Smile

11/04/2004 10:00 PM, Yahoo! Music
Ken Micallef

The story is almost as old rock ‘n’ roll itself. Thirty-eight years ago, when Brian Wilson was at his creative-artistic-mental peak after recording the Beach Boys’ legendary Pet Sounds (which was roundly panned at the time), he followed up with an ambitious plan to document a three-part American musical epic he called, “a teenage symphony to God.” The other Beach Boys, then out touring corny hits like “Sloop John B” and “Help Me Rhonda” returned to LA with nothing but criticism after hearing brother Brian’s efforts. “Freaked out,” “a whole album of Brian’s madness” hinted at their true feelings. Broadsided by his own band, Brian gave up, tuned out, and mentally crumbled, abandoning Smile and creating one of the greatest mysteries in pop. Snippets of Smile appeared on the Beach Boys’ albums Surf’s Up and Wild Honey, and on comps and bootlegs, but Smile became a classic enigma, lost to the ages.

As the years passed and Wilson slowly retrieved his facilities, talk of a new Smile hit the press. Wilson joined with pop revivalists the Wondermints; the musicians played the entire Smile album live to a London audience last year, which led to this fully realized, freshly interpreted recording, Smile, delivered live and in living color, as they used to say in the ’60s. The eternal question, “Would Smile have successfully (as often opined) challenged the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper as the most creative pop work of the ’60s and beyond?, can now be answered. Or can it?

Topped by Van Dyke Parks’s fruity lyrics, Smile is a journey through layers of experimental Americana, as if Gershwin, Robert Foster, Walt Disney, and a deranged barbershop quartet dropped LSD-25 together and Pro Tooled the results into mini-symphonies of pop perfection. Smile is a rousing success, the songs rolling out beautifully with Wilson and the musicians in exceptional form. Beach Boy fans can now bask in the glory of Wilson’s vision, brought to life like the Holy Grail dredged up from the mire. The vocals are exquisite, Wilson and the Wondermints sounding like the ultimate pop choir as the music draws upon generations of American songcraft.

But for all Smile’s vocal and instrumental splendor, missing elements will forever keep the original Smile an untouchable artifact. One element is Wilson’s own voice. Reflecting the shell of the man that he is today compared to the inspired 24-year-old of the mid-’60s, Wilson sounds oddly hollow, especially when singing the revised lyrics to “Good Vibrations,” surely the album’s most obtrusive misstep. But what is most obvious is the loss of the golden voices of the Beach Boys, especially Carl Wilson, whose creamy, flexible tenor was perhaps Brian’s greatest instrument. Smile must also be compared to its original place in ’60s history. Mirroring the music are the shadows of an era passed, of a better America when pop music was regularly touched by genius, inspiration, and beauty. By contrast, the new Smile is cold, lacking the intimacy of the Smile sessions, employing the ease of perfect technology over the mettle of dazzling genius.

Should you buy Smile? Definitely. It is still a masterwork of American pop, and deserves a place next to other acclaimed 20th Century pieces like “Rhapsody In Blue,” Kind Of Blue, and “Sheena Is A Punk Rocker.” But to understand the full majesty of Smile, check out the reissued albums Smiley Smile/Wild Honey, Sunflower/Surf’s Up and the bootleg Smile on Luna Records.