23
Jan
11

The Birth of Jazz

by Travis Grant

Ken Burns’ 2001 documentary, Jazz, provides a thorough telling of jazz music’s history by exploring the genre from its fortuitous beginning in the Louisiana slave markets to present. Burns spells out the inspiration and motivation behind every period of jazz and links them together in a way that gives the viewer a broad yet comprehensive view of the genre. Although tales of musicians like Jelly Roll Morton, Bix Beiderbecke, Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Charlie Parker, and Miles Davis are each fascinating in their own right, the story of how jazz music formed by chance as a result of the slave trade, racism, war, the merging of other musical genres, and the eventual mixture of certain social classes is worth retelling.

The story of jazz began more than 200 years ago, not far from where the Mississippi spills into the Gulf of Mexico. At the start of the 19th century, New Orleans was several things that would make it crucial to the history of jazz. First, it was America’s most musical city. Citizens enjoyed New Orleans’ symphony orchestras (of which there were two) and the operas performed by each of the city’s three flourishing opera companies. Black slaves were also allowed to enjoy music. They would congregate to socialise, drum, and dance every Sunday in New Orleans’ Congo Square, which still exists in Louis Armstrong Park, in the city’s Treme neighbourhood. Most of all, everyone – black and white – enjoyed the music emanating from nearly every street corner in New Orleans. As respected jazz artist, Wynton Marsalis notes, even “the vendors […] would sing arias.”

New Orleans was also a key shipping port. The city’s proximity to the Mississippi River made it ideal, since the river was the primary waterway for ferrying goods great distances inland. Included in the goods being shipped were human chattel, bought and sold  through the Atlantic slave trade. At the peak of the trade, New Orleans had the dubious distinction of being the largest slave market in the United States.

As trade moved slaves about the Deep South, inevitable cultural integrations began occurring amongst them. Slaves imported to New Orleans from the West Indies brought with them the beat-driven music of the Caribbean. Slaves who arrived there from the Southern interior had been exposed to the Baptist faith and brought with them the spirituals and work songs that were common to the area.

Another important cultural group also existed in New Orleans at that time – Creoles of Colour. The Creoles of Colour were the light-skinned descendents of French and Spanish colonialists who kept black wives and mistresses. Despite their lineage, Creoles of Colour were of a higher social class than blacks and rarely mingled with them. In fact, it was not uncommon for the Creoles of Colour to own slaves. Unlike African slaves, many Creoles of Colour were well off, well educated, and classically trained in European music.

On January 26th, 1861, the State of Louisiana seceded from the Union. For New Orleans at least, this secession lasted just over a year. 15 months after secession, a federal fleet made its way down the Mississippi, and Confederate forces found themselves under fire from both the Union army and navy. New Orleans officially surrendered to federal forces on April 28th, 1862. This ushered in a period of relative freedom for black slaves, which in turn gave rise to a flourish of artistic creativity.

New Orleans responded to occupation differently than other cities in the Confederacy would have. Before federal occupation, New Orleans tolerated the largest population of freed slaves, and once the city surrendered, it was apparent that significant commercial interests were compatible with federal occupation. The city and other federally controlled parts of Louisiana were even designated as states within the Union and granted representation in the U.S. Congress. In other words, keeping the peace in New Orleans, although not always easy, was not as difficult as one might expect.

The period following the Civil War was known as Reconstruction. The civilian governments that had controlled the 11 seceded states were deposed and placed under the control of the U.S. Army. During this time, federal troops patrolled the South and forced integration between blacks and whites; however, this early experiment in civil rights came to an end with a secretive agreement between Southern Democrats and Northern Republicans known resentfully to many as the Corrupt Bargain but formally as the Compromise of 1877. For Southern blacks, this backroom deal ushered in a dark period of prominent Ku Klux Klan activity, lynching, indentured servitude, and strictly enforced segregation of all aspects of public life. For the most part, these realities would remain in place until the civil rights movement of the 1960s.

New Orleans was not immediately affected by the sudden collapse of Reconstruction. Although efforts to further disenfranchise former slaves were eventually successful, there was a period after Reconstruction’s collapse when life for blacks in New Orleans was preferable to other states and cities in the Deep South. As a result, waves of black men, women, and children made their way down the Mississippi in search of better lives. Keith David, the narrator of Jazz, says of this exodus, “The blues was part of their baggage.” With the arrival of so much blues in the Mississippi Delta, a key ingredient for jazz was in place.

By the late 19th century, ragtime music, which first rose to popularity in the red light district of Storyville, had taken hold of New Orleans. Ragtime was a mixture of African syncopation and the technical elements of European classical music. The defining characteristic of ragtime is a melody that dodges some beats in the meter of accompanying instruments. (Ragtime’s meter is usually 4/4, 2/4, or 3/4 if it’s a ragtime waltz). Crucial to this musical styling is a melody that either accentuates the notes that precede the beat (in anticipation of it), or a melody that lets wail the notes that follow close behind the beat, giving it a flourishing afterglow.

At the same time, the blues had better defined itself as a unique and expressive musical form, and the people of New Orleans began hearing it on a wider scale. Fundamentally less complicated than ragtime, the blues is based on three chords that are usually arranged over 12 bar sequences. These choruses allow for an infinite number of variations. The plastic nature of the blues made vocal accompaniment relatively easy, especially the spiritual verses transposed from scripture into a plaintive melody. “The blues,” says Keith David, “was the profane twin of the sacred music of the black Baptist Church […] one was praying to God and the other was praying to what’s human. One was saying, ‘Oh God, let me go,’ and the other was saying, ‘Mr., let me be.’”

As soon as these musical styles took hold, they began to integrate. Bugles and horns manufactured for military use were in abundance following the Civil War. Poor musicians acquired the cheap brass instruments and set about mixing the fundamentals of ragtime music and the blues.

In 1890, the Louisiana State Legislature began enacting laws that segregated public facilities on the basis of race. These laws were not only applied to the black people of Louisiana, but also to Creoles of Colour, a group who had previously moved about society as equals to their white counterparts. Outraged, the Committee of Citizens of New Orleans hired Creole of Colour Homer Plessy to challenge a particular law that segregated train cars. The plan was to seat Plessy in a first-class train car designated for whites only and have him arrested. This would ensure that Plessy got his day in court, where the Committee of Citizens of New Orleans could, by proxy, challenge segregations laws, claiming them to be unconstitutional. The committee hired a private investigator to arrest Plessy and, sure enough, he was charged and his case was heard before the United States Supreme Court. In an unanticipated decision, the Supreme Court ruled against Plessy, stating that separate but equal facilities were, in fact, constitutional. The Committee of Citizens of New Orleans’ plan had backfired, and the Creoles of Colour were suddenly barred from all aspects of white society, a turn of events that had a profoundly tragic impact on the lives of black people, but an important one on the merging genres of ragtime and blues.

Creoles of Colour who were classically trained musicians were now barred from playing with white musicians and were left with no choice but to make music with former slaves. The sudden introduction of Creoles of Colour and their musical skills to the ragtime-blues merger added an element of technical proficiency that would have an earth-shifting effect on the music and the musicians. Had Homer Plessy’s trial before the Supreme Court not gone so disastrously, the new direction towards Jazz might not have been forged.

When the strict beat of blues music is blown through a horn, it’s slower than than ragtime. As a result, the blues-ragtime merger often had spaces in between phrasings that needed to be filled; this marked a crucial turning point. To best understand how crucial this break between phrasings was, picture a band of Creole and black musicians and imagine them working out, in a single session, all of the ideas and innovations that would eventually crystallise into jazz. In the first break, the cornet player — a Creole of Colour — fills the space with a few notes. Surprised, the bassist, the drummer, and the trumpet look up at him. The truth is, the cornet player has surprised himself. But he can do better. Emboldened, he fills the next break with a creative, melodic, and emotional burst. Inspired, the other musicians begin taking turns filling the space, each time infusing the feelings in their gut into the music. Before long, the fills extend beyond the breaks, and the musicians are taking turns exchanging complex and sophisticated lines of music, each of which remains true to the spirit of the original piece. They are conversing with one another in the language of music – honest, uncensored, and brilliant. In this way, Jazz music was born.

Albums listened to while writing this: Saxophone Colossus, by Sonny Rollins; Jazz: Red Hot & Cool, by Dave Brubeck; Hi-Fi Ellington Uptown, by Duke Ellington; The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady, by Charles Mingus; Bird and Miles, by Charlie Parker and Miles Davis; Introduction to Jazz by the Rev. A. L. Kershaw – a collection of the Rev.’s favourite compositions, from 1926-1944.

16
Sep
10

16 Albums You Need To Hear Before You Die!

By Travis Grant

1. The Beach Boys – Surfer Girl

This record was released in the summer of 1963, and it’s one of the first examples of Brian Wilson taking full production credit for a Beach Boys album. The harmonies on this record are outstanding, which should help draw your attention away from the fromage-laden lyrics.

2. Bob Dylan – Highway 61 Revisited.

Dylan goes electric! I especially love the guitar riff in “Tombstone Blues” at 4:37, but there are many other moments to love on this record.

3. Dennis Wilson – Pacific Ocean Blue

Released in 1977, this is by far the best solo record put out by a Beach Boy. And who could have guessed it would come from the drummer, Dennis Wilson? Pacific Ocean Blue is intensely personal, tasteful, and beautifully arranged. This is a lost classic, one that definitely deserves a wider appreciation and more consideration. Brian Wilson was said to have been a great admirer of this album, but in an interview with Pitchfork, he denied knowing that Denis had even released a solo album. I’m not sure if this should be attributed to Brian’s ego, his schizophrenia, or if it’s his way of trying to forget the devastating circumstances of Dennis’ drowning death, in 1983, which has been suggested by a variety of sources close to Wilson.

4. Elvis Presley – For LP Fans Only!

I found this beauty at the Goodwill, moments after one of the staff members unloaded someone’s old collection onto the shelves. Released in 1959, this is an album of rockabilly standards from the dying days of rockabilly, including “That’s all Right,” “Lawdy, Miss Clawdy,” and “Shake, Rattle and Roll.”

5. Hank Williams as Luke the Drifter – Beyond the Sunset

Hank Williams was famous for his country pop standards, but these songs don’t properly attest to the kind of writer and artist that he truly was. Williams was possessed of an incredible gift for making profound observations that cut right to the heart of any person who cares half a lick for the human condition. But Hank was fearful that his story telling — which was delivered in spoken-word verses and sung choruses, with his band of Driftin’ Cowboys backing him — would alienate fans of his pop tunes. So he created an alter ego: Luke the Drifter. Beyond the Sunset was recorded between 1950 and 1952 and was released the year Hank Williams was found dead in his limousine at the tender age of 29.

6. Harry Nilsson – Son of Schmilsson

Harry Nilsson had a four octave voice. In other words, dude could sing. And on this record, he does. Son of Schmilsson is but one of the great records put out by Harry Nilsson over his relatively short career. By the time this record was released, Nilsson had become an infamous drinking buddy of John Lennon, and the two lived together while Lennon was on a split from Yoko Ono. Enabling each other’s alcoholism, the pair were notorious for heckling entertainers in Los Angeles night clubs and they were kicked out of more than one, usually in a liquor-soaked haze. If any of you like this record, you should also check out Nilsson Schmilsson.

7. Mahalia Jackson – In the Upper Room

Mahalia Jackson is one of the finest gospel singers in American music history. Her style was a confluence of jazz, blues, and rock & roll. Although many a record executive tried to convince Mahalia to release a rock & roll record, she always refused, politely telling them that her music was a gift from God and she would stay devoted to him, through song, for the rest of her life.

8. Musique Simili – Aromas

Musique Simili hail from the mountains of Switzerland and they speak a strange Slavic Dialect. Oh, and they are some of the most accomplished musicians I’ve every heard. Give them a listen.

9. NWA – Straight Outta Compton

Not only is this record musically accomplished, the perspectives of teenagers living in South Central Los Angeles in the late 80s give incredible historical insight into poverty, racism, gangs, and police brutality. I time travel through this record and try my best to imagine the lived experiences that led to one of the angriest and best rap albums ever made.

10. Creedence Clearwater Revival – Bayou Country

This is CCR’s most soulful offering. John Fogerty must have sold his soul at the cross roads moments before recording songs like “Penthouse Pauper” and “Keep on Chooglin,” they’re that authentic. Also, the cover of Little Richard’s “Good Golly Miss Molly” is the best I’ve heard.

11. Neil Young & Crazy Horse – Everybody Knows this is Nowhere

I often hear people say that Neil Young is a terrible guitar player, which isn’t true. In a bold act of defiance against the jammers and the noodlers of the heavily blues-influenced 60s and 70s, Neil simply chose to play the notes that others ignored. This wilful act of dissonance led to one of the greatest records ever made, and many more after it.

12. Paul McCartney – McCartney

I’m pretty sure most of the tracks on this record were either worked on during or inspired by Paul’s time in the Beatles. Start to finish, this is a solid record. Oh, and the last track has an extended drum solo, which is very un-Paul, don’t you think?

13. Television – Marquee Moon

Richard Hell and Tom Verlaine formed Television in 1973. Marquee Moon unleashed a new sound on New York City, one that is often credited as the actual beginning of punk and new wave. Give it a listen and decide for yourself!

14. The Sonics – Here are the Sonics!!

Speaking of punk influence, the Sonics have been cited by dozens of original New York City punk bands as a key influence. Released in 1966, Here are the Sonics is a collection of rock standards, like “Walking the Dog” and “Roll Over Beethoven,” and Ramones- and Alice Cooper-like originals (“Psycho, “The Witch,” and “Strychnine”); but they are grossly underproduced and the rawness in the vocals is something to be admired. Despite the crunchy sound on this record, the musicianship is outstanding.

15. The Stooges – The Stooges

During the Summer of Love, when your parents were talking about peace and tie dye, the Stooges were busy wearing tight leather pants and causing havoc. Their eponymous album is a collection of proto-punk and metal songs. Iggy Pop for Prez!!!

16. Willie Nile – Willie Nile

The New York Times rock critic, Robert Palmer, said of Nile, “”Every once in awhile the times seems to produce an artist who is at once an iconoclast and near-perfect expression of contemporary currents. He is one of the best singer-songwriters to emerge from the New York scene in a long time.” Nile was immediately compared to Buddy Holly and Bob Dylan, and he was even called “a one-man Clash.” This self-titled record was released in 1980, to much critical acclaim.

01
Jul
10

Travis’ Weekly Top 5

The following are my favourite 5 songs from the past week. Ok, so it’s only Wednesday – we’re only halfway through the week. But there’s a long weekend a-coming, and I won’t get a chance to post until next Tuesday. Besides, I’m pretty sure these songs will be on a steady rotation for the rest of the week. Enjoy!
1. “There’s no Room in My Heart for the Blues” – Hank Williams (From the album The Immortal Hank Williams; MGM 1958)
2. “Andy’s Chest” – Lou Reed (From the album Transformer; RCA 1972)
3. “Ballrooms of Mars” – T.Rex (From the Album The Slider; Reprise 1972)
4. “Keep A-Knockin'” – Little Richard (From the Album Little Richard; Specialty 1958)
5. “T.V.” – The Flying Lizards (From the Album The Flying Lizards; Virgin 1979)
27
Jun
10

Skyscraper National Park: Reunited

By Fraser Hayes

Some music just sounds better on vinyl.

I don’t know if this statement is contentious. And if it is, it shouldn’t be. This is particularly true with older music, but I believe there are many artists that are recording today who would truly benefit from a larger listenership on vinyl.

I have been a Hayden fan for many years. He has recorded a number of interesting albums that have not received much interest in the mainstream (I don’t know how often ‘interesting’ albums make it into the mainstream). The first time I heard ‘Skyscraper National Park’ was the first day in a long relationship with this album. Exploring a range of emotion, this album has found a prominent place in my heart through a roller coaster of life journeys and realizations.

I recently made my way to a record shop in Edmonton with $20 in my pocket and subtle anticipation. It is a different kind of excitement than going to a garage sale or to the Goodwill. Searching for used records is a exercise in archaeology, excavating and throwing aside less valuable rocks and minerals, in search of your respective ‘holy grail’; flipping through endless copies of ‘Rumours’ or ‘Charlie Pride’s Greatest Hits’, hoping that the next one you see is Lou Reed’s ‘Transformer’ or a listenable copy of the ‘White Album’. When you go to a record shop, you are expecting to spend a bit more money, usually looking for albums, recorded from the 1990s onward, with a reasonable price tag. When looking for specific records, you have a number in your mind that you’re willing to pay for them and, if you do find them, what the chances that you will find them again in the near future. So this, I suppose, is more of an exercise in economics, taking into account concepts like cost vs worth, supply and demand, and food or music. When I found Hayden’s ‘Skyscraper National Park’ for under $20, it fell well within my accepted parameters.

Now as I said before, this album has been a go-to for me for a number of years, but, alas, I had never heard it on vinyl. Having had my record player stored in a shed for the last month while I have been organizing summer work, I hauled it out and set it up in a less-full, more comfortable shed next to it. Wading through cobwebs and the spring cottonwood fluff in the air, I finally got my speakers wired and positioned; Hayden seemed to be the most appropriate pick. I dropped the needle and was instantly taken by his sound in a way that I have not felt since the first time I heard it almost ten years ago. I thought that this feeling would never be replicated again, which is always a sad thing to think when remembering some of the albums that have literally changed my life and will never be new again, only rediscovered. The first song ‘Street Car’ has always felt like an open door to me; it has a simplicity and melancholy that is instantly welcoming, inviting me to wallow in feeling. The first noticeable difference in this vinyl copy was the mix itself, digital music tends to ‘normalize.’ It’s not that digital music isn’t crisp or clear, it’s that it doesn’t lend itself to the idea that some tracks on a song should be quieter and that, by there very nature, they require the listener to, well, listen more closely. These are the sounds that you have to concentrate to hear and are therefore inherently more poignant. This seems to be much better represented in an analog format. I think this is especially important for artists like Hayden: songs recorded in a more organic way, like the raw buzzy guitar tracks, the sound of a guitar being set down, the murmur of the crowd on a live recording, or a quick back-and-forth between band members. Some may see this as a flaw, thinking it sounds unfinished and amateur. For me, these subtleties draw me closer to it, emotionally. You know what I mean:  ‘I got blisters on my fingers’, ‘cookie’, “see if you can spot this one”: I store these little things, somewhere in my brain, then, when I hear the album again, it reminds me that we have history, that we’re old friends. So for this reason, having a beautifully presented, well-priced record will truly improve my quality of life. It will find it’s way to my turntable platter in this old dusty shed more than most of my records. Maybe as often as the CD use to make it’s way to a hot breath and rub on my shirt in my first old truck many years ago. We are reunited.

27
Jun
10

The Beach Boys: A Personal Discovery

By Travis Grant

My musical tastes began assembling early in life. As a child, I explored my parents’ record collection and gained exposure to many genres and artists. But it wasn’t until my teenage years that I remember crossing the Beach Boys’ path and being underwhelmed. At that age, my mind was no longer the developmental sponge it had been in early childhood. In order for a band’s music to root itself in me, it had to deliver a walloping blow in a memorable setting. The assurances of those who had lived through the height of the Beach Boys’ fame couldn’t convince me of the band’s greatness. I needed a better segue, a push to actually listen and eventually come around to an appreciation.

I had heard all of the Beach Boys’ popular songs in lamentable contexts. Songs like “Surfin’ USA,” “Surfin’ Safari,” and “Help Me Rhonda” were played at the weddings of relatives, somewhere between the “Grease Medley” and “Billie Jean.” This was precisely the time when my bored, teenage self was looking to slip behind the community hall for a bootlegged beer.

In the early part of this century, I rarely ventured into music’s archives. New music was too exciting: Radiohead was determining the shape of things to come with Kid A; Beck’s Sea Change was a stained-glass window into personal heart ache; Hayden picked up the torch of Neil Young’s early sound and released the beautiful record, Skyscraper National Park; and along came Wilco, a band that takes residence high in the tower of song. At that point in my life, the Beach Boys didn’t even register. They were an unknown artefact.

In 2006, the pub at my university was an exchange ground for music, new and old. I used to sit with my friend, Trevor, and swap digital albums over beer. One day, Trevor gave me Endless Summer – a Beach Boys greatest-hits record that was released on Capitol in the early 70s – and Pet Sounds, which I would later recognize as one of the greatest albums released during the 1960s, second in sheer magnitude only to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. But on that day and for many months afterwards, seeing “The Beach Boys” on my ipod inspired little curiosity.

And then I discovered them. Parents of the world have many different strategies for calming their children. Some use bottles of warm milk. Others speak in soft, soothing tones. I play my child music. A few months ago, I was driving home from the grocery store. My two-year-old had gone the entire day without a nap and decided to let loose a purple-faced tantrum in his car seat. With patience thinning, I grabbed my ipod and chose the Beatles, but as I lifted my thumb from the navigation wheel, the ipod’s cursor slipped to the Beach Boys. (Anyone who owns an ipod has experienced such a slip). I quickly chose Endless Summer and, thanks to another slip, played the second song, “Surfer Girl.” Like Haitian voodoo, the song’s vocal harmonies entranced my son, and he calmed to a smile. In the weeks that followed, he demanded to hear the Beach Boys whenever we were in the car.

Since then, I’ve heard Endless Summer and Pet Sounds countless times, and I’ve grown to be a considerable fan of both. With a curious ear, I began noticing things I loved about the music: Chuck Berry guitar riffs, complex 4-part harmonies, jamming Wurlitzer organ tracks, and – feeding my tastes as a hobby historian – an insight to the fads and fashions of 1960s American surf culture.

Around this time, my brother found an original pressing of Summer Days (And Summer Nights!!) on thick, pre-oil crisis vinyl. I went to his place on a Saturday night and listened to it on his turntable, through a vintage pair of Danish-made Dynaco A-25 speakers that throw sound with a deep, low-end presence. My brother’s stereo verified the subtleties of Brian Wilson’s compositional and studio perfectionism, as well as his under-lying musical genius. This experience moved me to explore every corner of the Beach Boys’ career.

I’ve never been one to declare a favourite album from any artist. I prefer to keep slots open for incoming information and changes of heart. But currently, the Beach Boy’s have two records that I’m tending to favour: Beach Boys’ Party, and Smiley Smile. On a recent Goodwill excursion, I found an original pressing of Beach Boys’ Party. I had no idea what to expect when I put it on my turntable. I was pleasantly surprised by what’s presented as a live acoustic recording.

Beach Boys’ Party was released during the Christmas of 1965. Capitol Records – the Beach Boys’ label at that time – wanted the band to throw together an album to sell during the lucrative holiday shopping season. Fearful that a greatest-hits record would signal the end of the band’s creative and popular height, Brian Wilson – who was in the middle of working on Pet Sounds – suggested an album of cover songs, to be recorded in a studio and dubbed over the background noise of a party, giving the impression of an impromptu jam session. The tracks on this record are acoustic covers of doo-wop and rock & roll songs from the early 60s, written by the likes of Phil Spector, the Everly Brothers, the Beatles, Bob Dylan, and the Regents. In addition to the sound of bongos, and an acoustic bass and guitars, I love that the band’s voices and harmonies aren’t possessed of the usual piquancy of vocal tracking techniques and innovations found on other Beach Boys albums. On this record they sound unpolished, as though they were actually playing a party.

Smiley Smile marked the end of Brian Wilson’s creative leadership within the band. After Pet Sounds, Wilson began work on what was to be an even greater follow-up: Smile, a project he claimed would be “a teenage symphony to God.” Despite months of work on the record, Wilson abruptly scrapped Smile after John Lennon played him a reel-to-reel recording of “A Day in the Life.” Wilson claims that hearing the song sent him into years of over-eating, heavy alcohol and cocaine abuse, and a schizophrenic delirium, from which he continues to suffer. In an effort to keep up with contractual obligations to their record label, the Beach Boys quickly released Smiley Smile in 1967, to the confusion of fans and the dismay of certain band members, who had begun describing Wilson’s work as “avante garde shit.”

Critics often say that Smiley Smile is an under-realized, slapped-together project. The argument that it was quickly assembled certainly stands (it was finished in just two months). But I would argue that this is part of what makes it an incredible record. Smiley Smile is an album written on the verge of madness and it marks a frantic paradigm shift in Wilson’s song writing. For me, it burns brightest of all the Beach Boys’ efforts. The song structures and instrumentation are ahead of their time, giving Smiley Smile a strangely contemporary feel for listeners with modern tastes. Adding another layer of intrigue, Wilson’s imploding personal life is strongly felt on this record. The songs, which are a collaboration of Smile material and new compositions, appear in a disjointed and fragmented manner that reflects his unreeling mental health at that time.  Sadly, the refreshing white light of Brian Wilson’s genius on Smiley Smile came to pass as his psychological state went supernova. Removed as the band’s creative lead after the record flopped commercially, Wilson’s new path of song writing was never further explored.

Although the Beach Boys didn’t have an early influence on me, their impact through later discovery has been no less significant. When heard in the right format (180-gram vinyl) and through the right sound system, the depth of composition, arrangement, and absolute talent in the Beach Boys’ music becomes ripe for consideration and appreciation. Bury your memories of bad wedding DJ’s; forget the sound of an over-played track navigating your emotions through a light-hearted moment in a kitsch romantic comedy. The Beach Boys’ are worthy of your own personal discovery or reacquaintance – whichever it is.

Albums listened to while writing this: Surfer Girl, Pet Sounds, Beach Boys’ Party, Smiley Smile.




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