Sock Free Hideaway

BEATS OF LOVE 

153.  Do You Like Worms? (Roll Plymouth Rock) by The Beach Boys

BRIAN WILSON was a true saviour to me. I almost entirely owe my life to Pet Sounds, given how few things mirrored the intense, introspective estrangement I navigated in the late 80s.

Set-aside and bullied mercilessly, and pushed to create by a jealous father, he set the Beach Boys apart. Understanding intricate harmonies whilst tapping into the pop zeitgeist. Still today, the pinnacle of good-time popular music. 

After retiring from live performances in 1964, Wilson poured his experimentation into Pet Sounds. Featuring intricate harmonies, lush orchestration, and deeply emotional lyrics, the album successfully blended commercial success with high art. Complexity made to sound simple is never easy and takes true genius. Exchanging 4 boxes of records in the mid-nineties for my CD box set was an easy decision. 

In the fallout of his aborted masterpiece Smile, bandmates, accustomed to success, played the retro circuit to packed stadiums. His touches of genius on Wild Honey, Holland and Surf's Up whilst mainly laying on his bed full of barbiturate and fast-food are still brilliantly creative. With the conservative brand established, Brian played the part of the led astray leper for years. 

A Smile bootleg and Domenic Priore's Look! Listen! Vibrate! Smile! The Beach Boys, which documents the madness surrounding the sessions, were essential to every discerning music freak. Then in 2011 Capitol finally released all the session recordings onto CDs. This mind-blowing music lifted me into a higher state of grace. I have checked off my ultimate bucket list item. 

That it took that long to let the faithful hear the Smile sessions in all their studio glory tell you how conservative the brand was. More tragedy surrounded his life than his death. In death, those that know understand deeply just how important it was that the competition for pop musical supremacy took place. That Wilson felt tortured into surpassing the studio achievement of the Beatles means we've all benefited. 

That I have a favourite out of all his pure gold is a minor miracle, but this was the tune I played in my head post-op when I realised there was no morphine drip as promised. Literally pulling me through some of my most pained moments in this life. A saviour indeed.