Thursday 05 Dec 2013
It's Raining Mice Hallelujah!
by Pam BTOE
By Ed BTOE September 28, 2012 11:44
The announcement a while back that the 'various remaining members' of what was known as the Beach Boys had decided to get back together and perform, struck me as a little odd. The bad blood that has been positively toxic over many years would seem to have have had some amazing chemotherapy, and has entered into some kind of remission. There was the Jardine camp against the Mike Love camp, and then there was the Mike Love camp against the lone Wilson camp. Mix up these permutations and everybody sues everybody else. Nobody likes each other. Now we can throw in the mix, David Marks, an early Beach Boy for about 15 minutes, who is now back in the endless summer camp, and finally Bruce Johnson, the original full-time cheesy grin replacement when Brian went properly AWOL in 1967.
Getting back together to perform is one thing, but announcing an album of new songs is another, and surely one Surfboard too far! I am absolutley convinced that money is not the motivator here. I am sure that David Marks' pension fund does not need to be topped up. I am sure that Mike Love's well documented ego is under control and I just saw three pigs flying, and there is a mermaid at the bottom of my garden as well. So my judgement is perfectly sound.
Let it be known that the Beach Boys should only be allowed to use the name if Dennis and Carl agree. And for those of you who care; Dennis and Carl are long deceased. They were also hugely talented Wilsons, and when their big brother was absent for many years they propped everything up brilliantly. Carl became the grown up and led the way, and Dennis became a musical genius to seriously rival his older brother Brian. Pacific Ocean Blue is the work of a major talent. It is a masterpiece. I can't speak for Dennis and Carl, but I suspect what their simple answer would be to a Beach Boys renunion, and sadly the expression 'over my dead body' no longer applies.
The new album, That's Why God Made The Radio, is wretched. It is terrible, awful, crass, boring, turgid. It is an excercise in throwing a bunch of ideas to form some excuses for songs using familiar gold dust words such as: Spring, Ocean, Summer, Pacific Coast, Beaches and so on and on. The lyrics are so trite they should be banned. All the more remarkable is that the reviews have been 'not terrible'. I can only assume that the reviewers have forgotten about Sunflower, Surf's Up, Holland, Pet Sounds and even Today.
Mat Snow, who I respect totally, gave it four stars in Mojo. Mat, please! you need a slapping or a good talking to. This album is not even a one star. Is it me? please tell me, is it me. I have loved the Beach Boys for almost 50 years. I have every single album (even this pot of urine). Tell me please, what am I missing? Nostalgia is not what is used to be.
by Tom Larkin