Ah yeah, this is the stuff. Friends, the world is indeed a better place now that Brian Wilson is back making his own music again. I don't mean to over-speak, but American music just wasn't the same without its greatest songwriter having a legitimate presence.
When you spin That Lucky Old Sun (Capitol Records), do yourself the favor of focusing on the music first. Sounds simple, but this incredible symphony of sounds is where Wilson and his new album are at their absolute best. The signature vocal harmonies are ever-present, too. And they're in beautiful lockstep with the music, helping Sun to fill a room like few albums before it.
If SMiLE was his “teenage symphony to God," then That Lucky Old Sun is a peek into his diary. The genesis of Wilson's recent creative explosion is “Forever You'll Be My Surfer Girl," a nostalgic callback that kicked down the door in Brian's brain and flooded his veins with new musical ideas. To help make his aural vision complete, Wilson even got back with pal Van Dyke Parks, which is both a blessing and a curse. Parks ties the album together with offbeat spoken-word narratives. And while I really appreciate the difficulty of creating a concept record that succeeds in telling a complete story, some of Parks' poems play a little hokey. Worse, Wilson's recitations of them are low-energy affairs, and amazing tunes like “California Role" and “Oxygen to the Brain" don't need bookends and filler. But, Wilson's singing voice is in fine form, much stronger and more confident than on SmiLE.
If I have a complaint, it would be the end of the album. “Southern California" is a fine song and ties the story together nicely, but it's hardly the strongest song to encore with, especially not after the well-oiled rave-up “Going Home." Far and away one of Wilson's beefiest rockers in his entire canon, “Going Home" epitomizes the album and slams it home.
The bonus DVD proves that Brian is a punk at heart, in the Bob Dylan/DIY sense of the word. The perfectionist of Pet Sounds remains, but most of these incredibly unique and complicated pieces come from raw takes, which really says something for his collaborators Scott Bennett and Darian Sahahnaja. These ambitious rock symphonies bang around the walls of Wilson's cranium, he does his best to communicate them, and his insanely talented band translates them. Stunning. Of all the artists who've heard songs in their heads, Wilson might be the most successful at committing them perfectly to tape. (Note to superfans - listen up for the brief appearance of the Wild Honey outtake “Can't Wait Too Long" welded onto the coda of “Oxygen.")
Listen intently, and then when it's done, play it again. This time, remember That Lucky Old Sun is all from one guy's head. A guy, who, for 30 years was just another great, lost genius. Now he's back, and ho ho ho is he back, baby.
