The Beach Boys
15 Big Ones/Love You (Brother/Warner Bros. 2258)

Folks are always wanting to champion some other album besides Pet Sounds as another masterpiece. Friends is always a big contender (it has some true gems, but two words to debunk that myth, folks: "Transcendental Meditation"), then there's always talk of Sunflower being a lost classic as well.

Whatever, you know? Just because an album was ignored at the time and has a few great songs doesn't make it a "classic." The latest album to get the kid gloves treatment is the "Brian's Back"-era album The Beach Boys Love You, a sprawling mess of an affair that for some reason fascinates Peter Buck … perhaps because working on any given recent REM album would make everything else seem utterly fascinating.

There are bright spots along Love You's skyline, sure … along with quite a few bloody car wrecks and the occasional embarassing, unfunny "wacky morning radio show" billboard. Welcome to BeachBoysVille, circa '76.

It should be an immediate warning flag to anyone who owns the superb Beach Boys box set Good Vibrations from '94 that NONE of the 14 tracks on Love You will look remotely familiar. It starts off innocently enough with "Let Us Go On This Way," which is a very average Brian Wilson song, then slowly begins to numb your parietal lobe.

The album's most famous track, "Johnny Carson," might ring a bell for some, due to its strangely increasing legend.

The story goes that Brian was writing songs at the piano all the time at this stage of his life for therapy, so once he heard the news the Beach Boys were scheduled for a "Tonight Show" appearance, Brian wrote "Johnny" to help alleviate his fears.

I've gotta admit the song has made quite a few mix tapes since I've owned it, though my general reaction is still a furrowed "Huh?" when I hear lines like "When guests are boring, he pulls up the slack/John-ny Car-son."

Then there's the singalong, slo-mo cheerleading-esque ending that comes out of nowhere: "Who's the man that we admire?/Johnny Carson is a real livewire." You know, I wonder if Mike Love actually ever caught himself going, "Sheesh, maybe we SHOULD call in Van Dyke Parks again."

"Johnny Carson" is preceded by what was is widely regarded as the worst B-Boys song ever: "Mona." Take a nauseating 50s-style four-chord progression, and have it repeat for two minutes straight … no bridge, no chorus, no variations … oh, and throw in a very beat Dennis Wilson rasping such lines as "Disco-disco-discotechque mama" and "I know you're gonna love Phil Spector."

Hm, upon reading that back, the miniature, subversive "devil" version of myself appears suddenly on my left shoulder and says "No, wait … this is the BEST Beach Boys song ever." Oh, if I only hadn't sold my soul for a hot prom date and acne-free skin way back when.

Love You surely has its own sound, as nothing elsewhere in the Beach Boys catalog quite has its buzzing synth bass, virtual lack of cymbals and hi-hats (Did Dennis forget to bring two drumsticks to the sessions?), VERY upfront vocals, chorus thicker than the deepest shag carpeting, and a click track apparently locked in to the same loping midtempo beat.

The saddest thing about "Roller Skating Child" is that Mike Love gives it an eerie sense of sincerity, though it's impossible to not picture this girl being more than 16 … a strange recurring theme in 70s Beach Boys songs.

By the time the album hits "Ding Dang," a minute-long piece of crap co-written with Roger McGuinn that gives Dylan's embarrasing "Wiggle Wiggle" an aura of genius, it should be clear that this is no Pet Sounds, unless your pet happens to be an overweight, doddering old dog with heinously bad gas.

I guess it's too easy to fall into "Every Beach Boys album should've been Pet Sounds" mode, though when you're a band that has the ability to make such aural bliss like "'Til I Die," even years after you've hit your creative peak, your "fun" stuff should be at least interesting.

Love You is interesting in the same way as a photo book of mostly inoffensive medical deformities.

As for 15 Big Ones a mainly "oldies" cover album with a few bad originals – it just SUCKS.

Loud Bassoon rating scale

Review by Bradley A. Milton