The roller coaster on boardwalk of Kokomo.

I grew up listing to The Beach Boys on the radio, hearing fragments of their massive discography  sandwiched in between Billy Joel and Fleetwood Mac and Cat Stevens. The radio constructed a disjointed narrative that evoked snapshots of California beaches, surfing, young romance, endless summers, and cheesy soft rock. I could see the band harmonizing around a bonfire, without a worry in the world.

I'm fascinated by the stark contrast between The Beach Boys' carefree sound and their volatile history. Brian Wilson's life story is compelling enough that I'm tempted to read his autobiography. Dennis Wilson died before he could release an autobiography: in 1983 he drowned, attempting to recover the items he threw off his boat in an intoxicated fit. I had no idea growing up that Brian Wilson rarely toured with the band and that he had serious personal problems that affected his creative output. I had no idea that Dennis Wilson released a pretty awesome solo album “Pacific Ocean Blue” and that he had died when The Beach Boys revelled in commercial success with their 1988 #1 hit “Kokomo.” I wonder what Dennis would have thought about “Kokomo.” When asked about the M.I.U. Album, which seems to be the beginning of the Beach Boys' creative end, Dennis said that he didn't “believe in that album" and that it was "an embarrassment to [his] life. It should self destruct... I hope that the karma will fuck up Mike Love’s meditation forever."

A lot of critics agree that The Beach Boys' best work was created when they were not that popular. They were the band that could have been even greater. For a time in the mid-to-late 60s, I've heard that The Beach Boys were as critically and commercially popular as The Beatles. I can only imagine how ground-breaking Pet Sounds was: it was the album that paved the way for the British Invasion's psychedelia. Post-Pet Sounds, The Beach Boys could not reach the same level of commercial success, prestige, and cool as their British counterparts. Oddly enough, The Beach Boys made a comeback in the mid-70s, riding the wave of Endless Summer, a pre-Pet Sounds compilation of hits, and in 1974 they were named the Rolling Stone's “Band of the Year.” It seems like a return to 10+-year-old sounds in the post-psychedelic-rock era ignited this bizarre nostalgia for sunny songs. The Beach Boys then started pushing music that resembled bad soft rock; it made them a lot of money, though. 

It's a weird experience revisiting The Beach Boys' music and correlating it with their history. I'm not sure I would have liked growing up in the 60s listening to and loving their albums like Pet Sounds, Smiley Smile, and Wild Honey. I imagine I would have experienced some sort of profound disappointment listening to their later albums. Their bad music, though, does not create a vacuum; it fills an important musical space. All music tells a story. Some music might not tell the story I want to hear. Should I ignore the bad music, the stories I don't want to hear, like it never exist? No. I try not to dwell on them; and when I do dwell on them, I try to see how they fit into the bigger narrative. It turns out that The Beach Boys have a very compelling narrative with a lot of sad stories.