Sonny Down Snuff I'm Alright

Unlike the mainstream press, I will not use clichéd comments about how “Brian Wilson Finally Smiles”. They’re stupid jokes and I wish everyone would stop using them. I mean, seriously, how uninventive are these people?

So, we all know the legend of Smile. Those who don’t can do a quick search of the Internet to find the full story, however true it may be.

I admit that impatience had gotten the best of me and I had heard Smile in its entirety before it was released. I was well prepared for the structure, the changes, the new voices, etc. However, I was not prepared for the sheer sonic pleasure I would derive out of that first vocal chord from “Our Prayer”. It sounded good in the car, but on the home stereo it was simply engulfing.

The album is set up in three movements (America, Childhood, and the Elements) and, as the album is ordered, contains a rather cohesive narrative. Van Dyke Parks’ lyrics, once considered obtuse, actually work well. Perhaps they are a little more elusive in their meaning than a Britney Spears song, but their intent is to paint a picture, not tell you the meaning of life. “Surf’s Up”, which is ostensibly about the loss of childhood, paints a picture of an abandoned theater, once great architecture crumbling and a man standing on the shore waving goodbye to his former self. It’s a heartbreakingly beautiful image, as are the columnated ruins domino, hung velvet and the muted trumpeter swan. Difficult? Perhaps, but the pleasure in Smile is not its analysis but in letting go and letting the music wash over you.

The music. Much has been written about this music for 37 years. The question remains “is the music daring, ground-breaking, and representative of Brian’s peak?” The answer is yes.

Smile is so densely layered with melody, counter-melody, flourish, arpeggios, harmonies and recurring musical themes that intense listening is a rewarding pleasure. The second listen reveals a bass harmonica croaking in after the verse in a way you didn’t notice, “Our Prayer” has a soaring falsetto that wasn’t apparent on your third listen and listen to how elegantly those strings enter on the bridge . . . I never noticed that. And the transition between “Wonderful” and “Song for Children” is simply gorgeous.

This is complex, challenging, funny, dynamic music. It’s loud, gentle, bombastic and lilting all at once. It’s rich and dense with so much to discover. Brian’s band, which has been woefully underutilized in his past studio efforts, is brilliant in their playing. They avoid the traps of tribute band while managing to move beyond a surrogate band. The passion for this music and belief in what this should be is clear.

The sequence of songs makes sense, though in my own amateur archival attempts I never came close. Yes, “Good Vibrations” is included here. But I have never considered it as a cohesive part of Smile, outside of the recording techniques. Perhaps it could be considered a bridge, of sorts. Here it closes out the album. However it seems Brian is setting it apart, almost as a coda. In the final seconds of “Blue Hawaii”, the song that precedes “Good Vibrations” is a refrain of the opening track, “Our Prayer”. Thematically, I feel as though it ends the three movement piece there, with “Good Vibrations” acting as an epilogue.

No matter. What I think is inconsequential.

Two issues must be addressed:

1. Is this better without the Beach Boys? The answer is yes and no. The Beach Boys wouldn’t, and couldn’t, have completed this album. Therefore it is a moot point. Unsupportive for decades, and deceased now. There is no longer a band called The Beach Boys, only a corporate entity that markets a band under that name licensed by a former member.

But it brings up a wholly different issue. Smile, when you listen to it, is not your typical rock album. This is a musical suite. A work that transcends its performers. It tells a story, it begs for performance and musical experience. Only since the advent of recording technology and the emergence of performers who can write have we begun to cling to the sacred nature of the original artist. Music is meant to be performed, consumed, and experienced. It should be interpreted, reinterpreted and given new life and passion as filtered through new performers. We don’t dismiss a performance of “Caprice No. 1 in E/E-dur/mi majeur” because it isn’t the long dead Paganini’s performance. Music should be alive and intertwined within our lives long after those who created it are gone.

2. If this had been released in 1967 would it have been hailed as genius? Hell if I know. Hell if anyone knows. This release, as it stands, is brilliant. The music that Brian wrote is brilliant, entertaining and challenging. It’s expertly performed. And, yes, even 37 years later, it represents a different paradigm for popular music.

But would it have been influential almost four decades ago? Like how many licks it takes to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Roll pop, the world may never know.

And anyone who can opine on such an intangible, short of being able to alter history, is just making it all up and trying to puff up some sort of sense of self-worth.

Hell, we’re all brilliant in retrospect.

SMiLE

It has arrived. It is currently on my stereo, playing loudly. Sonically, the sucker sounds great. Very nuanced.

Yummy.

More later after all my appointments.

Settle Down Dad

Well, it was quite a week last week. Young Gertrude managed to have some sort of virus that expelled just about every vile bodily fluid possible. Add to that a high fever that seemed to cause her to hallucinate (hard to tell, she’s always kind of odd . . . in a good way) and you have what we parents call a “week with little sleep.”

After Gert recovered physically it took her a few days to settle down emotionally. So that meant that she and I annoyed the crap out of each other all weekend. She decided that it was time to not listen to dad until the fourth time he said something and dad decided that he’d get irritated on the third try. So there were lots of two-year-old induced moments of comic hijinks.

At one point when I was asking her to clean up her toys for the thousandth time, she looked at me and said, I kid you not, “Settle down dad.” Before I could recover from being agog that my toddler daughter told me to settle down, she told her mother to “pick on someone your own size.”

Despite the clashes, we had a pretty good weekend. We went to some little pioneer festival at a local park, where the girls were able to try out such cosmopolitan pastimes as rope-winding and candle dipping. They also went on a pony ride, which made Gert squeal with such delight that the pony’s head exploded.

Later, on the car ride home, the girls decided to go at it over a bag of kettle corn. After suggesting that we’re not above selling them to gypsies for a paltry sum, they settled down and we had a nice evening.

This morning in the car Gert made me listen to the Beach Boys’ “Our Prayer” for twenty minutes straight. I felt I was in the middle of a Gregorian Monk reunion.

Tomorrow I’m buying Matilda the last CD she’ll ever get from me that isn’t a gift. What I mean is, after tomorrow, I’ll no longer bankroll her music purchases. I was in fourth grade when I began to chart my own musical identity (Def Leopard and Journey’s Frontiers). When I grab SMiLE tomorrow I’m also picking up a copy of Hilary Duff’s new CD, which Matilda seems to be completely oblivious about. Hilary is her favorite singer. She even saw her concert this summer. Her last disc was played so often that were it on vinyl it would have been worn out.

While I would have loved to see her grooving to Pet Sounds, but I’m happy that she has interests of her own. She’s always known that if she asked me to buy her a CD I wouldn’t hesitate. And, surprisingly, she never tried to abuse that privilege.

So tomorrow I’ll surprise her with a new CD and explain to her the significance of the moment. How she’ll be charting her own musical destiny, free to explore as she chooses. And if she’s in complete control of her purchases (and trust me, she has more cash flow than I do . . . the kid never spends a dime) then those purchases will mean much more to her. It did to me as a kid.

So for me it will be a momentous occasion. A moment to say, “You are now in control. Explore! Discover!” It’s her time to find what excites her, what touches her. For her the moment will probably a slightly irritating few minutes where she’ll have to listen to me talk.

Busy Doin' Nothing

I'm way behind due to Gert's sickness last week. So no inane banter from me. Instead I'll make you listen to music.

Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks - (Do Not Feed The) Oyster

Radio 4 - How the Stars Got Crossed

Enjoy. Will write my official review of Smile tomorrow, after hearing it in full fidelity. And will let you know what my straight-laced neighbors think when I ask them the name of their favorite vega-table.

A Monkey Could Do It

Diebold has been slammed repeatedly for the terrible security on their voting machines. But despite the fact that they are so open to fraud that Richard Daley would be drooling, Diebold is being pig-headed and virtually ignoring their critics.

Even when a monkey hacked their system. Yes, a monkey. Well, technically an ape. But, still, if Cheetah can alter the voting records, what's to stop a corrupt human being?

Still, you have to wonder . . . if a monkey did alter voter records, what would they be in favor of?

Bicycle Rider Just See What You've Done

First real SMiLE review up here. It garnered five stars from Rolling Stone which, in its day, would have really been worth something. Now? Not so much. Still, I'm happy to see the work that went into the album, which is apparent upon first listen, is getting its due.

Also, what are Elvis Costello's ten best tracks? Entertainment Weekly says these are. Mostly obvious, some daring.

I'll try and catch you up with this week's events later. It was filled with snot, vomit and nerves. It was great.

The Delivery Man

I've been listening all day. And I've decided that not only is Lucinda Williams drunker than a Russian physicist after completing a nice round with the cyclotron, but she totally ruins the song.

The otherwise decent "There's a Story in Your Voice" is completely mashed when this warbling, psychotic voice tears the melody to pieces and interprets it in the same way your drunken aunt interprets "Tiny Bubbles" at your parents cocktail party.

God love Lucinda, but get the girl some treatment. And if she doesn't drink (she sure seemed drunk when I saw her last year) then someone needs to get her some therapy.

Better SMiLE Link

Can be found here. No spaces, no flash, only crappy Active X controls in the banner that piss me off.

This one flows together the way the album should. Still can't wait for the full sonic experience next week. And, no, I don't feel I'm ruining it by listening to it in its entirety a week prior. Hell, I knew most of the lyrics and the melodies for years before Brian decided to finish it. The only real difference here is I can pick out Darian's voice.

Thanks to Stereogum for the link.

Elvis Costello on Anti-Piracy

Looks like the venerable Mr. Costello doesn't like the FBI talking about what you can do with his discs once you buy them. Check out the statement above the warning on the back cover for his latest disc (Click to enlarge):

Miscellany

What’s up?

Well, SMiLE is being streamed in its entirety at the Smile the Album website. Sounds good. Not too crazy about Vega-Tables, but it’s still better than the Smiley Smile version. Though, admittedly, inferior to the original boots that are available on the black market. I kinda like “On a Holiday,” which has wonderfully typical Van Dyke Parks lyrics and think “Blue Hawaii” may be my favorite on the disc (I always loved “I Love to Say Da Da” the Smile tracking session on which this song is built). Even the new version of “Wind Chimes” isn’t bad. And “Fire” is damn cool, actually. Scary even. Though when I hear it I wish I had a little plastic fireman’s helmet like Brian’s. I’m looking forward to hearing this sucker in high quality. Only one more week.

Got the new Elvis Costello. Jury still out. There are some songs that rock, which I was happy to hear. It has a nice sound, raw and natural, which is good. I just don’t know how good it is yet. Typical for an Elvis disc. However, Lucinda Williams sticks out like a sore thumb. She sounds like a drunken barfly.

Finally, Miss Gertrude is sick. Again. Poor kid. She’s running a high fever and puked once (which is what she usually does when she’s sick, whether or not it’s the stomach flu). Last night she was sleeping, all feverish and sad, and we heard a sound from her room.

“What was that?”

“A cough, I think.”

“A cough? Or was it a vomicough?”

You know the vomicough. A kid starts coughing, clearing her throat, and then splays the contents of her stomach on the wall in a way that would make Linda Blair scream in fear.

Her fever hasn’t been alarmingly high. But it’s been high enough to have some really weird conversations with her. I mean weirder than normal. For example, she explained to me the reason why she couldn’t eat last night (before it was apparent that she didn’t feel well) was that the black monster with black feet, black legs, black hair and black ears was there. Then she told me a story about how she and Meredith went to the zoo and they held hands on the train so they wouldn’t be scared. She also pointed out that it is very important that when we go to the zoo with Meredith that we do NOT see the lions, because they are both afraid of lions.

I assume she’s talking about MC Pudding (not to be confused with MC Lyte, Hammer or any other MC), but we’ve never gone to the zoo with them.

So she’s home. And so is mom. Mom’s maternals kicked in, despite the fact that I insisted that I could cancel my meeting today and take care of the kid. But to no avail. Her ovaries started a harmonic hum that clouds her brain and makes her need to care for children. It’s the only way to stop the ovaries from humming. I understand that.

Still, she could have worked. I can cuddle a sick baby with the best of them. In fact, it’s what I’d rather be doing.

Especially now that she’s done horking up stuff.

(UPDATE: Elvis is growing on me. I’m digging “Button My Lip” quite a bit right now.)

And, I'd like to wish my wife a belated public happy fifth anniversary last Saturday. We celebrated a month ago, so don't feel sorry for us when we tell you we spent the day cleaning with the kids. It was very romantic. Besides, that's what we do. We like our family. We're goofy that way. But, I'd like to thank her for the best five years of my life. Quite amazing, really.

This Year's Primate

New Elvis song (and video . . . dig the imitation of the This Year's Model cover at the beginning). Disc(s) due Tuesday.

This song has grown on me, to be honest. And, I've heard from both the loyal and the pessimistic that The Delivery Man is his rawest, most enjoyable work in years. Of course, I'm a man who named his website after a song from one of Elvis' lest lauded works (though, oddly, one of my favorites).

So Elvis will hold me over until SMiLE is released the following week. And then, live-wise, it's Bobby Bare at Off Broadway on the 29th and Adam Marsland, with the incomparable Evie Sands on guitar, on the 1st. Adam will appreciate your patronage. Check out his site for an MP3 of "Other Than Me". Well worth a few megabytes for the download. Groovy organ too. His new disc includes appearances by Darian Sahanaja and Probyn Gregory of the Wondermints and Brian Wilson's band, Stew and Heidi from, well, Stew, Robbie Rist of Cockeyed Ghost and too many other bands to count and a few other notables. Should be a good listen when it drops.

Ten Years Gone

WARNING: If you are offended by strong language, please don’t read this. There will be several f-bombs dropped throughout while quoting a few of the characters I encountered during the living of this story.

Last night I saw Wilco at the Fabulous Fox Theater in St. Louis. Our seats were pretty good. Further to the left than I would have preferred sonically, but we were damn close to the stage. Close enough to see Jeff Tweedy twitch in time to the music, but not so close that we could inspect his nose hair.

After having some drinks with family and friends, we arrived at the theater a little later than I had hoped and missed most of the Calexico. Though we arrived late we were able to hear their amazing version of Love’s “Alone Again Or”.

Behind us were a few generic college boys, whom I will call “Generic College Boy 1” and “Generic College Boy 2”. In the middle of Calexico’s set, particularly during “Alone Again Or”, Generic College Boy 1 commented, “This music is really gay.” As if the statement weren’t enough, Generic College Boy 2 yelled it out.

Wilco hit the stage in a cloud of reverb and atonal noise. It was great. They played the majority of their new album, a favorite from the Australian EP and even dusted off one of their Guthrie tunes. Not a single song from Summerteeth [CORRECTION: I forgot about "Shot in the Arm", so the previous statement was incorrect.] was played, a bare minimum from Being There and, most surprisingly, one Uncle Tupelo tune and “Casino Queen”, which I still don’t like.

Here’s where I realized I was ten years gone. Half way through the concert my knees started to hurt from standing. My left knee, due to an old injury, seemed to be showing the signs of arthritis. And, worse, my ears started to hurt from our proximity to the monitors. Once I could have stuck my head inside the reverb tank of Eddie Van Halen’s Marshall stack. Now I was wondering how I was going to be able to conduct a conference call the next day with raging tinnitus.

About the Generic College boys. I should note that they were not the only ones in the audience. The place was crawling with them. They all wore their uniform, shorts, white t-shirt, ball cap and flip flops. Each sported the same haircut and none seemed to have the personal sense of self to realize they were in a public place. Off to our right was an androgynous man/woman who apparently took enough Ecstasy to make her not only love everyone, but to spur Germany to reunify for a second time.

All through the concert, GCB 1 and 2 kept pleading to hear “Heavy Metal Drummer.” They begged, they pleaded, they called upon a higher power, and they discussed loudly how it was their supreme wish that Wilco play “Heavy Metal Drummer”. From what I understand, if Wilco played “Heavy Metal Drummer” they would not only die happy, but several species that have been extinct for millennia would miraculously come back to life.

A sample conversation:GCB 1: I hope they play “Heavy Metal Drummer”.
GCB 2: Me too. That would totally rock.
GCB 1: Totally.

As we approached the final song of the first set, the GCBs desires grew to a fever pitch. All of a sudden “Heavy Metal Drummer” became not only their deepest desire and primary focus, but it became their sole purpose for life.

As a song would wind down and the band would prepare for the next song, the GCBs would start to freak out.

GCB 1: Oh my God. He’s getting an electric guitar. A fucking electric guitar.
GCB 2: Holy fuck. This is fucking it. They’re going to play “Heavy Metal Drummer”.
GCB 1: Let’s yell out the title in case they forgot about it.
GCB 2: Good idea. Let me adjust the toe strap in my flip flop first. Okay.
GCB 1 & 2: “Heavy Metal Drummer”! “Heavy Metal Drummer”!
GCB 1: Wait. What song is that? Is it “Heavy Metal Drummer”?
GCB 2: Dude. No. It’s fucking “Spiders”. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

They were so worked up that they could no longer speak without saying the word “fuck”.

Then the band left the stage. Anyone who has been to a concert knows the routine. Band leaves, you cheer, band comes back. Better still, due to where we were sitting, we could see the band standing off stage waiting and chatting before coming back. The GCBs were oblivious to this fact.

GCB 1: Dude. Are they done?GCB 2: I guess so.
GCB 1: They didn’t fucking play “Heavy Metal Drummer”.
GCB 2: How could they fucking forget?
GCB 1: Holy fuck. Holy fuck! They’re coming back! They’re going to play more songs!
GCB 2: Fucking awesome.

Wilco’s encores were the highlight of the night. They drug out some of their older work, and they trotted out the poppier side of Wilco, where the heavier side was playing for the entire first set. But, there was no “Heavy Metal Drummer”. They did not play the song at all. The GCBs were so wrapped up in their “Heavy Metal Drummer” hysteria, that they did not hear the highlight of the evening, for me at least, a cover of the obscure Bill Faye song “Be Not So Fearful.” I was so excited by this, as a matter of fact, that when Tweedy announced it, I whooped. I was the only one in the theater to do so. A fact that did not go unnoticed by my companions and they teased me relentlessly.

Having seen some previous set lists, when the opening chords of “The Lonely 1” started to play, I knew the evening was over. Alas, the GCBs were in chaos.

GCB 1: Dude. What song is this?
GCB 2: I don’t know. It’s not fucking “Heavy Metal Drummer”.
GCB 1: It’s fucking not.
GCB 2: I haven’t heard this song before. What is it?

I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned around and had to inform them. It’s “The Lonely 1”, I told them. They hadn’t heard of it. I told them it was on Being There. They hadn’t heard of it. I told them the previous song was “New Madrid” and was originally done by Uncle Tupelo. They hadn’t heard of them.

By the time the lights came up, the GCBs were gone. They were probably in their car tearfully listening to “Heavy Metal Drummer”, thinking of what could have been.

101 Reasons I Won't Buy the Star Wars DVDs

First, Han shoots first, damn it.

Second, Mr. Lucas, you fat, bearded bastard . . . I want the original cuts. I don't care if you don't like them. I don't care if they don't match your original vision. So what if you couldn't do it the way you wanted? It's not like the Beatles redo their classic albums.

Wait. Check that.

But, my point is, those original versions are what built your bank account. Not the Special Editions. The originals, with bad matte shots and Han shooting first, you arrogant prick.

Star Wars represented my childhood. I spent hours pretending to be Han Solo not because of the killer special effects. I did it because the stories and characters, for reasons that are beyond me now, connected with me. They meant something to me. And the changes you've made to all three movies didn't.

I mean, seriously, what's with the ego? You had a few hit movies, one artistic success and a bunch of crap ever since. You can't direct and you write for shit. So stop it and give me what I want. The original cuts.

It's not like we can even make up our minds about it. You've shelved the originals. You've taken them away from those of us who have lined your pockets with gold and built your ego into a giant albatross that we fans have to wear round our necks. An albatross roughly the size of you.

So, therefore, Mr. Lucas, I won't buy your movies. Nor will I rent them. It's too bad, too. Because I wanted my kids to see them. But they aren't what I fell in love with. And I'm not willing to give them a second-rate version to make you happy.

Oh yeah, one more thing, Mr. Lucas the Hutt. Bite me.

Al Don't You Go and Cut Your Hair

The latest in a series of Al Gore's quest for a new image.

Al Gore. Former Vice President. All around smart guy. And, now, mid-nineteenth century poet.

I give you Al Gore:



And his spiritual other half, William Cullen Bryant:



All Al needs is some mutton chops and he's ready to go. Go Al go! Personally, I think you could have won the election with the beard a few years ago. Very U.S. Grant.

SMiLE and the Whole World . . . Ah, Forget the Pun

Warner's in the UK has put up a preview site. At this point you can hear the entire first movement. I like it. Like I wouldn't have bought it anyway.

Still, I hope Capital finds a way to release the sessions in a boxed set, a la Pet Sounds. That's really what I want to hear. Sure, I'm happy Brian finished this and I have some sort of idea what it would have sounded like, it's still not what it WAS. Only what it COULD have been. I'd like to be able to own the bits and pieces that hooked all of us.

Oh well. No one ever asks my opinion anyway. If the did, we'd already have a space elevator and rocket shoes.

I'm A Genius Too Ya Know!

Apologies to Peter Bagge (see Rock and Roll Dad).

Last summer, after listening to Good Vibrations one time too many, I went to some session material, rough edits, etc. that were released on boxed sets and the Captial Twofers over the years. I discovered this one little piece that I thought was really cool. After the groovy bass line, it had a vocal break that was just cool beyond words. I didn't understand why it was left out of the final edit of the song. In fact, I thought it was so cool that I made my own version of Good Vibrations with that cool part edited into the final mix (see about 2:13):

GaryVibe (Low bitrate because I don't want lawyers coming after me for posting one of the most successful singles of all time.)

Well, as the Dude would say, New Information has come to light.

On September 27th of this year, when Brian releases Smile I want you to pay particular attention to the new recording of Good Vibrations. I want you to remember that I, Gary O'Brien with my wife as a witness, made my version well over a year ago. And I was proud of it. With my poor skills it took me a full weekend to get it right.

So you remember that. You remember what my version sounded like when Mr. Genius Wilson releases his version. Sure, he wrote it. Sure, he recorded it. Sure he came up with it all. But it was my edit that was Super Genius!

Stop laughing. I'm fragile.

SMiLE Though You Still Have Three Weeks

This is long. If you don’t give a rat’s ass about Brian Wilson or Smile, don’t bother.

One of the greatest mysteries and points of debate in Rock music is the enigma that is Brian Wilson’s never-completed 1967 magnum opus, Smile. A fragile psychiatric profile, ego, drug and familial problems led to this albums tragic demise. Since its death, and the leaking of session tracks, half-completed tracks, and bootleggers’ wet dreams, have only aided in keeping the mystery alive.

If it had been released in 1967 would Smile have trumped Sgt. Pepper’s as the greatest rock album ever recorded? (Editorial note: I’ve never viewed Sgt. Pepper’s as the Beatles greatest achievement, only their weirdest.) To put it quite simply, the world will never know. The album was never released in 1967. It was, in fact, never completed. Lyrics were missing, tracks only half recorded and a final track listing only an uber-fan’s greatest guess.

Now, nearly 40 years later, Brian Wilson has completed Smile. I’ve heard five complete tracks and samples of the entire disc. Is it genius? Is it everything they claim? I will get to that.

My first experience with Smile came from my Good Vibrations boxed set of Beach Boys gems. Upon listening to the first two discs, charting Brian’s genius stars’ rise, you suddenly come upon Our Prayer and the pieces of Smile that were assembled by Mark Linnett. Having only read about Smile and not having experienced a single shred of it in my neophyte fan status, I was knocked over. In a good way? It’s hard to say. I was just shocked. Up until that point I had never heard music like this. Rather than a cohesive piece, each song seemed to be a thematic patchwork, with sometimes wildly contrasting pieces of music put together to make a “whole” song (quoted because they were not, in fact, completed and, therefore, not whole). Since hearing that music I have since heard much of Smile’s offspring, from a wide variety of musicians influenced by Brian’s madcap approach to music. Listen to any High Llamas album for an idealized version of Brian’s vision.

Time passed and the songs grew on me. I began to find threads, repeated melodies, snippets of lyrical moments popping up in surprising places. I began to get a sense of what Brian was trying to do and, as time went on, I became obsessed. I sought out bootlegs, assembled my own version of Smile and studied piano lines that seemed to represent melodic themes. I began to listen to the deeper aspects of the song, including how they were crafted.

In short, what once seemed like a bunch of really fucked up music began to take shape as a singular piece of work that was tragically halted in the middle of its creative explosion. The melodies were catchy and haunting. The lyrics were seemingly impenetrable and the sudden changes of style and mood intoxicating. I became a Smile addict.

And I was happy to have that, “Gee, what could have been” feeling and the need to try and convert the unwashed to the genius of the music.

What began as a project of two men in their twenties (Brian and Van Dyke Parks) has now been completed by two men in their sixties, after having walked away from the project for 37 years. 37 years, longer than I have been alive. In that time people have gone completely bonkers, become estranged and some of the key voices (in my mind THE key voice, as well) have passed away. Despite these obstacles, they have completed Smile.

One thing must be noted. Smile, in this or any form, will never be what was going to be in 1967. Without rewriting history, it is simply impossible. And maybe it is better that way. Maybe it is better that Smile collapsed beneath its own lofty goals.

There are some sad spots when approaching this new recording. The first is the mentioned estrangement and death. Carl Wilson, perhaps the finest voice in the Beach Boys, is gone. Without that voice a certain feeling of innocence and gentleness is lost. Dennis Wilson is dead. Mike Love is an ass and Al Jardine is estranged. In essence, only one man involved with the Beach Boys at the time could possibly be involved. And that is Brian. This is a fitting isolation. Now, as in the beginning, Brian is the only Beach Boy truly behind Smile 100%.

Brian has a new band. Brian has a new band that musically runs circles around the Beach Boys and, it can be argued, the Wrecking Crew. But what is gone is the harmony. Fate and genetics put together five voices that blended in a way that can only be described as goose bumpy. Have there ever been such rich, textured harmonies in Rock music before or since?

The new band is fantastic and all capable singers. But they are simply not Brian, Carl, Dennis, Mike and Al. They can imitate but can never be the Beach Boys.

Live with it. I can.

So, how does Smile 2004 rate? Having not heard it in its entirety, I can not say for sure. However, based upon what I’ve heard, it ranks. In fact, it’s quite simply fantastic.

Oh, sure, there are few production and musical notes that are a bit sour for me. The “Columnated ruins domino” line doesn’t quite work with the blended voices of Brian and Jeff Foskett. And there is a certain innocence and longing that is missing from “Surf’s Up”. But any of these complaints are minor and only scratch the surface of this album.

Why? Because the voices, guitars, production and any instruments are not the stars of Smile. In every case the music is the star. The melodies, counter melodies, bass lines, harmonies, runs and basic construction of these songs are what matters.

What I’ve heard is incredible. Excellently executed and completely fascinating. What it lacks in that magical spontaneity of 1967 it more than makes up for with love, care and sheer musical eloquence.

Forget the Beach Boys. This isn’t the Beach Boys. Smile is the culmination of Brian Wilson’s near forty-year battle with himself. And no matter how you cut it, the music on Smile is and always will be his greatest achievement. Weird and wonderful, Smile is everything it was purported to be. The only thing we will never know is whether or not it would have change music as we know it.

Or did it? Despite the fact that it was never released as planned, the myth of Smile and those tantalizing pieces of it, have informed, intrigued and influenced two generations of music’s most daring writers and performers.

The beauty of Smile 2004 is that it allows us to keep our questions about whether or not Smile 1967 would have been everything it was supposed to be. We can always wonder about it, and we can still go back to those pieces and hear what it could have sounded like. But all we can do is wonder. And that’s all we could do before. Brian hasn’t taken that away from us.

What he has given us is his current idea of what Smile was and is. In his own mind it is the best work of his career. He recently said, “Smile means the world to me. I had it inside me for almost 40 years. It's my baby.”

I can’t imagine having something like this locked inside me, and yet completely surrounding me, for forty years. What a terrible and wonderful curse.

But in the end Brian’s child-like qualities are what is most winning. “It's better than Pet Sounds,” he says, “and I did it.”

And I did it. Those are the words of a man amazed at what he was able to do. It’s the same sense of wonder I have when I look at the kids.

And he did do it. He did it anew, looking forward rather than backward. And he did it well. Of course, wait until I actually hear the whole disc. I may change my mind.

But I doubt it.

Where Have You Gone Joe DiMaggio?

So, I'll be scarce for a while. Why? Well, you see, in addition to having a freelance business, several side projects, a family, and an undeniable inability to say "no", I also help run a very busy website devoted to planning vacations to Disney World. Well . . . 1.7 million hits and 2 million page views per month, 350,000 unique visitors, 14,000 registered users and 7,500 subscribers to our newsletter. It's not a small site.

And, Disney World is in Florida. And it's hurricane season. We have a lot of people who are either trying to get to or back from Orlando while one pissed-off, bitch of a hurricane looks like it's going to hit the area. Worse, all of our people who live and work in Orlando are still cleaning up from Charley. Frances, the latest weather punk, looks like it could be one hell of a storm.

So, we're focusing on keeping people informed and trying to convince travelers to stay safe. While I'd rather be sitting here cracking jokes about Dan Fogelberg's pussiness and mocking the stuffed shirts involved in the presidential campaign. But, alas, I need to direct my attention to helping our site's users plan ahead and checking up on my friends' stock of plywood and duct tape.

Keep your fingers crossed that Frances blows back out to sea. We need all these Floridians to be able to vote so we have something funny to watch on TV in November.