What I Did On My Holidays, By Andrew Aged 33 3/4

Or a review of the two Beach Boys gigs I was at in Italy.

Before I start… the Beach Boys (in whatever configuration) tailor their sets to their audiences and venues, and so the sets I saw (in open-air venues in continental Europe, where they always play comparatively conservative sets) aren’t a reflection either of the sets they’ve been doing in the US (where they’ve been doing a lot of deep catalogue songs) or the shows they’re expected to do in the UK or Japan.

That said…

This was one of those trips where every single thing goes right. I got out of the taxi at the hotel in Rome, to see someone standing in front of the door, who immediately said to me “You must be Andrew!” — it was someone I’ve known on various Beach Boys forums for years, but have never met in person, and while I knew he was going to the gigs, I didn’t realise we were staying in the same hotel. He’d recognised me from my self-description.

It was that kind of trip.

After getting to the venue many hours early — both Italian gigs were standing ones, so if I wanted to get a decent view I had to be there *early* — we first heard over the PA the playlist of classic sunshine pop that is used as the intro music for Brian Wilson’s solo shows (I made a playlist of this music on Spotify ages ago, for those who want to hear it), followed by a tedious loop advertising other shows at that stadium. Finally we got what appears to be the intro tape used for all the shows on this tour — Be My Baby by the Ronettes, In The Still Of The Night by The Five Satins, Graduation Day by The Four Freshmen, Changes by The Zombies, a surf instrumental I should know but don’t, and finally, right before the band came on, The Rain, The Park And Other Things by The Cowsills.

The backing band entered and started up Do It Again. This band consists of the core of Brian Wilson’s touring band — keyboardists Darian Sahanaja and Scott Bennett, falsetto vocalist Jeff Foskett, woodwind player and co-musical-director Paul Mertens, percussionist Nelson Bragg and multi-instrumentalist Probyn Gregory, along with Mike D’Amico, who normally plays drums or percussion for Wilson but here plays bass. These people are all fantastically talented musicians in their own right (especially Probyn — he’s in or has played with about a dozen different bands, most of which are among my very favourite bands of the last few decades). Guitarist Nick Walusko has had to leave the tour for health reasons.

Joining the musicians from Wilson’s band are two musicians from the band that’s been touring as “the Beach Boys” for the last eleven years, drummer John Cowsill (formerly of The Cowsills) and guitarist/vocalist/co-musical-director Scott Totten. These are both fantastic additions — they’re the two most talented members of the touring Beach Boys, and Totten shows at least as much devotion to getting the music *right* as Brian’s band do (so much so that after he was made bandleader many people started saying they actually preferred the Beach Boys touring band to Brian’s), while Cowsill is simply the best live drummer I’ve ever seen, bar none, and can play with the precision of a Hal Blaine while also giving the music an energy that Brian’s band have previously somewhat lacked.

Once they started playing, the five surviving 1960s Beach Boys came on stage.

While this tour is billed as a reunion, these five men have never all played together before this year — there was a little game of line-up musical chairs in the early 60s, and again in the late 90s, so while they’ve all played with all the other members in a band called the Beach Boys, these five Beach Boys only got on stage with each other for the first time at the Grammys earlier this year.

Despite that, there’s a real chemistry there that comes from having worked together, off and on, for fifty years. They all have their own role on-stage and fall into it absolutely naturally. Brian Wilson sits off to one side, plays keyboard, and takes a lot of lead vocals, but he’s many people’s main focus. He’s an absolutely riveting presence even though he’s not doing much — and he’s *very* engaged (for him — Brian has never been totally happy with stage performance. But having seen him solo eight times, he’s at least as happy and comfortable with this tour as he’s ever been on-stage.)

David Marks takes all the guitar solos, and is the most ‘rock-star’ish of the band, the closest to a conventional idea of cool. He’s also quite an intense, focussed guitarist, not interacting much with the rest of the band but concentrating on his playing.

Mike Love is the frontman and main lead singer, and the most controversial member of the band. On this tour he’s toned down the less classy aspects of his on-stage schtick, although he’s still using many of the same jokes, with the same timing, that he used in 2001, 2002, 2004, 2008 and 2011 (just counting the shows I’ve seen him do before). On this first show he was sounding very nasal, and quite often flat — more so than at any previous show I’ve seen him do — but he sounded great on the second show.

Al Jardine is really the revelation of these shows. His voice is the only one which is even better than it was in the 60s, and he just sounds incredible. He’s also as serious about his vocals as Marks is about his guitar — seeing the intensity on his face as he sings even the more banal parts is wonderful.

And Bruce Johnston acts as cheerleader, doing very little musically in comparison with the other four (only taking one lead vocal, Wendy), but keeping the crowd clapping and enthused.

These five very different men somehow click as a unit, in a way that the band simply didn’t in the 80s and 90s. They interact like old friends, not like people who can’t stand the sight of each other — and the same goes for their interactions with the backing band. While there have been reports that some band members are less keen on these shows than on the Brian Wilson tours, they’re still giving it their all on stage, from Darian Sahanaja taking a great lead on Darlin’ to Probyn dancing away to Nelson’s percussion interplay with John Cowsill. You simply couldn’t imagine a better live band than the thirteen men on that stage.

Some people have asked, incidentally, to what extent the Beach Boys themselves contribute instrumentally. I was up front for both shows, and at opposite ends of the stage each time, and watching very closely, and so I can say this:

Brian — at various points in the Rome show he played odd little bass runs with his left hand which were audible in the mix, and during the intro and first verse of Kokomo he was the only one playing keyboards, and he was *very* audible then.

Dave — his guitar is always in the mix, but his vocal isn’t. The only times I could swear he was in the vocal mix were for Getcha Back, Surfer Girl and In My Room, while on Cal Dreaming he came in for the massed “Ooh” backing vocals four bars too early, and nothing came out of the sound system.

Al — his guitar is definitely audible at times. The part he’d normally play on banjo on California is on guitar for these shows, and very audible, and a couple of times when he stopped playing to adjust his mic or his settings I noticed the rhythm guitar part get thinner.

Bruce — Never noticed his keyboard in the mix, though it might have been, and when Mike did his “give me my note” bit on Be True To Your School, Bruce hit a key and nothing came out…

That said, the Rome show did have a couple of flaws — both Brian Wilson and Al Jardine fluffed their lead vocals (on You’re So Good To Me and Then I Kissed Her respectively) in such a way as to temporarily throw the band for a bar or two, and David Marks tried a bit of improvisation on some solos that didn’t *quite* come off. But those flaws were more than offset by the rest of the show.

In particular, Brian hasn’t been in better voice in decades than on this tour, mostly because he’s not having to carry the whole show by himself, and even on a song that would not normally be a highlight, like their cover version of California Dreamin’, he sings with an energy that he normally never matches. And while he got distracted a couple of times (I think he was hearing voices — I know the expression all too well from my days working on a psychiatric ward) he carried on playing even when he wasn’t giving it his full attention.

And while it was a more hit-oriented show than they’ve been doing in the US (and more so than they’re planning to do in the UK), and certainly leaned far more on the early fun-in-the-sun material than I’d choose, it was still a forty-five song set, and many, many of those songs are among the best songs ever written. I can’t complain at a show which includes Heroes & Villains, All This Is That, God Only Knows, Wouldn’t It Be Nice, In My Room, Good Timin’, California, Don’t Worry Baby, Please Let Me Wonder, Good Vibrations and Sail On Sailor, can I?

On the US leg of the tour they got the balance in the setlist exactly right, while here it was leaning more towards crowd-pleasers — but the thing about crowd-pleasers is that they do please the crowds, and usually for a reason.

After two and a quarter hours, the band left the stage, and the audience spontaneously started singing the falsetto part to the tag of Fun Fun Fun (the closing song) until the band came back on just to look at the audience and grin.

But that wasn’t the best day…

The next day, I got a train from Rome to Milan to go to the second Italian gig. And so did the Beach Boys.

I was just about to get on the train when I saw , walking past me, the familiar curmudgeonly JFK-meets-Cagney face of Bruce “Europeans are socialist assholes who hate success” Johnston, followed by the equally familiar and much more friendly face of Darian Sahanaja.

I didn’t bother the band on the train itself — I’m not the kind of fan who wants to interfere with their days — but I did speak briefly to several of the band members as they were walking past. I wished Probyn Gregory a happy birthday, exchanged a couple of words with a couple of the backing band members, and spoke briefly with Bruce, Al and Mike.

Bruce and Mike were about as you’d expect — Bruce being minimally polite, saying “thanks for coming” and walking past without stopping (which is absolutely fine, incidentally, not a complaint — he *was* polite, and he owes me nothing more than that, and on other occasions when I’ve spoken to him he’s been positively garrulous), while Mike stopped and spoke for a minute, and was very friendly, but got away pretty much straight away (again, as he’s entirely entitled to do — he had a train to catch).

Al Jardine, though, was absolutely lovely to talk to. I didn’t get to talk with him much (again, train to catch) but he stopped for longer than any of the others, and seemed genuinely delighted to talk with me a little about the tour and about his solo album.

Getting to the gig, we were allowed close enough while queuing to hear the full soundcheck (Kiss Me Baby, Darlin’, California Girls and a couple of others), before going in.

The setlist was similar to that of the day before, but they added two more songs (Ballad Of Ole Betsy and This Whole World — I don’t mind admitting I yelled with excitement when they played that one), bringing it to forty-seven songs long, and while the show the night before had been extremely good, this time the band were just *on fire* — it was one of those nights when everyone seemed to be playing at their peak. Mike’s voice was much less nasal, Dave Marks’ guitar improvisations worked rather than failing, and in general the whole thing was just that little bit better than the night before.

(The one exception is that Brian seemed slightly less engaged, though still better than at many of his solo shows.)

Al Jardine also recognised me from earlier, waved at me several times, and threw me his plectrum at the end (a custom plectrum with the Beach Boys 50th Anniversary Tour logo on one side and John Stamos written on the other — according to Probyn Gregory later, all the guitarists have their own custom plectra, and Stamos presumably had some done for the couple of shows he guested at in New York). I also held up a “Happy Birthday, Probyn” banner (made by my wife, Holly, for me to take), which got smiles from several of the band members. (That banner and the greeting at the train station also sparked a conversation between Probyn and myself on Facebook later, which was nice).

I know I’m sounding a bit like a fawning fanboy here, when I ‘should’ be complaining that they didn’t do Our Prayer or I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times like they did at some US shows, or making fun of Mike Love, or something. But I’m not going to. This was nowhere near the artistic achievement of the Van Dyke Parks show I saw last month — in fact it’s arguable whether it was the artistic equal of the Monkees show I saw last year (though that says more about how great the Monkees were than anything else). But it was a group of incredible entertainers and musicians, performing forty-five-song-plus sets including some of my very favourite songs along with some songs which, while not quite so good, clearly made tens of thousands of people at the gig very, very happy.

It’s not the mouth-open awe of Brian’s UK tour in 2002, or of the Smile tour, or the premiere of That Lucky Old Sun — those are experiences on a totally different plane. But these shows were *much* better than Brian’s 2008 UK tour, when he played essentially the same hits setlist (but a much shorter set, and with less enthusiasm), and the difference between these shows and the joyless trudge that passed for a Beach Boys show in the 80s or 90s is impossible to overstate.

This tour is a one-off thing, and there is already talk of Brian Wilson’s next solo tour, and the next tour by Love and Johnston as “the Beach Boys”, so if you get a chance to see it, do so. I do hope that, as is rumoured, they add more of the artier stuff for the Wembley show, but even if they don’t, it’ll still be a show to remember.

Linkblogging For 30/07/12

I’ll have a What I Did On My Holiday post up soon, maybe later tonight, but I’m finding typing a little difficult right now, because of all the mosquito bites on my hand. So for now, just have some links:

A rather wonderful find — a Polish radio station has, apparently legally, got all 1001 albums from the book 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die available for free streaming. They’re fairly obvious choices, but precisely because of that obviousness it’s a great resource if you’ve never heard (or just don’t own) any of the acknowledged classics. If you’ve never quite got round to listening to Kind Of Blue, Ellington At Newport, The Genius Of Ray Charles, Songs Of Leonard Cohen, Pet Sounds, Scott 4, Odessey & Oracle or one of the other 994 albums there, now’s your chance.

Lib Dems block further welfare cuts.

Jennie got the same lessons from The Dark Knight Rises that I did

New Scientist says (rightly) that the Olympic sex test rules should be torn up.

Jim Hines on why he cancelled his Reddit Q&A (warning, potentially triggering due to discussions of sexual violence)

My Current Reading List

After my trip to see the Beach Boys, I hope to be posting more here again — the Peculiar Branch story will start up again, and after the next (last) Kinks post, I’m going to write the next Beach Boys book. I’m also going to resume the Who posts on the Mindless Ones and start a new series of posts over there (a collaboration with my wife Holly).

But I’ll still be posting at a lower rate than I was up until a couple of months ago, and that’s because (as well as work stuff and similar) there’s a project I’m working on that I can’t talk about yet (things haven’t been finalised for it, and everything might go horribly wrong) but which I’m *tremendously* excited about.

I can, however, share with you some of the reading/re-reading list for researching this (minus anything that would give the game away too much):

The Arabian Nights (unexpurgated)
Fear And Loathing On The Campaign Trail and Better Than Sex by Hunter S Thompson
Everything Is Under Control: Conspiracies, Cults And Cover-Ups by Robert Anton Wilson
The Life Of Sir Richard Burton by Thomas Wright
All The President’s Men by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward

Blogging Light for a little while

I’m planning to travel to Italy on Wednesday to see the Beach Boys, and will have no internet access for the few days I’m over there.

But I say planning because one of the few things that could be more important has come up — my wife’s grandfather, who has been seriously ill for years, looks like he is going to die in the next day or two.
I’ve already booked my wife’s ticket over to the US (where her family live), but depending on how much her family want me there, I may have to cancel my fun trip for one that is much less fun.

That sounds like a very callous way of looking at it, but it’s not. Holly’s grandfather is, outside Holly herself, my favourite member of her family, and I’ve cried quite a bit today thinking of him. But me attending the funeral won’t bring him back, won’t give me any ‘closure’ (funerals only ever make me feel worse, never better), will stress Holly more (she’ll worry about me, I don’t travel well), and would cost a ludicrously huge amount of money at this notice (on top of the ludicrous amount of money we paid for Holly’s ticket). I’m willing to do it anyway if they want me there, though.

Either way, the next week is going to involve some comforting of my distraught wife, and some foreign travel, so don’t expect much from me. If I end up going to the Beach Boys gigs, expect very, very detailed reports at the weekend. If I don’t, don’t.

The Lodger at The Cornerhouse/Barbican #thelodger

Well, that was the very definition of a mixed bag.

I’ve just been to see part of the world premiere of the BFI’s new restoration of The Lodger. I say ‘part of’ because this was also the first night of a new co-operative venture between various arts centres around the country, including the Barbican, the Cornerhouse, and similar places elsewhere, where they were live broadcasting the film to cinemas round the country with a live score by the LSO. And on that level, it was a bit of a disaster.

We’d been told, when pre-booking the tickets, to arrive about 6:30 as the film would start at 7:15 prompt, and it had nearly sold out and so we’d need to get there early to get decent seats. In fact, the doors didn’t even open until 7:10 and it was less than a quarter full.

At 7:20 we were then ‘treated’ to, in order, a long trailer of famous scenes from Hitchcock films, a video introduction from someone who’s making a film about Hitchcock, some chat with the CEO of the new venture mentioned above, the same video introduction played again, and two separate introductions talking about the restoration process and the importance of the film in Hitchcock’s career, before the film finally started at around 8.

That in itself wouldn’t be a problem — that sort of thing can add a lot to a film if you know it’s going to happen — but between that and having been told erroneously to get there so early, this had my sister worried that her parking pass would expire before the film ended.

And then, thirty-five minutes into the film, they lost the live feed from London (apparently a fault at the London end). After seven minutes’ waiting around, we went and got refunds for our tickets and left, since they wouldn’t be able to restart the film where it left off.

But other than that, how did you like the play, Mrs Lincoln?

The film itself remains extraordinary like stairlifts. I’m always astounded by how much visual information was conveyed in many of the silent films, and I do think there’s a case for saying that the introduction of sound was in a very real sense the death of the art of cinema. You simply couldn’t make a film as fast-paced and information-dense as this once sound was introduced, just due to the technical limitations that early sound films were working with. There are editing techniques here that wouldn’t become widespread again until at least the eighties, and it makes pretty much every film made in the next few decades look stodgy and slow-moving. My sister, who had never seen a silent film before, was amazed at how modern the storytelling was and how easy it was to follow.

(Of course, it is a film by Hitchcock, and not all directors are Hitchcock, and there’s also the fact that the films which survive from the silent era are by definition those someone thought worth preserving, but even so the difference between something like this and even a very good talkie from the first few decades of sound is staggering).

The score by Nitin Sawhney is more of a mixed bag. Some of it is *very* effective, but at times when he aims for period pastiche, or for pastiche-Hermann, he’s just far enough off that a sophisticated listener will go “Oh, I see what you tried to do there”. In general, the score drew slightly too much attention to itself, and there’s one utterly unforgivable bit where he inserts an actual pop song, with lyrics, into the score. Putting that kind of verbal information up against film that wasn’t designed to accommodate it detracts from, rather than adding to, the effect of the film. But it worked more often than it didn’t, and when it did work it was very good.

The restoration, though, was just spectacular. Easily the best restoration of a silent film I’ve ever seen, it was cleaned up so much that it looked like it had been shot yesterday. Seriously, there was barely a speck in the entire thing, and for a film shot at 20fps it was amazingly smooth (I suspect some VidFIRE-esque frame interpolation has gone on).

If you get a chance to see this restoration on the big screen, jump at it. Just not if it’s on a live feed from London.

Linkblogging For 16/07/12

I’ve not been up to writing much the last few days (though I’m hoping at least to get the last Kinks post up this week, and contribute to part four of the Mindless League posts) so here’s a few links:

I forgot to link to it earlier, but Lawrence Burton has started a book blog, mostly looking at SF books, but not from the ‘within SF fandom’ perspective (although he used to be in Doctor Who fandom, but that’s not really the same thing). So far he’s come to the conclusions that Anathem by Neal Stephenson is great until the plot starts happening, that Simon Bucher-Jones is an horrifically underrated writer, and that steampunk is a load of wank, all of which will be familiar conclusions to readers of this blog. All of which suggests that given that he writes the first positive review of Twilight I’ve ever read, I might actually have to read that…

Pharyngula on the infeasibility of ‘whole-brain emulation’
. In principle, I’m all in favour of the idea of transhumanism. In practice, it tends to express itself as a lot of extreme right-wing nerds who have been brought up with a fundamentalist eschatology but have decided that they’ve become more ‘rational’ than that, deciding that they’re going to live forever because of SCIENCE!!! (as opposed to science), and with a liberal application of handwavium. Sad, because I would genuinely *love* to see a benevolent technological singularity. I just haven’t ever seen any evidence that one is possible.

Maria Cole, wife of Nat “King” Cole and last surviving singer from the 1940s Ellington band, died recently. Orange Crate Art has a small tribute.

Werdsmiffery on how his opinion of Darwyn Cooke has changed since Before Watchmen

And Liberal Burblings argues (correctly in my view) that if the Tories won’t vote for Lords reform, we should break the coalition and form one with Labour for the rest of this Parliament.

Good Things

Just thought I’d do a quick post reminding myself that despite all the bad stuff in the world (and many bad things which I haven’t mentioned on my blog have happened to me and my friends in recent weeks, so if I’ve seemed grumpier or less talkative in comments, there have been reasons), there’s still stuff to be happy about:

There are good people who support every major (and most minor) political party. I’ve had supportive tweets today from friends who are Tories and Scot Nats and a retweet from someone I’m pretty sure is a Green. I have many good friends in Labour and know some very good people in the Pirate Party. Just because at the moment the particular type of arsehole who bothers publicly attacking me is a Labour-supporting type, doesn’t mean all Labour supporters are abusive arseholes. Human decency crossing party lines is a good thing.

In less than two weeks I will be seeing the Beach Boys live, twice, in two different cities. I will also be seeing Michael Nesmith, Ray Davies and Squeeze this year, and have seen Van Dyke Parks and Neil Innes. That these people are still alive and making music, and that I get to see them, is a good thing.

Woody Guthrie would have been a hundred years old today. Woody Guthrie is a good thing.

We live in a world where pretty much every track Duke Ellington recorded before 1960 is available to stream, at a single click, on Spotify. Duke Ellington is a good thing.

I have Charles Stross’ new Laundry book. Charles Stross is a good thing.

In general, we live in a world where access to great cultural works of the past is so inexpensive that I currently own twenty-eight hours of Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies cartoons on DVD, along with many documentaries, commentary tracks and so on, and the price of this came to less than one pound per hour of cartoons. Cheap access to great art is a good thing.

(The Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies cartoons may not be *high* art, but they’re often *great* low art. I can also access Glenn Gould playing Bach at a click of a mouse button, and have an ereader stuffed with free copies of everything from John Bunyan to G. K. Chesterton to James Joyce. These are all good things too.)

And when I’m not under attack from trolls, this blog’s comment section generally has some of the nicest, most decent, most thoughtful commenters you’ll find on the internet, and even though I’m not great at replying, I’m grateful to all of you. Good people are good things.

(I also have a wife, but she doesn’t like it when I say things she thinks are over-complimentary about her, so about her I’ll say no more.)

The friendship of good people, and the beauty of great art, will have lasting effects long after the trolls are forgotten.