas character sounds like a reprise of his Pied Piper character from MT. VERNON & FAIRWAY; maybe that's the only funny voice Brian could manage in the early-to-mid '70s). Everyone else will just be either bored or terrified. If you're so inclined, you can catch "Child of Winter (Christmas Song)" on the ULTIMATE CHRISTMAS package. The b-side is a (slightly) new mix of "Susie Cincinnati," later issued on 15 BIG ONES. (B-)
Rock & Roll Music (Brother/Reprise 1976)
Not counting my personal vendetta against "Be True to Your School," this has to be the weakest Beach Boys single to date, except perhaps "Ten Little Indians." The band butchers Chuck Berry's classic, draining all of the "rock & roll" until it has virtually no meaning. It only gets two stars because it's slightly better than the thudding album version. It's a masterpiece compared to the b-side, the deliriously stupid Maharishi hymn, "TM Song," which opens with some horrendously-acted band "infighting." Welcome to the land past the peak, fellas. (Single mix now available on GREATEST HITS VOL. 3.) (D+)
It's OK (Brother/Reprise 1976)
A tighter mix of this rocking original from 15 BIG ONES proves all along that all the album needed was better production (and fewer covers). The b-side, "Had to Phone Ya," is the regular version, and it's a Brian Wilson classic, wonderful, catchy, and eccentric as ever. You can hear the single mix of "It's OK" on GREATEST HITS VOL. 3. (B+)
Susie Cincinnati (Brother/Reprise 1977)
Al Jardine's bizarre ode to an amorous housewife is the third (and by far the least successful) single from 15 BIG ONES, backed by Mike Love's horrid "Everyone's in Love with You." Susie's appearance on 7" is odd since the track seemed to be the stock choice for a b-side in the first half of the decade. This single uses the album mix, which actually originated on 1974's "Child of Winter" single. The differences between it and the original from 1970 won't be discerned by anyone but the most hardcore fans. (C+)
Honkin' Down the Highway (Brother/Reprise 1977)
There are numerous songs on LOVE YOU better than the two chosen to represent it on the leadoff single, but the album is so good that even these lesser cuts make quite an impression. "Honkin' Down the Highway" could only have been written by one man, and it's delightfully infectious. "Solar System" is less percussive but still surprisingly insistent, with some wildly giddy lyrics. A strange choice for a single, to be sure, but still great stuff. The drum intro of "Honkin'" is edited out on the single. (That edit was accidentally included on Sony's original LOVE YOU CD but is now out of print.) (A)
Mona (Brother/Reprise 1978)
One of the best singles of the '70s, "Mona" is a prime exhibit of Brian Wilson's minimalist genius. The song could practically be Talking Heads or Modern Lovers, yet it's distinctly the Beach Boys because their voice remains unique. From the touching, hysterical lyrics to the delirious circular songwriting and sparse but spacey instrumentation, not to mention Denny's lovably gruff vocal, rock and roll has rarely sounded this good since its heyday. The Beach Boys were more relevant than ever in 1978; it's ashame the band and Brian could not keep up the pace because their work in this period is truly brilliant. And the Phil Spector reference is just wonderful. From LOVE YOU. (The b-side, "Rock and Roll Music," is the album mix from 15 BIG ONES.) (A+)
Peggy Sue (Brother/Reprise 1978)
The Beach Boys' last single on Reprise is a turgid cover of Buddy Holly's "Peggy Sue"; Al Jardine's "wall of sound" is pathetic, but even it sounds good next to Brian's utterly vile "Hey Little Tomboy." Forget this one altogether, and unless you're a hardcore fan forget MIU ALBUM, from which both tracks are taken, as well. ("Peggy Sue," somewhat inexplicably, became a hit.) (D)
Here Comes the Night (Brother/Caribou 1978)
On the heels of the Beach Boys' biggest failure to date (MIU ALBUM) comes their biggest risk in years; their first single for Caribou/CBS Records is a delightfully nutzo eleven-minute disco remake of WILD HONEY's "Here Comes the Night." This is not a bid for commercialism; otherwise, wouldn't the band have used one of their recognizable hits? And their exploration of an unfamiliar style works dramatically well; the harmonies are incredible. Fans booed the band off the stage when this was performed, but fuck 'em; it's a real keeper. The b-side, Dennis' "Baby Blue," is absolutely spine-chilling and probably the last Beach Boys song that could easily be described as breathtaking. Both tracks released several months afterward on L.A. (LIGHT ALBUM). (B+)
Good Timin' (Brother/Caribou 1979)
Slightly in advance of L.A. (LIGHT ALBUM) came its second single, "Good Timin'," a rare collaboration between Brian and Carl with gorgeous harmonies but thudding cookie-cutter adult pop production that renders it somewhat lifeless. The rest of the album takes more chances, as indicated by "Love Surrounds Me," Dennis' kinky reggae-infected b-side. Both songs are album mixes. (B)
Lady Lynda (Brother/Caribou 1979)
Though it's a tad pretentious, Al Jardine's Bach-derived tribute to his then-wife comes across as an unabashed love ditty that never feels overwrought. The harmonies are killer. "Full Sail" is one of Carl Wilson's generic adult contemporary numbers, worth skipping but not particularly bad. Both from L.A. (LIGHT ALBUM). (B-)
Sumahama (Brother/Caribou 1979)
An oddity to end all oddities, Mike Love's elaborate Japanese fable is not particularly impressive but undeniably infectious, and really nothing to be ashamed of. The fourth single from L.A. uses the same b-side as the last one, "Full Sail." (B)
Keepin' the Summer Alive (Brother/Caribou 1980)
A great hook, fine vocals, and a true rock spirit. The stinging title track of KEEPIN' THE SUMMER ALIVE released in advance of the album kept hopes high for the first Beach Boys LP of the '80s, particularly since L.A. (LIGHT ALBUM) had been something of a return to form. Only disappointment would follow, as indicated by the flipside, the awful "When Girls Get Together," which is a much more accurate summary of the quality of the forthcoming record, despite its being recorded a decade earlier. Both tracks are the album mixes from KTSA. (B)
Livin' with a Heartache (Brother/Caribou 1980)
This country-ish number written by Carl with Randy Bachman is something of a guilty pleasure of mine but I'm really not sure if I should even be feeling guilty. Carl's vocals on the track are staggering, and it has just the right degree of subtlety, even though it doesn't really distinguish itself from the miles of similar material in the marketplace. That voice makes it all worthwhile. The b-side "Santa Ana Winds" is a forgettably hokey stab at folk-rock, about fifteen years late. Both from KEEPIN' THE SUMMER ALIVE. (B+)
Goin' On (Brother/Caribou 1980)
Virtually indistinguishable from the previous year's "Good Timin'," this slight, somewhat lifeless song was actually one of the few highlights of KEEPIN' THE SUMMER ALIVE. On its own it became a minor hit. The b-side is the unlistenable "Endless Harmony" from the same album. (B-)
School Day (Brother/Caribou 1981)
Plodding Chuck Berry wannabe crap. Avoid the A-side, listen to the B-side "Livin' with a Heartache" instead. Both from KEEPIN' THE SUMMER ALIVE, although "School Day" is edited with the intro chopped. This single was barely released (possibly not released at all, though copies have been leaked), with good reason. The edit is basically impossible to find unless you can track down an original vinyl copy of TEN YEARS OF HARMONY. (D)
It's a Beautiful Day (Brother/Caribou 1981)
This enjoyable fluff is a much more convincing stab at '80s credibility than the better-known "Kokomo." It's still pretty innocuous and became, except for a pair of old obscurities from the vaults on the TEN YEARS OF HARMONY collection, the last new song released by the Beach Boys for two years. Mike Love's possibly kinky Japanese adventure "Sumahama" from L.A. (LIGHT ALBUM) is used somewhat randomly as the b-side. (B-)
Come Go with Me (Brother/Caribou 1982)
A relatively huge hit for the Beach Boys, this cover of the Del Vikings' "Come Go with Me" sat undiscovered on their rightfully ignored MIU ALBUM for roughly four years before someone at CBS Records got the bright idea to release it as a single from their compilation TEN YEARS OF HARMONY (which, incidentally, uses a different and superior mix). For whatever reason, it was an enormous success and a much-needed one. Nonetheless, it's pretty forgettable, though it is mildly interesting if only for the fact that Al Jardine sounds for all the world like a woman on it. Why people went nuts over this I'll never know. The b-side is the unremarkable but certainly far better "Don't Go Near the Water," from SURF'S UP. (C-)
Beach Boys Medley (Capitol 1983)
One of the most bizarre hits -- and yes, it was a hit -- of its time, this clumsily strewn-together collage of bits and pieces from All Your Beach Boy Favorites is particularly irredemible when you consider that it was done with the band's approval; it wasn't just a record label's grab for cash like Capitol's concurrent Beatles "Movie Medley." What's more, the band, evidently in need of some money itself (maybe they should've gone in the studio a little more often?) appeared on shows like AMERICAN BANDSTAND and TOP OF THE POPS lip-syncing to the damn thing. And for totally incomprehensible reasons, "Sunshine," a plodding reggae-lite obscurity licensed from Caribou (from KEEPIN' THE SUMMER ALIVE) is thrown onto the b-side. Capitol's idea of surrealism, or what? (The medley, if for some reason you actually want to hear it, is tacked onto the end of the CD of RARITIES along with the claim that the single was released to "promote" the LP, released around the same time. Good idea... let's promote an album of obscure material with a bunch of hits welded down to three minutes. Hmm.) (F)
Chasin' the Sky/East Meets West (Brother/Caribou 1983)
A double-A nightmare from the Beach Boys which seems to have been released solely to keep the band in the marketplace when they were completely disinterested in recording (plus, Caribou had to react to the ridiculously successful "Medley" somehow). "Chasin' the Sky" is loopy soundtrack nostalgia that seems at a loss to justify its own existence. "East Meets West" is a laughably stupid collaboration with the Four Seasons, who are no better in 1983 than they were in the '60s when the once-great Beach Boys left them choking on dust along with most everyone else in the U.S. This was the band's last release before Dennis' death and their only significant offering between TEN YEARS OF HARMONY (1982) and THE BEACH BOYS (1985). (B-/D-)
Getcha Back (Brother/Caribou 1985)
Though it's basically a rewrite of the far greater "Do it Again," right down to the monstrous drum intro and Mike Love's trite rememberance-of-things-past lyrics, the post-Dennis comeback "Getcha Back" is inoffensive junk (the good kind), ushering in a period of optimism for the album to follow (THE BEACH BOYS), but then, KEEPIN' THE SUMMER ALIVE had a great advance single too. Brian's falsetto bit is breathtaking. The b-side, Brian's appallingly unsubtle "Male Ego," is one of his weakest songs ever, but it's not on the album. (It is, however, a bonus track on all of the CD reissues.) (B-)
She Believes in Love Again (Brother/Caribou 1985)
One of Bruce Johnston's more appealing songs, lifted by wonderful vocals from Carl Wilson. It's sadly weighted down with power-ballad production, but with someone other than Steve Levine at the helm it could practically have been on PET SOUNDS and not sounded out of place (note that I didn't say "inferior"). Even with the mild, inoffensive mix, it's great to hear the Beach Boys trying new things -- you can tell they honestly want to be vital, they're not just posturing for bucks. Speaking of posturing, "It's Just a Matter of Time," Brian's ecchy faux-doowop b-side, gives you plenty of it. Both songs from THE BEACH BOYS. (B-)
It's Gettin' Late (Brother/Caribou 1986)
The last great Beach Boys single (and incidentally their last on CBS), "It's Gettin' Late" is an anomaly in their '80s work, but a glorious one nonetheless. Carl Wilson sounds urgent and energized on a track that wouldn't have sounded out of place on an R&B radio station in 1986. Carl Wilson, as usual, makes more leaps than anyone in the band to be contemporary (often a curse for many, but a blessing for Carl) and adventurous, and he succeeds with flying colors here. The song truly kicks, and so does the b-side, but it's unfortunately from 1976 ("It's OK" from 15 BIG ONES). "It's Gettin' Late" is from the eponymous '85 album on Caribou. (A-)
Rock 'N' Roll to the Rescue (Brother/Capitol 1986)
The Beach Boys were dropped from CBS at the beginning of 1986, but the situation was eradicated when the band made a few false promises and were re-signed to Capitol after a sixteen-year absence. The reunion was hyped as a huge comeback in the making, as if the artistic and commercial success (however scattered) of the previous decade and a half had never happened. The first Capitol Beach Boys single since "Cotton Fields" (not counting "Medley") was not exactly promising. Brian Wilson sings the lead, however, and sounds fantastic, to put it mildly. But that is the only saving grace of a pretentious wad of Melcher-and-Loveisms. Try though it may to rock, it just sounds silly, and try as it may to recapture past glories, it sounds more like "California Calling" than "California Girls." Worth hearing for Brian, though. This single, backed by the performance of "Good Vibrations" from LIVE IN LONDON, oddly enough, was an advance release from the 25th anniversary compilation MADE IN U.S.A and one of two new songs included on that package. (C)
California Dreamin' (Capitol 1986)
Oh, the irony! The Beach Boys, one of rock's greatest visionary groups, here stands twenty years after their golden era covering a song of perhaps their most blatant imitator, the Mamas and the Papas, who essentially fused the BBs' harmony and pop commitment with trite emotion and a few female voices. Historical revisionism of the peace-and-love variety has been much kinder to the latter band than the former, so this development isn't really a surprise, but it does say a lot that the Beach Boys' version sounds almost exactly like the original, and in fact is probably better in some ways. It's still a pathetic song. Despite what your parents tell you, it was just as pathetic in 1965. The original "California Dreamin'" is such an obvious Brian Wilson rip (not a tribute, not an homage, since none of the late-'60s California groups would be caught dead praising the Beach Boys), it's hard to tell the difference. Do I have an axe to grind? Maybe, but not because of Brian's shadow on Cass Elliott and company so much as their infuriating cover of "I Call Your Name," one of the best songs John Lennon ever wrote turned into one of the most sterile, wrongheaded moments in rock history. And, again, go figure -- within a year Mike Love would be writing songs with John Phillips and attempting to capture the "classic sound"; all would walk away, minus Brian, with a #1 hit in "Kokomo." "California Dreamin'" is from the compilation MADE IN U.S.A.; the b-side is just the hit "Help Me Rhonda," from SUMMER DAYS. This "California Dreamin'" cover received honorable (?) mention in the Dead Milkmen's single "Punk Rock Girl." (D)
Wipe Out (Capitol 1987)
Just what are the Beach Boys trying to prove here? That they're black at heart? On the A-side they back the Fat Boys on an insipid rap based on the Surfaris' "Wipe Out." On the B-side "Happy Endings" they make a sterile attempt at collaborating with Little Richard; the result is one of the worst recordings of the decade. By now surely Capitol realized they jumped too soon re-signing the Beach Boys, with the release date of the supposed new album edging farther and farther away. "Happy Endings" is not in print; "Wipe Out" was questionably included on the 1989 album STILL CRUISIN'. (D)
Kokomo (Elektra/Capitol 1988)
A quick rewrite of a song John Phillips wrote in the early '80s recorded in the space of an hour, without a hint of participation from Brian Wilson, "Kokomo" is nothing more or less than airy, catchy travesty, a soundtrack throwaway for a Tom Cruise movie (COCKTAIL). But Carl Wilson's voice remains astounding even in 1988 (unfortunately, Mike takes the lead), and producer Terry Melcher's skills with the band's instruments and vocal blend is an undeniable recipe for commercial fervor. The b-side, "Lady Liberty" is a patriotic rewrite of the Beach Boys' '70s hit "Lady Lynda"; it makes "Kokomo" seem lively. "Kokomo," a completely fluky #1 smash that inexplicably became the band's biggest hit ever (shades of "I Just Called to Say I Love You"), was released the following year on STILL CRUISIN'; "Lady Liberty" has not been issued elsewhere. If you ever wonder why this was a hit, look at the man on the cover of the single (Tom Cruise) and the man who sings the "get there fast and then we'll take it slow" hook (Carl Wilson). (C)
Still Cruisin' (Capitol 1989)
This awful midtempo track is a dinosaur-like attempt at "rocking out" and reminding unsuspecting patrons of the Beach Boys' past success in the wake of the unexpected hit "Kokomo," which reappears (typical capitalist, er, Capitolist, stunt) as the b-side here. Both songs released on STILL CRUISIN' soon afterward. (D-)
Somewhere Near Japan (Capitol 1989)
With the failure of the track "Still Cruisin'" in early 1989, this was created as the true "followup" to the #1 hit "Kokomo," featuring mostly the same writing team. However, it's a marginally better song with an appealing contemporary sound and basically none of the clichéd subjects, but it sounds far more like the Mamas and the Papas in the space age than any kind of Beach Boys effort. The b-side, "Problem Child," brings things closer to home but, go figure, is a much more laborous listen. "Somewhere Near Japan" is on the album STILL CRUISIN'; "Problem Child" is unique to this release. (C+)
Crocodile Rock (Capitol 1990)
The Beach Boys were dropped from Capitol after Brian Wilson left the band in 1990. The end seemed imminent, in the studio at least, until this bizarre release appeared. The first Beach Boys single never issued on vinyl, it is a remarkably unnecessary cover of Elton John's "Crocodile Rock" from a tribute album that incidentally happened to be on Capitol. It was released as a single supposedly to fulfill a contract obligation. The b-side is a curious Spanish version of "Kokomo" that is substantially better than the original track. Neither track is on an album or in print. (C+)
Forever (Brother 1992)
The first-ever independent release from Brother Entertainment, this single, released only on compact disc, marked a new low for the Beach Boys. To cash in on their association with John Stamos of FULL HOUSE fame, they released this recording of his rendition with the band of Dennis Wilson's beloved "Forever," veritably ruining a classic with starry eyes for a corny situation comedy. The misery runs right down to the cover, a sexed-up shot of a nearly-shirtless Stamos. This is frankly Michael Bolton territory mined by one of rock's former guiding lights. For years afterward, a generation whose youth was tinged with the omnipresence of shows like FULL HOUSE could conjure up laughter with merely two lines from this song that in its original form was one of the most wonderful love songs written in its era. If the band ever hoped to again be taken seriously, this was the moment when they botched their last chance. Fans hoped the impending release of the accompanying album, SUMMER IN PARADISE, would bode more positively for the future. The b-side, the album's title track (in a live version), would seem to suggest otherwise; for most of us, the grim reality of the dream being over here begins to sink in. (F)
Hot Fun in the Summertime (Brother 1993)
Brother's 1993 release in Europe of SUMMER IN PARADISE was anticipated by this CD single, the first such unit by the Beach Boys to contain three tracks. It's truly a strange hybrid. The A-side is the awful Sly & the Family Stone cover from the album; it is accompanied by "Tears in the Morning," the big 1970 British hit written by Bruce Johnston, and, mysteriously enough, "Good Vibrations," even though no licensing credit to Capitol is visible on the packaging, which, by the way, is terrible. One classic and a commercial favorite can't make up for the sins of "Hot Fun in the Summertime," which is the same mix as SUMMER IN PARADISE. ("Tears in the Morning" and "Good Vibrations" also use their regular album mixes, from SUNFLOWER and SMILEY SMILE respectively.) (F)
Under the Boardwalk (Brother 1994)
It was over a year before Brother could put together the funding needed to release the third single from SUMMER IN PARADISE. January 1994 brought the Beach Boys' half-assed, incredibly boring cover of the Drifters' "Under the Boardwalk." The b-side, Mike Love's rap attempt "Summer of Love," is even worse and truly embarrassing. Neither track is different from the album mix. (F)
Summer of Love (Brother 1995)
This Brother CD single released in conjunction with the band's appearance on BAYWATCH is a mere reversal of the "Under the Boardwalk" disc. "Summer of Love" remains quite possibly the worst Beach Boys song ever released (though "Happy Endings" gives it a good run for its money, and I think I hate the "Forever" remake more than both), and the "Under the Boardwalk" cover that rounds out the disc is hardly better. Some early CDs with this cover are actually the "Under the Boardwalk" single. Both songs are on SUMMER IN PARADISE. (F)