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Essential Brian Wilson songs: 'God Only Knows,' 'Good Vibrations' and more


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The Beach Boys were Brian Wilson.

Sure, those ethereal harmonies and passed-around lead vocals might have had a host of names attached to them since the band's debut in the early 1960s, but it was really all anchored to the complex, troubled, inspired and otherworldly songwriting talent erupting from the shyest guy in the room.

To name five great Wilson songs is a bit like rounding up a quintet of Mozart concertos, Miles Davis compositions or, for that matter, Beatles songs. Wilson is the cat who, after all, caused the mighty Mop Tops to freak out upon hearing what many consider to be Wilson's masterwork, "Pet Sounds."

"'Pet Sounds' blew me out of the water," Paul McCartney said in an interview published with the 1997 release of the album's box set. "First of all, it was Brian's writing. I love the album so much. I’ve just bought my kids each a copy of it for their education in life. I figure no one is educated musically until they’ve heard that album."

The Beatles' of course had inspired Wilson to up his game. And so "Pet Sounds," released in 1966, in turn helped the Fab Four produce a year later nothing less than "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band."

If you need a place to start, we offer these six essential tracks to help you catch a Wilson wave:

'Surfin' U.S.A.' (1963)

This was the clarion shot from the southern California shores, an indelible Beach Boys classic that packs into its 2 minutes and 29 seconds an announcement of a great sound, the pitching of a great new sport and the promise of a West Coast idyll that persists to this day. The song is rightly on the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame's list of 500 Songs that Shaped Rock 'n' Roll, but there's a huge asterisk worth noting. The song was heavily inspired, to say the least, by Chuck Berry's "Sweet Little Sixteen" in terms of its meter and structure. So all hail to Berry as well as the way Wilson reinterpreted that song into a beach anthem.

'In My Room' (1963)

Wilson certainly blasted out all manner of infectious hits over the Beach Boys' early reign, including "California Girls." But "In My Room," out the same year as "Surfin' U.S.A.," not only reflects the musician's ability to create a profound musical mood but it also hinted at the personal torments that would come to haunt Wilson throughout his life, ones that found him in the control of doctors who were quacks and, for a spell, had him sequestered at home and composing on a piano placed in the middle of a room full of sand. It's hard to listen to "In My Room" and flash back on one's own youthful years and reflect on tough times when the only solace to be found was, in fact, in solitude.

'Good Vibrations' (1966)

Let start, and maybe end, with the theremin. The device is an electronic musical instrument created a century ago that produces eerie sounds through the manipulation of metal antennas. Think about those spooky sounds in old horror movies, that's a theremin. And that's why Wilson thought it would work well on "Good Vibrations," which to say the least you could call thinking outside the box. In fact, it was wholly typical of Wilson, who at this point had become not just enamored but totally obsessed with the studio recording process. That he would often keep his fellow Beach Boys sequestered for hours doing take after take is the stuff of legend, but the proof, as they say, is in the pudding. "Good Vibrations" conjures just that every time it's played to this day.

'Heroes and Villains' (1967)

No, "Heroes and Villains" isn't one of Wilson's most toe-tapping efforts. Far from it, the "suite" meanders through a range of sonic emotions like a short operetta in an attempt to top the massive success of "Good Vibrations" the year prior. Wilson, along with collaborator Van Dyke Parks, was intent on making a statement of sorts on "Heroes and Villains," moving away from surfing and cars and diving into the nation's tragic Native American experience. The song was part of Wilson's long-unfinished "Smile" project, and as such represents a genius grappling with existential personal and political questions that he was determined to infuse into a music that, to date, was mainly meant to entertain. Digging deep, Wilson showed the true fearlessness that accompanies most genius.

'Little Deuce Coupe' (1963)

Rewinding back to the beginning, there's not way to exclude from this list a Wilson paean to the automobile, which, perhaps like surfing, was, and to a great still is, the defining motif of Southern California life: Freedom on four wheels. "409" was all about a hot rod with a powerful edge, but for my money nothing quite conjures the true love some people have for their cars (guilty as charged) as "Little Deuce Coupe." It's the ultimately in anthropomorphizing, with the Beach Boys collectively singing the praises of a machine in a ditty that also accurately name checks the automotive world – "She's ported and relieved, and she's stroked and bored/She'll do a hundred and forty with the top end floored" – thanks to brother Dennis Wilson's passion for cars. Wilson sang: "She's my little deuce coupe/You don't know what I got." But Brian, we sure did know what you got.

'God Only Knows' (1966)

A cynic would say Wilson clearly sat down with the express intent to write a song that would be sung at weddings for the rest of time. After all, “God only knows what I’d be without you” is repeated endlessly towards the end of the ballad. But the power of the song, the element that helps it vault from a sappy refrain to a pure expression of committed love, is in fact Wilson’s voice. It is so plaintive and emotive and sincere that the listener is instantly transported into a cocoon of adulation that becomes nothing less than a wished-for ideal. Who wouldn’t want someone singing those words to them in that way? Importantly, however, Wilson isn’t simply singing to a paramour who he intends to be with forever. In fact, the song is presented from the point of view of someone who may well be dealing with unrequited love, which is of course the most heartbreaking kind of all.