beach boys - good vibrations

http://youtube.com/watch?v=3QCZ_bv9aLc&feature=related

The Beach Boys - Don't Worry Baby

This brings back Memories.

But in truth, it wasn't that Dennis was the untalented Wilson. It's just that he was a very different Wilson, a Wilson whose gruff, gravelly voice and melancholic disposition made him a bit of an outcast in his own band, but whose vision and ambition on his lone solo album, Pacific Ocean Blue, rival those even of brother Brian, albeit in a very different and very subtle way.

Heralded as an essential new voice when the album released, Wilson made it clear on every note of his solo debut that he wasn't about to ride his brother's coattails to success. Anyone who thinks Pet Sounds is the last word in pop needs to think again; Dennis' album couldn't be more different from that seminal recording without belonging to some other genre completely. And it's not just because his album, like Wilson's Smile or Pet Sounds itself, is very much a cohesive piece, a romantic and sophisticated work in which songs ebb and flow into each other to create a tapestry-- an ocean, as it were-- of sound, a seamless suite that works best when taken as a whole. Nor is it that his music, though sonically inspired by jazz and occasionally breaking forth into rapturous bursts of horns, is largely very subdued, reflective, meditative, approaching an almost hymn-like reverence at times. (And really, how else do you describe the angelic choir of harmonies that opens the album on "River Song"?)

No, what really makes this the work of a visionary artist-- an artist who is not untalented, but, rather, too talented and luminary to be a part of a band-- is the songwriting, more personal and raw than anything Brian ever recorded. Pacific Ocean Blue is the sound of a Wilson laying all his fears and insecurities, his bruised and beaten heart, out on the table for all the world to see. And no wonder he had insecurities-- this is the guy who everyone assumed to be the untalented Wilson, getting by on the success of his brothers and bandmates! But the strength of his confessions on this album make it clear that he was a fine songwriter in his own right. There's an ominous mood that permeates the album, manifest most vividly on the environmental concerns expressed in "River Song" and "Pacific Ocean Blues," but also heard in Wilson's admissions that filling his heart with rock and roll has only let him empty, lonely and afraid. It's spiritual, soul-searching stuff that's every bit as open and honest-- almost to the point of being voyeuristic-- as that other classic of California pop from the same era, Fleetwood Mac's Rumors.

And if that doesn't convince you that Wilson's drowning shortly after the album released was a tragedy, the re-release of the album certainly will, for it contains an entire disc of demos from the album's intended follow-up, Bambu. Wilson spoke of wanting to make an album even more substantive and deep than Pacific Ocean Blue, and, by all accounts, he was well on his way; the Bambu tracks featured here reveal a much more ambiitous and complex album, one that covers more ground and incorporates a wider range of humor and emotion into its songs. It's a compelling collection of unfinished business from an artist who was taken from us just as he was starting to get going-- an artist who, with this two-disc set, is only now beginning to receive the claim and amass the legacy he has so long deserved.

Let me get this over with: Yes I grew up in Southern California. Yes I loved the Beach Boys. And yes,  I was a serious skateboarder until my freshman year of high school.

I also surfed. Once. I stood up on the board once. Briefly.

Then it came out of the waves like a torpedo and hit me in the head. No more surfing.

But here are the Beach Boys with Surfin' USA.   A rip-off of Chuck Berry's Sweet Little Sixteen. But an anthem even to a wannabe who could only claim one smack in the head. Truly the essence of cool in 1963 Southern California.

Did you know that we skateboarders also had an anthem?  It was called Sidewalk Surfin' by Jan and Dean. Any of my incoming students this fall are welcome to ask to see the scar on my left forearm from a truly  nasty fall on my friend Ricky's long, smooth, concrete driveway.

Back next week.

Puesto número 10.

John Lennon. Imagine.

Puesto número 9.

The Beatles. Hey Jude.

Puesto número 8.

The Beach Boys. Good Vibrations.

Puesto número 7.

The Doors. Light My Fire.

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Puesto número 6.

The Eagles. Hotel California.

Como lo prometido es deuda, aquí va mi alegato pro-Beach Boys. Aitor, tienes toda la razón en llamarlos horteras; no hay más que ver cómo vestían, cómo se peinaban y cómo se desenvolvían en el escenario. Lo mismo que los Beatles, los primeros Rolling y cualquier grupo de pop o rock de raza blanca creado antes de 1967. Y sus letras no se parecen a las de Dylan, ni mucho menos.

La música de este grupo tiene dos vertientes: la surfera y la melancólica de atardecer. No hay más registros (el "Pet Sounds" es un caso aparte, no es de este mundo). Pero dentro de estos dos son los verdaderos amos y señores no sólo en su época sino hasta ahora. Si a cualquier persona le preguntan a bote pronto qué canción define mejor California o el surf (y si no contamos como válida la entrada de "Los vigilantes de la playa") todas serán de este grupo: "Surfin' USA", "Surfin' safari", "I get around", "Barbara Ann", ...

La originalidad es un don que desgraciadamente no abunda, ni en la música ni en nada en esta vida. Y los Beach Boys son un estilo registrado, algo así como la Coca Cola. Brian Wilson, aparte de haber sido un drogadicto esquizofrénico, es uno de los mayores genios de la música contemporánea. Sólo por el Lp "Pet Sounds" se le debería canonizar, y "Good vibrations" es el mejor ejemplo de un virtuosismo compositivo que nada tiene que envidiar a NINGÚN compositor de los últimos 50 años. Y qué decir de las interpretaciones corales de la banda.

Dentro de las que yo llamo sus "canciones melancólicas de atardecer" se esconden sensaciones reales, es música que realmente te hace imaginar una playa tropical a punto de caer el sol y te hace captar esa extraña pesadez que tiene el paso del tiempo cuando el calor y la humedad son sofocantes. Son mis preferidas de su repertorio, y en mí tienen efecto sedante (cosa que a veces necesito bastante). Pondría 20 ó 30 en este mismo post, pero si me tengo que decidir por una quizá sea "The warmth of the sun"; sintiéndome mal por no elegir "Don't worry baby", "In my room", "You're so good to me", "Why do fools fall in love", .... la lista sería interminable.

What good is the dawn
That grows into day
The sunset at night
Or living this way

I loved like the warmth of the sun
(Warmth of the sun)
It won't ever die
(It won't ever die)

Puesto número 80.

James Taylor. Fire and rain.

Puesto número 79.

The Beatles. A hard days' night.

Puesto número 78.

Carl Perkins. Blue suede shoes.

Puesto número 77.

Eddie Cochran. Summertime blues.

Puesto número 76.

The Beach Boys. California girls.

And yet, there is no way to get around gushing about the pure wonder of this album. If the object of art is to move us toward emotions, even to evoke certain emotions independently of our own experiences, this album is art at its finest. The beauty of the arrangements and harmonies are simply out of this world, the happiness and sadness conveyed wondrous.

"Caroline, No", "God Only Knows", and "Don't Talk (Put Your Head on My Shoulder) get me misty just thinking about them. If you have ever listened to an artist or an album so much that you can go through it in about three minutes, you can relate. And the rest are just as good. So go, if you don't own this album, get it, listen to it. If it doesn't appeal to you now, come back in a year or two years. It will.

Pet Sounds at amazon.com

Actually, I was here to go to a wedding (see I'm Going To California),  but I was still curious to see how Californians, with their wondrous skewed materialism and idealism all slushed together, were facing peak oil.  The cost of housing has driven folk right out to the outer outer suburbs. Towns that used to be artichoke centers or desert spas are full of new subdivisions and professionals who drive 85 miles to work every morning. That's the distance between San Francisco and Stockton, once an affordable community for San Francisco wannabes who couldn't afford to buy there.  Or it was popular until their mortgage balloon payments called the game.

Unemployed writer and ponderer that I am, I can afford to sneer, but I don't.  We're all stuck in this shit, one way or the other.

Patrushka and I grabbed BART to downtown San Francisco - where you can rent a car for half the price at the airport, and off we buzzed towards the great Beach Boys California to the south.  Good Vibrations, here we come.

The Eyesore Freeway as far as Gilroy is still crammed with giant SUVs hitting 80 miles an hour on their way to somewhere dead important before it's too late, leaving the Pondering Pig in his rental Dodge Caliber inhaling their carbon dust.  $4.85 a gallon?  Pigeon feed.  I got lunch with Steve Jobs.  Let's roll!

There's next to no clunkers on the road, so maybe the $4.85 a gallon has affected the beatniks, layabouts, and other troublemakers who know how to enjoy the coast, but now that I think about it - there never were many clunkers on the Eyesore - this piece of Highway 101 is in the land of big salaries and young cats with two Mercedes and a Hummer in their three car garages.  OK, there's still the odd gardener burning oil down the Eyesore on his way to the next job, but that cat's driving a gas-conscious 60.

Me too.  This rental car has cruise control, we got the time and I want to look around.

Gad, I hate to write this.  But I am sworn to the truth, no matter how much it costs: the California coast in July is just as beautiful, just as near perfect as it ever was, even looking out a Caliber car window.  Oh man, why didn't I rent that white Mustang convertible instead?  I need the top down to watch the wind tousling my baby's hair.  As soon as we hit the eucalyptus groves north of Salinas, the years melted away, my hair grew out down over my shoulders, the pounds melted off and I popped a Coca-Cola, the kind with sugar. And Patrushka, my gosh, she looks fab in that bikini next to me, just like she did when I first fell in love with her in the spring of 1969.

Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray it might come true
Baby, then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do -
We could be married!
And then we'd be happy!
Wouldn't it be nice?

We stopped for lunch in Pismo Beach.  Is this guy still selling these things?

You know what?  I sat down to write a nice self-righteous diatribe against people still living a sybarite lifestyle with the apocalypse nearly upon us - but damn it, this is California and the myth is just too big to see over. I'm getting those good vibrations!  I can't raise up the required sourpuss-ness.

Say, isn't that the curve where James Dean bought it in his Porsche Spyder one  afternoon in 1955?  And isn't that Dead Man's Curve, that place you won't come back from?  And look, isn't that where that guy in the black denim trousers and motorcycle boots and a black leather jacket with an eagle on the back bought it on the railroad tracks?  And, my gosh, that's exactly where Brian Wilson's girl made him come alive, made him want to drive in Don't Worry, Baby!  Hey Patrushka, stop slathering yourself with Sea 'N Ski.  Let's roll!  We got a wedding in Santa Barbara!

Pound for pound, Bobby Fuller's remarkable output could stack up against any of his peers even though it was cut tragically short after just two years. Songs like "I Fought The Law," "Let Her Dance," and "Another Sad and Lonely Night" are just a few of his classic rock 'n roll recordings that have either been covered by major artists or cited as major influences. Growing up, Fuller idolized fellow Texan, Buddy Holly, and at an early age decided he wanted to be an rock 'n roll singer as well. Starting in the early '60s, Fuller began to make a name for himself in the El Paso area clubs, and by 1964, he was living in Los Angeles, chasing his dreams. It was while in Los Angeles, he formed the Bobby Fuller Four and convinced legendary producer Bob Keane to sign them to Mustang Records. Keane's other claim to fame was discovering a young Ritchie Valens. With a sound that was equal parts Buddy Holly, Tex Mex, the Beatles, the Beach Boys, Elvis, Little Richard and the Ventures, Fuller began putting out such instant hit records as "Let Her Dance," "Love's Made A Fool Of You," and of course, the great "I Fought the Law." And then, almost as quickly as it started, it all came to a tragic and mysterious end. In what the incompetent police ruled a "suicide," Fuller was found with multiple wounds to his body, covered in gasoline, and left for dead in a parked car outside his apartment. The scene, not only unsecured by police, was never dusted for fingerprints. Fuller's mother claimed that the police told her that he had been dead for two hours, even though she had been with him just 30 minutes prior. And one witness even came forward claiming they saw a police officer discard a gas can into a nearby dumpster. But the case was never solved. Many speculate that the perpetrators fled the scene before they were able to burn the car and body. And adding to the mystery, the LAPD case files remain lost to this day. A 2002 novel entitled The Dead Circus by John Kaye further fuels the fire by including a "fictional" subplot that has Frank Sinatra ordering the hit on Fuller because he did not like him dating his daughter.

Hands up who likes the Beach Boys? Me too (with the exception of Cocamo "Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna. take ya, Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama" - I mean, dear God, stop please stop!)

Somewhere, someone may have written a Beach Boys review without mentioning the word harmonies, although i doubt it. But that's fine, they've nailed some of the most sublime ones out there.

But there are bands that haven't. Yet lazy reviewers just can't help themselves. Oooo a harmony, must pay homage to the great God Wilson and his band of merry and eventually beardy men. 

So can I introduce Fleet Foxes, recommended to me by my friend Beth.

"While many young musicians who are admirers of The Beach Boys, Joni Mitchell, Simon & Garfunkel et al succumb to pastiche, Pecknold is able to distil such influences into something related but fresh." - The Independent

"Of their contemporaries only the enigmatic Midlake and My Morning Jacket at their most fragile come close, but neither could have cooked up the Beach Boys spiritual of White Winter Hymnal" - Amazon

"Fleet Foxes, a five-piece from near Washington, are like The Beach Boys if they were a folk band" - The Guardian

"Fleet Foxes owe a lot to Brian Wilson" - Wireless Bollinger 

In fact, sod it, just type in 'fleet foxes beach boys' in to Google and let the results flood in!

That most of these reviews are tied to the second track on the album 'White Winter Hymnal', just makes it more annoying - listen to the whole bloody thing before writing a half-arsed comparison.

To be fair, some people put a bit more effort in and avoided the obvious and names like Fleetwood Mac and Crosby Stills and Nash cropped up, but don't let that put you off.

Because to answer the question bursting out of you right now, are they any good? Too damn right they are. If you can break through your own cynicism and give yourself up to feelings of untainted happiness.

If you do one thing today it's this. Click on the link below:

http://www.myspace.com/fleetfoxes

then choose the track 'Tiger Mountain Peasant Song', close your eyes and picture yourself walking through an English wood, in the simple garments, sun through trees and all that, no one else to trouble your journey, because you're in the wilderness and only a deer may disturb you. Ahhhh, happiness. Whisper it to yourself...the f word...

Folk.

It's part of us all, just let go and embrace it. And once you do you'll love the whole album.

Recommended for:

Vicki HF - You've got the style for it

Andrew T - Not quite accordion material, but one to play on the tour bus

Steer clear:

Paul - Not for fighter pilots, I dread to think what would happen to you if your fellow officers heard you playing this.

James F - ditto property developers

download :.: mediafire :.: gravity’s : el caset ochenta y seis

éste se nos estaba quedando atorado entre los papeles, las fotos antrosas, las despedidas, las bienvenidas y unos tragos extrañísimos que nos tomamos en casa del equis, con el loco como dj (!!!; no, en serio: !!!), y culminaron con la destrucción de una mesa venerable ante la mirada inmóvil de alfred hitchcock. juro que no es mentira. un tape desechable para el principio del fin de semana; que es hoy, ¿no?

01 . jimmy stewart :.: i’ll lazo the moon
02 . eastwest :.: psychedelic disco
03 . the beach boys :.: surfer girl (johnatron rmx)
04 . rubisnkee :.: ochenta y seis
05 . felix da housecat :.: radio (shinichi osawa rmx)
06 . estelle/kanye west :.: american boy (nadastrom rmx)
07 . nsm psm :.: clap your brains off (say hooo! rmx)
08 . backstreet boys (repetimos: en serio!!) :.: everybody (headshotboyz rmx)
09 . beastie boys :.: open letter to nyc (coin operated boy rmx)
10 . télépathique :.: eu gosto

download :.: mediafire :.: gravity’s : el caset ochenta y seis

{hat tips: knfort records, fat planet, the disco workout}

So, Los Angeles has approved the building of a new development near the almost iconic Capitol Records building. The condo development, planned for 6230 Yucca Boulevard, was part of some big hubbub earlier this summer. EMI--along with the everpresent Hollywood preservationists--worried that the act of constructing the building, including the planned underground parking garage, would damage the acoustics know for their "Magic Properties."

The developer, Second Street Ventures, agreed to a number of excentric construction conditions not unlike the ones requested by some of the artists who record at the building when performing live.

- First, construction equipment and construction itself will be forbidden after 10 a.m. within 40 feet of the property line in order to make sure any ongoing recording sessions would not be interrupted.

- Second, alternative measures to steel-tracked construction equipment will be put into place.

- Third, there will be a sound baffle that uses a foam liner that will be erected between the property line of Capitol Records and this new underground garage, which will ensure that the echo chambers adjacent to the recording studios are not damaged.

- And finally, seven bottles of Cristal--preferably the 1996 vintage-- and only Green Peanut M&Ms to be placed in their green rooms.
Capital's underground studios have been noted for their "natural reverb." The magical music banks have hosted some very legendary recordings from the likes of Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole as well as The Beach Boys and Green Day.

I wrote that nearly a month ago, after the hype surrounding the new Fleet Foxes and Beach House records. Hoping it was a phase and nothing to get overly excited about, I saved it to my drafts. But after reviewing this week's Canadian college music chart, I discovered a band from Calgary called Women, and -- alas! -- the lo-fi, lazy movement continues with surprising strength...you know...because the music is so sluggish...where would they get the energy...oh, forget it.

Now, I understand the appeal: aren't we tired of the bombastic, excitable baroque-pop that nearly makes us want to dance (but of course we would never really dance because we are too cool for dancing)? Could we perhaps non-dance to something other than that overwrought "meatslicer" beat? Wouldn't we rather just take a huge break from this complicated "indie" thing? Well, I'd like to. I've renounced indie before...but I do not necessarily condone this new business that's going on. My problem is that I've heard it all before. I've listened to Pet Sounds and that Velvet Underground box set with the banana on the cover and everything by David Bowie and the Beatles and, well, shouldn't we be moving forward? I loved Dionne Warwick and Burt Bacharach, the "Wall of Sound" and the 60's. But what about onwards and upwards? With our songwriting and our production? References to the past are lovely and intriguing, but a band's entire thing being a reference to the past? Too quaint. Far too much so.

Well, I guess you could just shove this back into my face and tell me to go listen to Girl Talk and Crystal Castles. But I can't listen to that stuff because it has its own problems.

I suppose I am continuously trying to cope with our saturated modern musical climate. You know, I was a huge Elvis Costello fan in uni, and as fromaggio as he can be at times (Shipbuilding Good Year For the Roses, anyone?...Wotty, you win.) you'd be hard up to find talent like his anymore. It's few and far between, being a good songwriter and then presenter of those songs, both live and on record. I noticed that the Elvis Costello wiki classifies him in earnest as both punk rock and new wave. Nowadays if you'd see some new band classified the same way, their music would you'd probably make you want to: 1. vomit, then 2. commit suicide.

Maybe this new, mellow sound can be likened to the popularity of ambient music in the 90's with musicians like The Orb and Aphex Twin: everybody needed a break from all that serious, alternative stuff. In conclusion, The Besnard Lakes is to Bloc Party as Global Communication was to Nirvana.

Oggi: Howlin' Wolf: The Red Rooster [Audio "http://www.fulminiesaette.it/_uploads/musica/briciole/Red_Rooster.mp3"]

**********

Results from the first BCEW House event to be held at the newly christened BCEW Hall in Eagle Rock, Ohio.

Earl Fletcher will be the ring announcer for tonight’s BCEW Hall event.

Earl comes out and welcomes everyone to BCEW Hall. He then says, “ever been driving down the road in your car and pretended that you had a small laser mounted on the front of your car that shot birds out of the air and other animals along the side of the road?” He is met by a baffled silence. “Guess not. Let’s get to the action.”

Match #1- Little Paulie with Big Paulie of the American Bikers vs. “No Frills” Chris Escondido
Another classic match between long time adversaries. Back and forth for several minutes until the end. As usual, Little Paulie and Big Paulie start bickering and arguing about match strategy and the amount of time Little Paulie is taking to win the match. Escondido charges at Little Paulie. Little Paulie this time steps out of the way and Escondido blasts into Big Paulie. Big Paulie flies off the ring edge to the mat below. Little Paulie then rolls up Escondido from behind and gets the win.

Announcements & Shane “I’m So Damn Funny I Just Crack Up At My Own Jokes” Ghackerman
Earl Fletcher reads some announcements. Fletcher makes some oblique reference to Madonna and then follows up with this gem. “If I a-happen to walk by one of those collector’s items Dick Tracy action figures thingys- like Madonna as Breathless Mahoney- and just **happen** to peek under her dress, would that be a bad thing?” The sound of crickets chirping follow. “Right. Well, if you think that’s bad, here’s Shane ‘I’m So Damn Funny I Just Crack Up At My Own Jokes’ Ghackerman.”

Ghackerman starts off with: “You all hear the story about the guy who was attacked by a donkey? Yeah, the sheriff said it was the worse ASS-kicking he’d ever seen.” *rimshot* Groans. More groans.

“Okay,” he continues, “What did the lady say to the guy who kept showing up at her door with a stick of celery? Hey! Stop stalking me!” *rimshot* More groans. A couple titters. But mostly groans.

“Got another one. What do you go through when you give up eating celery? Deceleration.” *rimshot* More groans. A ‘you suck.’

Actually, lots of ‘you sucks.’

“Right. Just say no to snorting Coke. It’s not good for you and the carbonation burns the hell out of the inside of your nose.” *rimshot* “Get it? Coke? The pop? Inside your nose? BHWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-urk…

Thankfully, Fletcher yanks Ghackerman out of the ring before he starts a full fledged riot.

Snott Flemmstein and Annoying Cell Phone Guy enjoy dinner at one of the back tables of the BCEW Hall. Everything goes well until Cell Phone Guy starts to get calls on his cell phone. Flemmstein slowly gets pissed off as Cell Phone Guy spends the next few minutes gabbing away. Finally, Flemmstein has enough and leaps across the table. The cell phone flies out of Cell Phone Guy’s hand. The two roll around on the ground. A referee suddenly shows up and we’ve got ourselves an impromptu match.

Match #2- Snott Flemmstein vs. Annoying Cell Phone Guy
This was doesn’t make into the ring. A couple minutes of action before Flemmstein shoots out the ol’ green ‘snot’ from his prosthetically enhanced nose and coats Cell Phone Guy again. The referee quickly counts 1-2-3 and the match is Flemmsteins.

Earl Fletcher introduces the Black Swamp Pirates who come out and play their new country song American Elitist.

“Hey Green Day,” said the band’s lead singer Junior Jackson, hoisting his middle finger high in the air, “I’ve got your #$#$ing redneck agenda right here!” The band starts to play…

Match #3- The Raving Rednecks Locke and Loade vs. The Dixie Chucks Chuck-artie and Chuck-mily
The match of the night. Lots of false finishes. Locke and Loade went for the Redneck 4-D Death Blast but Chuck-mily countered with a drop kick and Chuck-artie clobbered Locke from behind.. Locke somehow makes it to the rope. At one point Chuck-artie hits 5 German suplexes in a row. Eventually Chuck-mily was placed in the Redneck 4-D Death Blast and taken out of commission. Then both Locke and Loade attack Chuck-artie and end up laying him out. 1-2-3. Winner-Locke and Loade.

BCEW Romey: “All right, I guess you’ve all heard by now that Mike Love of the Beach Boys filed suit against Brian Wilson for among other things, “misappropriating the trademark of the Beach Boys. Save it clones, I know what you’re going to say. “He’s been doing that for the past 10 years.” I get that. I get the fact that many of you consider him to be an attention starved, sue-happy crybaby. I get that. I get the fact that many of you are bent over how Mike turned the Beach Boys induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame into a night that will live in rock infamy. I get that, too.

“But what caught my attention was the phrase “the misappropriation of Mike Love’s songs.” Oh? What the hell is that? Did Brian misappropriate “Sumahama?” “Summer of Love?” Freakin’ “Kokomo?” No? Oh I get it. Lest we all forget that Mike Love is the guy who was inducted into the Songwriter’s Hall of Fame- no wait, that was Brian Wilson. We all know that Mike Love is the one who won a Grammy for his solo album- wait, that was Brian Wilson too. And of course, how could we forget the tribute show to Mike Love a few years ago- oh wait, that was Brian freakin’ Wilson.

Hey Wall Street Journal, you won’t defeat us

“We’re going to do it for World Peace and Love and Harmony. By insulting the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Bruce Springsteen. Yeah Mike. That was a proud moment for the group. You, at the dais, calling out rock stars all in the name of World Peace, Love, and Harmony. I don’t know Mike. Perhaps the reason that Mick Jagger or Bruce Springsteen or Billy Joel won’t play with you is because they think that you’re the biggest jerk in rock music. Maybe you should, oh I don’t know, SUE them too for not wanting to share the same stage with you. That rant pretty much sums up the bug up Mike’s AAAHHH-SS over his perception that he’s not and never has been given his due. And that’s the real reason Mike Love is so bent, so bitter. The fact is that Brian Wilson gets more attention out of playing a handful of shows a year than he does playing hundreds of shows. Mike is bent because Brian Wilson releases three, count em, THREE solo CD’s over the past two years and he can’t get his own solo CD out. Mike is bitter because Brian Wilson is considered to be one of the most influential and pivotal figures in rock history while he’ll be known for being a cranky old, litigation-happy man who prances around the stage, walks like grandma while singing The Little Old Lady From Pasadena, and tells the same, corny, cheesy jokes at every show. It’s not bad enough that the Lovester tried to rewrite Beach Boys history in that ABC movie, he’s now trying to rewrite the history of Smile- “the misappropriation of Mike Love’s songs??” Give me a freakin’ break!

“Here’s what really pisses Mike off- Brian Wilson has SCOREBOARD over Mike Love and he always will.

“As always, I’ve got your emails here on the subject.

“I feel bad for Mike Love and the respect and stature he craves in the rock world. In fact, I feel so bad that I think we should organize a benefit concert for him. Let’s call it ‘Rock Against Mike Love.’ They’ll be a giant picture of Mike with a red circle and slash through it at the top of the stage. We’ll bring in celebrities who will do testimonials and ask for monetary donations. I figure we can raise enough money to send Mike to his own personal Elba somewhere out in the middle of the ocean out in the middle of nowhere where we won’t have to watch him prance across the stage, pretend he’s a grandma, or listen to some cheesy jokes from his piehole ever again. And maybe, just maybe, there he’ll finally get the respect and stature he deserves.”

At that moment, a guy wearing a hawaiian shirt and a ball cap jumps into the ring. “Who the hell are you?” BCEW Romey asks. “I’m Beach Guy Mike Louvre. I will not stand for any more slander against the heart, the soul, the true creative genius of the Beach Boys- Mike Love.” The crowd starts to boo. “Oh you know it,” Louvre continues, “Mike Love is the Beach Boys! He’s the voice of the Beach Boys and been touring for decades as the front man of America's band. Mike Love kept the band alive while that no talent Brian Wilson stayed in bed. He’s on all of the band's hits and without Mike Love there would be no Beach Boys at all.” More boos. “So all you Brian Wilson apologists can just-” Suddenly, a commotion erupts and Buckland County Police Chief Nick Shavings, a fervently passionate Beach Boy and Brian Wilson fan, jumps into the ring and tasers Beach Guy Mike Louvre. The crowd gives him a standing ovation.

Then BCEW Romey aka Bubba Jackson sets up a table in the middle of the ring and both he and Chief Shavings powerbomb Louvre through the table.

And to add insult to injury, Louvre gets shot in the ass by Ol’ Man Hanson.

Next, BCEW Women’s Champion Candiloosa Ricearoni comes out and wishes everyone a happy Thanksgiving. Then she apologizes for not defending the BCEW Women’s Belt because “there’s no one worthy to wrestle me for it.” Ricearoni then mentions “The Domestic Diva” Martha Stewart who’s “still under house arrest and can’t be here.”

Suddenly, “The Domestic Diva” Martha Stewart, long itching to get her shot at the Women’s champion, rushes down the aisle with Billionaire Don Trump and a deputy sheriff. Stuart holds up a piece of paper with the order that released her from home detention. “Unlock the ankle bracelet!” she commands the deputy, “UNLOCK THE @#@#@$$ ANKLE BRACELET!” The deputy reads it and then unlocks the bracelet. We’ve got a match…

Match #4- BCEW Women’s Champion Candiloosa Ricearoni vs. “The Domestic Diva” Martha Stewart with Billionaire Don Trump
Stuart looked off and very rusty here compared to her usual robust self. Most of this match was a brawl around the building. Ricearoni, irate over the challenge and not expecting a strong effort from Stewart, attacked her with a steel-folding chair and then got ready to pin her. Billionaire Bob Trump came out for the save (and got a big pop). He clubbed Ricearoniaroni with his gold-plated briefcase. Stewart went to cover but then inexplicatively he also turned on Stewart and whacked her in the back with his briefcase. Then he stood over her and said, “YOU’RE FIRED!” and walked out of the ring.

Stewart, furious at Trump’s turn, is the first one up. “You can fire me!” she yells at Trump, “You can cancel my show. But I WILL be the next BCEW Women’s Champion and no one can keep me from my title.”

“That’s what you think,” Ricearoni says from behind. She rolls up Stewart and gets the pinfall to hold on to the title.

MIDLAKE: These guys are from Denton Texas and sing like birds and write timeless music. Only two releases, but they are both worth owning and playing over and over and over. (I know they have an earlier EP, I have it, skip it, they hadn't figured out who they were just yet and were a little too influenced by a certain all-time great 90s British band I didn't name earlier).

AUGIE MARCH: From Australia these guys write breathtaking great poetic Beatle-ish music that you can't dance to, but it gets under your skin and can make you weep for no reason.

GRIZZLY BEAR: a Brooklyn based band who play everything but the kitchen sink, kind of a twisted sideways experimental folk band with amazing harmonies. They have two full lengths and an EP. Best starting place, the second release Yellow House.

M. WARD: He doesn't really fit with my description of "being in jr. high" in the 90s (maybe the early 90s), but I couldn't resist. He's just special. Utterly unique in every way (playing wise as well as a vocally) M. Ward has been consistently great, sometimes his recordings sound they were made at a blues or folk hay ride circa 1948. All four of his full lengths are excellent and worth owning. If I had to pick one it would be his first one "End Of Amnesia." Indeed.

RUBY SUNS: New Zealander Ryan McPhun's little project, its got a whole lot of cool vibe, amazing arrangements, great beach boy-ish vocals AND originality too.

FLEET FOXES: obviously the newest on this list, these guys only have one release (and it just came out) (and an earlier EP I'm not familiar with) but its a real winner. I suppose the jury is still out as for the long run, but I'm a believer (at least so far).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r2v8cuQTVO8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KeThckstKNE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hAzBxFaio1I

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67ANtTZpCmE

After much soul-searching, however, I let down my guard and began to listen to the lyrics and music of today's top tunes. Perhaps if I gave it a chance, I hypothesized, I'd realize that the indie snobbery needed to come to an end, and I'd begin to embrace mainstream pop music for what it is: Light, airy, low on substance and not horribly offensive, if not mostly enjoyable -- sort of like cotton candy. Below are the findings from my so-called social experiment.

As it turns out, in my humble opinion, most of what is being played on this particular station continues to be crap, disproving my naively hopeful hypothesis. There are exceptions to every rule: Ne-Yo, a producer and performer who has worked closely penning hits for names like Beyonce and Rihanna, has a fantastically danceable song out right now ["Closer"], though it is on the verge of relentless overplay. This particular station has also caught wind of overseas talent providing a breath of fresh air to the status quo -- both Duffy and Estelle are gaining airplay for their singles "Mercy" and "American Boy." I also, as much as this pains me to admit it, don't entirely mind the latest John Mayer single, "Say."

Beyond these few gems, however, pickings are slim. It's not even that much of the music is lacking in quality and originality, a legitimate organic energy that does not feel overproduced [though all of these things are true]. Music, as I've said before, can and does carry a lot of power, particularly when placed in a mass medium. Much of today's popular music simply does not advance public discourse -- in fact, in some cases, lyrical content may be doing much more harm than we know.

Take, for example, the surprise current #1 song, "I Kissed a Girl" by up-and-coming performer (and former gospel singer) Katy Perry. Perry has been lauded by many for her candid openness about kissing another woman, and this is perceived as promoting and supporting diversity and tolerance.

"No, I don't even know your name
It doesn't matter
You're my experimental game
Just human nature
It's not what, good girls do
Not how they should behave"

Instead of providing a positive media portrayal of a lesbian relationship, Perry chose to speak of kissing a woman in a way that was dehumanizing and states that the action is not what girls "should" do. This song's portrayal of the LGBT community, in effect, perpetuates the Tila Tequila fallacy of what it means to be queer, which produces many harmful side effects, whether or not they were intended by Perry.

Perry's song is just one of many radio songs that perpetuate far-than-ideal stereotypes and assumptions, as far as social justice is concerned. "When I Grow Up" by the Pussycat Dolls feeds the notion that many of today's social networking-obsessed youth also have unreasonable expectations of becoming famous one day. Other songs continue to utilize terminology that is degrading to women and perpetuate sexist ideology.

All of that said, perhaps I'm taking this all a bit too seriously. The sixties -- the days of the Beatles, Beach Boys and "good vibrations" -- are long over and today's market is completely different, catering to youth that have grown up surrounded by technology in a media environment that is constantly changing, so maybe I should cut the already-suffering industry a little slack. But then again, that wouldn't be very snobby of me to do, now would it?

- Joe Erbentraut, True Endeavors Communications and Public Relations Intern

Summer's rockin' along and so are the theme songs ... also included are a couple that didn't make the cut on the Fourth of July.   Thanks to our L.A. correspondent Randy Fuller for most of these.  It's all good. 

MP3: "The Sweet Sounds of Summer" by the Shangri Las

MP3: "Summertime" by Mongo Santamaria

MP3: "Summertime Blues" by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

MP3: "Fourth of July" by Robert Earl Keen

MP3: "4th of July" (demo) by X

MP3: "Wild Wild Waves" by the Tormentos

MP3: "A Little Samba" by Ugly Duckling

MP3: "Good Old Summertime" by Lee Diamond

MP3: "Texas Girls In The Summer" by 3 Four

MP3: "The Surfer Moon" by the Beach Boys

MP3: "California Dreamin'" by John Phillips

I thought it was going to be a dark comedy.  Wrong.  It was a very intense and sad drama, and I cried and cried and cried at the end.  It was powerful, believable and left me with a sense of everything is all right with the world, that we're here for now, and we all have our own hurtles to overcome.  It reminded me to take some couple time and some me time, because you never know when your hour glass will run out. 

One of my writer epals and the ladies at the OB/GYN last week had recommended this movie.  I'll third it.  Everyone needs to see this film, and make your own bucket list, and get 'er done.

Here are a few things for my bucket list:

Visit Southern California

Visit Europe

Keep writing better books

Obtain representation from a top literary agent

Go on a book tour

Spend a romantic weekend with my husband

Jump into something meaningful to my son and make it a memorable time for him.

Jump into something meaningful to my daughter and make it a memborable time for her.

Declutter the office closet.

See another Bee Gees concert.

See the Beach Boys live in concert.

Go Gibbing again with my Bee Gees pals.

Do something to touch a stranger's life for the better.

Make a new friend.

Be a better friend.

Visit Hawaii

Visit Alaska

The quintessential Sailing Song with Hard Tack (SSwHT)...

Whether you like him or loathe him, I bet you know at the very least the chorus of the modern boating national anthem.  Buffett is a master of the story lyric and his boating theme songs are rich and often more emotional then the blender tune.

A Pirate Looks at 40 is a a miracle of self awareness and and yearning.  The opening stanzas capture the universal draw that most boating types feel for the sea.   The lazy lingering melody rock the listener into the same lazy comfortable zone as the main protagonist of the song.  It truly is a brilliant song.

Son Of A Son Of A Sailor, plays with themes of freedom through the adventure and hard work of sailing.  Exotic sites of far off lands make the hard work mentioned in the chorus worth the toil.  This tune really follows the tenants of sea chanties closely yet within it's structure you see youth and generations of tradition all at the same time.

Lastly, Sea Chanties traditionally have a call and response format.  The Chanter calls and the sailors respond.  FINS, follows this format closely and it is a blast when you are sitting in an arena and everyone is to the left and to the right.

Jimmy Buffett isn't the only modern musician who has created SSwHT.  Although, this duo is included mostly in the Yacht Rock group, Loggins and Messina's Vahevala is too rocking and recorded too soon to be labeled as such.

Switching Gears...The Beach Boys on Pet Sounds offered the ironic sailing song with Sloop John B.  The original song; the Wreck of the Sloop John B follows the tradition of telling tales of the demise of mighty vessels.

Wilson added the harmonic complexity to the melody that removes the traditional folk three chord structure.  In addition, Wilson added the voyagers perspective with modern lingo "I feel so broke up" & "this is the worst trip I've ever been on."

Tom Waits can be an acquired taste.  His Shiver Me Timbers though is worth leaving your perceptions by the wayside.  It is full of angst and longing in a true folkloric fashion.

Randy Newman hardly needs an introduction. Sail Away is a searing take on american salesmanship. The songs protagonist is a salesman selling the dream of America to would be slaves on the shores of Africa.  Newman, is blunt with his lyrics but he calls 'em like he sees 'em because he loves this country.

The Irish punk band, The Pogues offers a fairly traditional take on Navigator.

Lastly, CSN's Southern Cross, plays with the imagery of finding your way by the stars.  Lost love, navigation and hope are front and center in this sweet sweet melody.

There are many many more songs, such as Toots and the Maytals "Sailing On", or Louis Prima's "BarnacleBill" that I wish I could have included here, but time and youtube prevent me.

Can you provide any that I have not named?

ETA: KARMARDAV you are so right.  Gordon Lightfoot's "Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" Is the essence of a Sailing Song with Hard Tack!

'Beach Boys' was one of the earliest doramas that I watched and to-date, it's one of the doramas that I remember and enjoyed best. It of course helped to have a headline cast of a devilishly mischievous Sorimachi Takashi and the drop-dead gorgeous Takenouchi Yutaka, latter of whom I still see as THE most handsome Japanese man alive (sorry Takuya...).

That said, 'Beach Boys' scores on the presence of a simple storyline, good pacing and an excellent soundtrack. That would be minus the theme song to the dorama coz the song was very obviously out of Sorimachi's range, but that is another story for another day.

Hiromi (Sorimachi) is thrown out of his girlfriend's apartment when she gets sick of his freeloading off her. With only JPY900 to his name, Hiromi decides to head for the beach in his junky old jalopy of a car since it is... well... summer and therefore beach season!

Kaitou (Takenouchi), on the other hand, is a high-flyer in a multinational corporation who falls into dejection because a mistake on his part has screwed up a deal which he was handling. Kaitou decides to go on extended leave and after some though decides to seek some peace and solitude in the arms of Mother Nature. So where does he go? To the beach of course!

Then comes my all-time favourite scene. Prim and proper Kaitou is on the way towards the coast in a train when he spots Hiromi and jalopy travelling on a road which is parallel to the train tracks. Kaitou then decides that this a competition of 'him in train' vs 'junky white jalopy on the road'. And as fate (and junky jalopies) would have it, the rickety car runs out of gas so Kaitou 'wins' the 'race'. He jumps up elated and rams his head into the overhead baggage compartment (haha!).

Kaitou soon gets his comeuppance though when he passes Hiromi, who is pushing his petroless car along the road, in a cab and somehow feels guilty about having 'caused' the car to stall. So Kaitou alights from his cab and goes help Hiromi push only to end up getting thrown into the sea. I know what you are thinking. It is strange and it does not add up. But as to the whats and hows of it, you really just have to watch to get it. There is no fun whatsoever in my just telling you the nitty gritties of what happened.

What I can and will tell you though is that what transpires thereafter is the forgingof a bond of friendship between two very different individuals and how a regular urban dog learns to appreciate the benefits of just kicking off your shoes, sitting back and simply relaxing.

My rating for this dorama? : 5/5