There's a historical marker on Interstate 105 in Hawthorne, California, in about the same spot that the Wilsons' childhood home once stood. That's Brian, Carl, and Dennis Wilson, who shared a bedroom into their teens and went on, with their cousin Mike Love and school friend Al Jardine (replaced for a time by David Marks), to form a band that's still cemented in the American consciousness 50 years later. Brian Wilson was the driving creative force in the band, taking his love of Chuck Berry, doo-wop and Phil Spector's widescreen L.A. pop sound, adding a large helping of his brother Dennis's surfing hobby and California car culture, and creating a sound all his own.
The evolution of that sound is on full display across the 16 discs of Capitol's new U.S. Singles Collection: The Capitol Years, which covers the group's 45 output from 1962 to mid-1965, oddly stopping in the middle of that year without including "She's Not the Little Girl I Once Knew" and "Barbara Ann". The box is available digitally, but the real draw for fans will be the limited-edition boxed set, which includes a book, 15 singles ,and one "bonus single," each on its own disc with a reproduction sleeve, plus 32 bonus tracks distributed across the set and mostly consisting of alternate stereo mixes. It's a lavish treatment-- definitely not carbon-neutral, but it does have the effect of turning back the clock a bit to a time when listeners had to engage more closely with records, physically changing the disc when the song was over.
Brian was 19 when the band formed in 1961 (as the Pendeltones) and just beginning to flex the songwriting and arranging muscles he'd developed in his childhood from watching his father Murray play piano and taking music classes in high school. Though a newly minted adult, he and his band set about building a musical monument to early 60s teen culture that had an odd resonance across the U.S. in spite of its focus on surfing and hot rods, which were very specific to California at the time. It was the soundtrack to the sort of endless summer that a kid in Minnesota or Connecticut could only dream of, and it was packed with enough detail to paint a vivid picture for record-buying kids who had never seen an ocean.
This set understandably doesn't include the band's debut single, "Surfin'", which was released on the independent X label in late 1961 and managed to hit #75. Instead, it begins with their major label debut, "Surfin Safari", backed with "409". It was a perfect kick-off, with the band's trademark harmonies setting up both of the band's early obsessions, surfing and fast cars. It's hardly a masterpiece, but the A-side is infectious and creates a perfect mental image of guys in trunks running across the sand with their boards, beach-attired girls behind them.
If you grew up in the 60s or around oldies radio in the decades that followed, you undoubtedly have "Fun, Fun, Fun, "Little Deuce Coupe", "I Get Around", "Shut Down", and "Surfin' USA" memorized, but in a lot of ways these songs don't even tell half the story. Even at the very beginning, you can hear Brian Wilson's creative restlessness shining through. The band's second Capitol single, "Ten Little Indians" b/w "County Fair", is certifiably awful on both sides, but "County Fair" makes interesting use of bullhorn-wielding carnies in its arrangement and offers an early hint at some of the uncertainty that would ultimately bubble up through Wilson's work as the girl he goes to the fair with leaves him with another guy, calling him a loser in the process.
The early slow songs show an amazingly mature compositional sense. "Surfer Girl", with a melody inspired by "When You Wish Upon a Star", is a wonderful waltz-time ballad that gives us a spine-tingling early taste of Mike Love's ability to handle slow songs with rich emotion. The song is full of pie-in-the-sky promises and self-conscious reality checks-the protagonist tentatively asks his love interest, "Do you love me?" "In My Room" leaves behind the surf and exhaust for quiet introspection-- it's hard to imagine a single teenager anywhere in America not being able to identify with wanting a space of one's own in which to brood over the day's drama.
The psychological dichotomy of the Beach Boys-- and more specifically Brian Wilson-- is most prominently on display on that 45: "In My Room" is the B-side of "Be True to Your School", a boastful account of athletic prowess and school spirit that also features an imaginative arrangement complete with cheerleaders. The backing tracks are handled by crack L.A. session players, whose skill gave Wilson wide latitude in his arrangements. Capitol includes an instrumental backing track for "I Get Around" a few discs later that is just astounding in its precision and complexity. That song's B-side, "Don't Worry Baby", was Wilson's attempt to capture the feel of the Ronettes' "Be My Baby", his favorite song. Led by his own falsetto vocal, what he wound up with has a different feel, but its sophistication and sweeping melody place it on par with its inspiration nonetheless.
By this point it was the middle of 1964 and the band was headed inexorably away from its roots and toward something more enduring and powerful. "She Knows Me Too Well" is a heartbreaking and exquisitely arranged song that has Love sifting through his relationship with his girlfriend and essentially finding that while he loves her, he's also a jerk who can't stop himself from hurting her with his roving eye. "The Warmth of the Sun" is another tremendous slow song, borrowing its slow 6/8 sway from some of the best doo-wop of the 50s but pointing the way toward Brian Wilson's most ambitious work.
In 1964, he was already experimenting with hand percussion, harps, tympanis and other ways to augment the band's sound, but it was at the end of the year, when he quit touring with the band following a nervous breakdown, that Wilson truly became free to expand on his ideas as he wanted to. He'd felt pressure from the British Invasion to innovate for over a year, and it's hard to argue against what he came up with. B-sides "Please Let Me Wonder" and "Kiss Me, Baby", neither of which charted, are both pretty enough to raise the hair on the back of your neck, but both were lost on the flip sides of mega-hits, the latter attached to "Help Me Rhonda," the band's second #1.
These discs chart an amazingly steady build-up to the final single they catalog, "California Girls" b/w "Let Him Run Wild". Though there will always be debate as to the worth of the A-side's lyrics, the music, a stately stomp that sets jaunty organ to dissonant horns, swinging bass and multiple tambourines, is undeniable. In July of 1965, it was a Technicolor re-affirmation of the endless summer, but don't forget the B-side. "Let Him Run Wild" is nearly as good and a clear sonic blueprint for Pet Sounds.
This box is an interesting look at the warts-and-all development of America's Band, though I hesitate to call it essential for anyone but the band's most dedicated and invested fans. Apart from a live version of "409" recorded in Chicago after Brian Wilson had stopped touring, all eight previously unreleased tracks are alternate mixes, so there are no major revelations. To that end, it's more the object that commands the price, and it is a very attractive object. For the more casual listener, though, there are plenty of other ways to obtain these singles.
