Saturday
Nov042006
Pet Sounds
Saturday, November 4, 2006 at 03:31PM
She was so excited that she had figured out how to hide in the closet, but when the sliding door nicked the other foot right after the band-aid had gone on the first one, she couldn't handle it anymore. As I sat there and held her, in the realization that she (a) can stick her lower lip out beyond what I think is natural, and (b) her breath smelled like Cheerios, I knew what she needed.
She needed to hear Pet Sounds.
Pet Sounds is, of course, one of rock and roll's most legendary albums. It was the last Beach Boys record Brian Wilson made before he went crazy. It's the record that The Beatles made Sgt. Pepper's to try and top (and in their own words, failed). It's amazing.
I first heard it in New Orleans in 2000. The Normals were working with Malcolm Burn on what was to become Coming to Life. In the middle of a working day Malcolm made a reference to the album and I replied blankly: "I've never heard it."
After many profanities and utter disbelief, Malcolm told the band to take a break and said "Andy, come with me."
He took me over to the stereo in the other room. "Pull up a chair and sit down." I did. He disappeared for a minute and came back with a cd and a pair of headphones. "Here's what you're going to do. You're going to listen to this record. Then listen to it again. Then you can come back to work."
I listened to the record.
I listened again.
I went back to work.
And I have been forever grateful for that day. Pet Sounds is amazing. Fact. But what's just as amazing is that one guy created it. He forever changed the way recording studios work, the way people look at pop music. He took drums, guitars, pianos, orchestras and created something that had never been heard before. It's stunning that all of this could exist in one man's head, AND that he could actually create a whole new process to capture it on tape.
Listening now it really doesn't seem that amazing. We've heard a ton of music just like it. Well, not really. We've heard a ton of music that's tried to do it again. You have to listen in context. Realize that it was done on four tracks. FOUR TRACKS. It's more lush and full than just about anything that's been made before or since. At that point The Beatles were still pretty much just the four guys with their respective instruments. This inspired them to start working more with orchestra in a new and abstract way.
Brian used what's known as the "wall of sound" approach. They'd get four acoustic guitars, three electric bass players, two upright bass players, two or three pianos, six saxophones, four trumpets, etc... and they would all play at the same time to one track. There was no way to change it afterwards, so they would play it again and again and Brian would tell the Sax player #2 to move in eight inches and ask Bass Player #1 to use a different pick. Unreal. I've got a box set version that has some of this stuff recorded and it's a total mindtrip to hear him work.
The vocals were the same way. And they would layer and layer them. One track for the music, three for the vocals. Take that, ProTools. In the box set is a version of this record with the instrument track muted, so it's just the vocals. The arrangements would make a glee club cry and The Eagles want to jump out a window.
In time, though, like all things, I've gotten used to Pet Sounds. I've become familiar with the beautiful songs and the honest naivete of Brian's heart that is laid open through them.
But when I saw those crocodile tears of a sad little girl, I knew it was time. I carried her out to the living room, plugged up the iPod, and started at the very beginning (allegedly, a very good place to start...)
Wouldn't it be nice if we were older,
then we wouldn't have to wait so long...
Within seconds the tears were gone, Ella was clapping and waving her hands. I took the hand of a stuffed dog and Ella grabbed her constant CareBear companion and we danced.
I mean, it's the Beach Boys. Just because it's a classic doesn't mean it's not fun.
She needed to hear Pet Sounds.
Pet Sounds is, of course, one of rock and roll's most legendary albums. It was the last Beach Boys record Brian Wilson made before he went crazy. It's the record that The Beatles made Sgt. Pepper's to try and top (and in their own words, failed). It's amazing.
I first heard it in New Orleans in 2000. The Normals were working with Malcolm Burn on what was to become Coming to Life. In the middle of a working day Malcolm made a reference to the album and I replied blankly: "I've never heard it."
After many profanities and utter disbelief, Malcolm told the band to take a break and said "Andy, come with me."
He took me over to the stereo in the other room. "Pull up a chair and sit down." I did. He disappeared for a minute and came back with a cd and a pair of headphones. "Here's what you're going to do. You're going to listen to this record. Then listen to it again. Then you can come back to work."
I listened to the record.
I listened again.
I went back to work.
And I have been forever grateful for that day. Pet Sounds is amazing. Fact. But what's just as amazing is that one guy created it. He forever changed the way recording studios work, the way people look at pop music. He took drums, guitars, pianos, orchestras and created something that had never been heard before. It's stunning that all of this could exist in one man's head, AND that he could actually create a whole new process to capture it on tape.
Listening now it really doesn't seem that amazing. We've heard a ton of music just like it. Well, not really. We've heard a ton of music that's tried to do it again. You have to listen in context. Realize that it was done on four tracks. FOUR TRACKS. It's more lush and full than just about anything that's been made before or since. At that point The Beatles were still pretty much just the four guys with their respective instruments. This inspired them to start working more with orchestra in a new and abstract way.
Brian used what's known as the "wall of sound" approach. They'd get four acoustic guitars, three electric bass players, two upright bass players, two or three pianos, six saxophones, four trumpets, etc... and they would all play at the same time to one track. There was no way to change it afterwards, so they would play it again and again and Brian would tell the Sax player #2 to move in eight inches and ask Bass Player #1 to use a different pick. Unreal. I've got a box set version that has some of this stuff recorded and it's a total mindtrip to hear him work.
The vocals were the same way. And they would layer and layer them. One track for the music, three for the vocals. Take that, ProTools. In the box set is a version of this record with the instrument track muted, so it's just the vocals. The arrangements would make a glee club cry and The Eagles want to jump out a window.
In time, though, like all things, I've gotten used to Pet Sounds. I've become familiar with the beautiful songs and the honest naivete of Brian's heart that is laid open through them.
But when I saw those crocodile tears of a sad little girl, I knew it was time. I carried her out to the living room, plugged up the iPod, and started at the very beginning (allegedly, a very good place to start...)
Wouldn't it be nice if we were older,
then we wouldn't have to wait so long...
Within seconds the tears were gone, Ella was clapping and waving her hands. I took the hand of a stuffed dog and Ella grabbed her constant CareBear companion and we danced.
I mean, it's the Beach Boys. Just because it's a classic doesn't mean it's not fun.
