Under the Rock

by Michael Pelusi

Unchained Melody

After all this time, Brian Wilson Presents SMiLE (Nonesuch) is finally here. After the drugs, the piano in the sandbox, the heroes and villains, biographers, meltdowns, embarrassments, comebacks, lawsuits and every single bootleg, he finally finished the damn thing.

Pity the poor nonaficionado, who now yet again must face the tidal wave of hyperbole about this so-called genius rising from music rags and message boards all over. 'Cause it's not like they could just, like, read something else.

Ah, let 'em scoff. They're missing out. For what it isn't, as much as what it is, SMiLE is pretty compelling stuff.

It still is a fascinating cautionary tale: An unfinished masterpiece sabotaged in 1967 by underwhelmed band members, an overbearing father and an overweening drug habit. Flash forward to 2003: Wilson—having been on one of the rockiest lifetimes ever afforded a pop star for sure—found himself in Japan with a band, faithfully re-creating his other magnum opus, the one he finished, Pet Sounds, for ecstatic, adoring crowds.

He was eating dinner with his band and his wife, Melinda. Jeffrey Foskett, a guitarist-vocalist in the band, recalls, "The question was posed, hypothetically and rhetorically, "Wow, what could you possibly do to outshine the Pet Sounds tour?' And I think Melinda said, "SMiLE.'"

And did Brian just say, "Yeah, OK"?

"I think he said "Wow, that's a trip.'"

Of course, there existed the chance that it would all go wrong again. When Wilson pulled the reins on SMiLE in '67, he and the Beach Boys recorded and released Smiley Smile in lieu, which reduced many SMiLE compositions to sketchy stoner in-jokes, resulting in a giant anticlimax that torched Wilson's attempt to push his band to a new creative apex.

What if it turned out Wilson was still incapable of realizing the project? This is, after all, Brian Wilson we're talking about, glazing distractedly, performing behind a keyboard that hardly gets touched.

But by February 2004, Wilson was again playing to wildly awestruck crowds, as he unveiled the newly finished SMiLE at London's Royal Festival Hall. Rock critics from The Guardian to Pitchforkmedia.com raved. Wilson and band headed to the recording studio, resulting in an album that has, again, collected ovations from reviewers.

Wilson's voice has lost much of the effortless sonority it once had, and though the harmonies are haunting and luscious, there's no duplicating the magic, fraternal blend of the Beach Boys. This is most apparent on the SMiLE songs that did get released by the Beach Boys—"Heroes and Villains," "Surf's Up" and especially the mighty "Good Vibrations," which closes the album.

Still, Wilson's band is practically the next best thing, and he proves up to the challenge vocally. His aged voice keeps SMiLE tethered to the ground. It is, after all, a most strange musical vision that Wilson and lyricist Van Dyke Parks have finally completed: in short order, a travelogue of Americana, a celebration of the life cycle and an invocation of the elements, with more than a few moments of charmingly goofy comic relief. Wilson has created a rich tableaux of what he's called "feels"—musical movements that build upon and call to each other, befitting this "teenage symphony to God."

SMiLE remains at least partially in the shadow of its original, abandoned incarnation, but this has become part of the album's unique appeal. For not only does this album have a huge backstory, it has an alternate reality as well. Had it been released in 1967, it might have indeed completely changed the whole musical landscape, not to mention Wilson's life. The things-that-might-have-been become absorbed in the album's very fabric, fitting for music that conjures vanished worlds via Parks' cryptic word games: "Have you seen the Grand Coulee workin' on a railroad?/ Over and over, the crow cries uncover the cornfield."

Foskett, who also played with The Beach Boys from 1980 to 1991, reflects, "You know this is a real monkey off his back. More than "I told you so,' he is so thrilled that people actually like this music and actually get this music, because he was afraid that they wouldn't understand because that's what his partners told him. Back then, it was not the formula. It was way out of the box but now it's just Brian Wilson. It's Brian at his coolest."

Brian Wilson plays Fri., Oct. 8, 8 p.m., $47.50-$57.50, Keswick Theatre, Easton Rd. and Keswick Ave., Glenside, 215-572-7650.