A joyful evening of ‘Pet Sounds’
Brian Wilson’s name is far from the top of the list of pop music artists known for social and political commentary, and his 50th-anniversary performance of the Beach Boys’ watershed “Pet Sounds” album Sunday at the Hollywood Bowl was probably the last place concertgoers expected to encounter reflections on the day’s headlines.
But at the end of the night, after a top-to-bottom re-creation of “Pet Sounds” as well as another hour’s worth of some of the sunniest, most joyful pop songs ever created, Wilson revamped his signature solo hit “Love and Mercy” with a jolting lyric change that showed he was painfully aware of what’s happening in the world around him.
The 1988 song was always a cry from a sensitive soul against loneliness and alienation, but on Sunday, Wilson
altered the verse that says, “I was lyin’ in my room and the news came on TV / A lot of people out there hurtin’ and it really scares me.” Instead, he sang, “A lot of people out there getting shot, and it really hurts me.”
It made the song that much more powerful in the prayer-like chorus that says, “love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight, love and mercy to you and your friends tonight.”
Beyond the words themselves, the song, like so much of Wilson’s music, serves up exquisite harmony created with a multiplicity of voices and instruments working together in wondrous harmony, no insignificant accomplishment at a time of nearly daily examples of the disharmony evident in human relations.
It was delivered as a coda at the end of two hours of music written or co-written by Wilson, who has often stated in interviews that his goal in life has always been to bring to the world more good vibrations.
That he did Sunday, most significantly in the performance of “Pet Sounds.” It’s an album that dramatically expanded the musical vocabulary of pop music half a century ago when Wilson, the other Beach Boys and a raft of top Hollywood session musicians recorded it just down the street and around the corner from the iconic concert venue.
It opens with the ebullient melody played by electric guitar and piano leading into an attention-commanding drum crack setting up the opening words, “Wouldn’t it be nice,” in which Wilson sings about the love-filled world he yearns for.
The central perspective of the “Pet Sounds” songs he wrote mostly with a new lyricist collaborator, Tony Asher — who made a cameo at the end of the night happily banging a tambourine — was a young man’s transition from adolescence to adulthood.
Hearing them sung by an artist who turned 74 two weeks ago made them a shared memory of a longago time in life, yet the joy of exploration of new vistas hasn’t dimmed a whit with age.
Wilson was at a creative peak and was hungry to burst out of any limitations imposed on him or pop music in general. As he told The Times recently, “I was tired of of making surf songs and car songs. I wanted to grow musically.”
The results of that desire came forth in the explosively innovative “Pet Sounds” album, which employed orchestral colors and textures far beyond what most of his guitar, bass and drums-rooted peers were doing.
His 11-piece Brian Wilson Band assisted heroically Sunday, bringing so much of what Wilson laid down in extensive recording sessions 50 years ago to life in the live setting.
Dozens of instruments from woodwinds and brass to a phalanx of guitars, keyboards and percussion effects were employed simultaneously with his inspired choral vocal parts served up in four-, five- and six-part harmonious wonder.
“You Still Believe in Me” expresses gratitude to a romantic partner for ongoing faith despite the singer’s shortcomings, and Wilson crafted a cathedral-like choral refrain that’s repeated several times in the song’s second half, a wordless workout that lets the music take him beyond where mere words can travel.
The hymn-like atmosphere of “Don’t Talk (Put Your Head on My Shoulder)” was established with sonorous organ notes, the string section break replaced in the Bowl with a transcription for guitars and keyboards.
That was one spot where the night demonstrated it wasn’t a 100% note-for-note re-creation of “Pet Sounds” but a contemporary interpretation of the album.
The biggest difference, of course, is Wilson’s voice, which at age 23, when he composed, arranged, orchestrated and sang lead on most of the songs, was a miraculous instrument that seemed to have no limit, especially in the high melodies and harmonies that were a defining part of the Beach Boys’ sound.
His well-publicized nervous breakdown and years of drug abuse have taken their toll. His range has come back significantly since he returned to public performance in 1999, but he still defers throughout the show to singer Matt Jardine — the son of Beach Boys founding member Al Jardine, who also is part of this tour — for the most stratospheric parts that remain beyond him.
Wilson also struggles with sustaining notes to the degree he once could. That sacrifices some of the seamless quality of the original performances, rendering a song such as the album-closing “Caroline, No” choppier than it once was.
Thus the passage of time was felt, yet the core beauty of Wilson’s effortless melodies, intricate harmonies and expansive instrumentation still shined.
Preceding and following the “Pet Sounds” performance were a generous batch of Beach Boys classics including “Surfin’ U.S.A.,” “Fun, Fun, Fun,” “Dance, Dance, Dance,” “Good Vibrations,” “I Get Around,” “California Girls,” “Heroes and Villains,” “Don’t Worry Baby” and “Surfer Girl” as well as deeper tracks such as “Wild Honey” and “Sail on Sailor,” both featuring latter-day Beach Boys singerguitarist Blondie Chaplin, and “Hushabye.”
Yet with so many high points over the course of the evening, it’s a good bet that the “Love and Mercy” finale was the moment most of those on hand were talking about as they exited the Bowl.
L.A.-based singer, songwriter, guitarist and producer M. Ward opened with a fiery 50-minute set of his vintage rock and pop-inspired songs.
He was joined for part of that set by his She & Him vocal partner, Zooey Deschanel, and for a pair of songs at the conclusion by My Morning Jacket’s Jim James and singer-songwriter Conor Oberst.