Album Review: The Phosphorescent Blues by Punch Brothers

Magically, I don’t even remember how, Punch Brothers’ album The Phosphorescent Blues (January 2015, Nonesuch) fell into my consciousness. I kind of remember seeing the album cover, and thinking that it was pretty interesting looking, though I am not sure if that was the first time I came into contact with the album. Whatever the circumstances, once I sat down to listen to The Phosphorescent Blues, I was truly awestruck.

I was only vaguely familiar with Punch Brothers before finding The Phosphorescent Blues, though I was a bit more cognizant of Chris Thile. Still, I wasn’t all that familiar with Thile’s old band, Nickel Creek; I knew of them, but that was about it. I haven’t really taken the time to listen to Punch Brothers’ back catalog, so I can’t really speak much to The Phosphorescent Blues’ placement within their œuvre, but if this album is any indication of what I would find, I really should find some time to listen.

(Some of ) The Pieces

The Phosphorescent Blues starts with a sweeping, ten-minute piece, called “Familiarity.” This one song sounds like five, changing tempos, grooves, keys, and overall affect at least half-a-dozen times. Except for the fact that “Familiarity’s” orchestra consists of mandolin, violin, banjo, acoustic guitar, and double bass, it sounds like something straight off of a Peter Gabriel-era Genesis album smashed together with Pet Sounds. I don’t care much for prog-rock, generally, but anything that even pretends to imitate Pet Sounds is bound to catch my attention. (Remember how I wrote my PhD dissertation on Brian Wilson?)

It seems like most bands with as many chops as Punch Brothers can’t resist the temptation to turn their music into nothing but a “shred fest” (hence, one of the reasons I am not so into prog-rock), but Punch Brothers largely avoids this. “Familiarity” comes with an abundance of virtuosic flair, but it is never simply virtuosity-for-virtuosity’s-sake.

One of my favorite moments in this song is when the band imitates a tape or digital-delay effect. The players hit a chord and repeat it precisely, dropping the volume each time. On the third repeat of this figure the banjo breaks form and plays a repetitive melody; on the fifth repeat the mandolin enters with an intricate muted rhythmic groove. Not much later, Thile et al. break into a gorgeous a cappella section, one that sounds somewhere between The Beach Boys and Palestrina. Really, it is stunning.

At 6:00, “Familiarity” turns into an entirely different song: a subdued ballad featuring Thile’s (mostly) solo vocals. After the first verse-chorus, there is a lovely, sensitive violin solo. The transition between this much slower, softer portion of the song and the wilder stuff before it happens via a nice, long, drowning reverb tail. But, I am not sure why this isn’t a separate piece altogether.

Another standout track is “I Blew It Off.” This one is probably the most “radio friendly” of the lot. What’s great, though, is that it starts out like a Steve Reich piece (or at least something Sufjan Stevens’ Illinois). At the chorus, it breaks into a straightforward folk-rock feel. In the bridge back to the verse, the violinist (Gabe Witcher) sneaks in a great solo—his judicious use of vibrato here is perfect … I wish more fiddlers would follow suit.

Though, it’s not as windy a path as was “Familiarity,” “I Blew It Off” still packs a few surprises. Each chorus adds more vocals, simply harmonies at first, followed by some more polyphonic layering.. The changes in texture serve as nice palette cleansers throughout the song.

“My Oh My” is another great song. This one is one of the first really bluegrass-sounding moments on the album. It doesn’t start that way, though. It is only when Thile et al.’s blues-inflected vocals move into the song’s bridge that that Appalachian flavor really shows up. As before, “My Oh My” is a bit restless, the chorus calms down considerably, first supported only by Thile’s mandolin, with the others players entering at various points. The final verse is fully-orchestrated, and the vocals are full, complete with soaring falsettos. A great moment comes around 3:45. The two vocal parts dip below their ultimate note and swoop up to it, both staying perfectly in tune throughout this portamento. Impressive. The band’s use of dynamic contrast is also impressive in this piece.

True to the group’s crossover leanings, The Phosphorescent Blues includes two arrangements of pieces from the late-19th-century: a version of the Passepied from Debussy’s Suite Bergamasque and an arrangement of Scriabin’s Prélude in C minor, Op. 22, no. 2. Though I want to love the Debussy (because, really, what is not to love about Debussy?), this arrangement isn’t great. The Scriabin is a little better, but it’s nothing earth-shattering.

The album’s closing piece, “Little Lights,” is a gorgeous ballad featuring more of the now-familiar vocal harmonies. (Curiously, Thile grew up in Carlsbad, CA … maybe that is where he picked up his penchant for Beach Boy harmonies.) The song slowly builds to a rousing, sing-along, Coldplay-esque (in the best way) repeating chorus. Given the chops these guys have, it would have been easy to let this one get away from them. There is so much crescendo, both in volume and texture, that it would be a lesser-calibered band’s cue to dig in and show off; Punch Brothers stops short. The song ends even more softly than it began, which is perfect.

Conclusion

Seriously, this is an amazing album, and you really need to hear it. Force yourself, if necessary. I promise it will be worth it.

9/10

On Tuning My Bass in Fifths

The short version

I’ve been playing with my bass tuned in fifths, an octave lower than the cello (CC-GG-D-A, from bottom to top), for about six months. This creates some challenges, but not as many as you’d think. There are also some advantages. The biggest advantage is that, at least with my instrument, it sounds much more open and direct—like a big, honkin’ cello. Like everyone else’s, my bass always sounded kind of tubby and un-violin-like. Now, it sounds really good, better than I have ever heard it. I also feel like I can play in tune with myself better … something about the overtones, I s’pose. The hardest part is that I have to think extra hard sometimes, as stuff isn’t where it has been for the last seventeen years.

Bottom line: I am really liking this change. I think it might be permanent.

The long version

For some reason, I can’t seem to just play the bass according to the way your “supposed to.” I didn’t have a proper teacher until I was eighteen (two years after I started), and we never really got into nitty-gritty technique. He was (is) a phenomenal jazz player (the guy played with Miles Davis … how much more legit can you get?), and the few lessons we had revolved more around constructing good bass lines than technique.

Then, when I got to BYU-Idaho, there wasn’t a bass teacher. I was a music major, attending on a jazz bass scholarship, but I was left high and dry without a teacher. (Despite the fact that I was required to take private lessons as a music major.) So, they stuck me with one of the best student bassist there at the time. He was a good player, but not a good teacher. It didn’t help that I had virtually no “classical” bass experience when I got there.

Finally, halfway through my sophomore year, a new cello teacher showed up, and he was fine with taking on the two or three bassists that were scraping by without a teacher. We didn’t really work out of the Simandl method, but that was, essentially, how my lessons went: no third finger below thumb-position; always keep you thumb behind your second finger; come back to first-position whenever possible … stuff like that.

The university hired an actual, for-real bass teacher the following year. He was into the Rabbath stuff (a little bit). We worked out of the George Vance repertoire. I was allowed to use my third finger once I got up to (Rabbath’s) third position (thumb at the heel of the neck). I was also “allowed” to do these pivot-shift things, which made the fingerboard feel a little more manageable.

Still, I was experimenting with all sorts of weird stuff. I stuck frets on my bass for a concert with the University Baroque Ensemble. I played in a DD-GG-D-G tuning for Cello Suite No. 1. After my recital (which was in solo tuning, as I played the Hindemith Sonata), I started playing in a “drop D” tuning most of the time.

After I graduated, moved to back to California, and was playing in the Pomona College orchestra, I decided to take the Rabbath thing a step further and bought a bent endpin. I wasn’t quite ready to go all the way and drill a new hole and all of that, though. My last bass teacher at BYU-Idaho was a German-bow guy, so that is where I ended up upon graduation. The trouble is that the whole bent-endpin thing is pretty tricky to pull off with a German bow hold. I didn’t have a French bow, so played with a French grip on my German bow for a few years (until I could afford to buy a decent French bow … and sold my German bow).

Finally, I stuck with this setup for about ten years. No more monkey business. Then, last fall, I got the crazy idea to try to play a piano/cello duet by Webern for a faculty recital at the college. And, that was really only possible if I could tune the instrument like a cello. So, I bought a set of fifths-tuning strings. Along the way, I came across Tomoya Aomori’s website, and absolutely loved the way he sounded. Obviously, a big chunk of why he sounded so amazing is because he is he, and the reason I don’t sound that good is because I am me. Still, he had some comparison videos and information that convinced me to really give this wacky thing a try.

So, since last November or so, I’ve been playing with my bass tuned in fifths. I like it. A lot. I feel like my instrument sounds better; I feel like I sound better. I don’t detest playing my bass quite as much as I used to. When given the choice, I would almost always choose to practice viol over bass. Now, I kind of like playing bass again. I always felt like (and was told, repeatedly) that I had a really good-sounding bass, but now I think it sounds better than it ever has.

Most people think that this tuning means you have to shift a lot more. My experience has been that it is only a little more, if at all. Firstly, I am now using all four fingers, instead of three, which means I have a pretty good range of notes under my fingers. Secondly, since so many bass parts are really just cello parts, they tend to “sit” better with the instrument tuned in fifths … like a cello. I also feel like I can hear myself (and my intonation) better with this setup.

Don’t get me wrong, I am still a pretty lousy bass player. Still, I am a lousy bass player that now sounds a little better than he did at this time last year, if for no other reason than the fact that his instrument sounds better.

On The Beatles' Influence

See the following article: Billboard: Rap’s Impact Outweighs Influence of The Beatles, Says Scientific Study.

Obviously this article is really just “click bait” aimed at baby-boomers, but I must admit that I actually agree with it in part. The “scientific” methodology sounds pretty spotty to me, especially when they are attempting to “measure” something so not-very-measurable. I am, however, always interested in contrarian views on topics like this, especially ones that I think have some merit.

So, here is where I agree: I think that the Beatles get more credit than they deserve. Maybe not a lot more, but I am not sure they deserve all of the deification and praise that has been thrown at them since 1964. I also think that George Martin gets less credit than he deserves. Certainly portions of Sgt. Pepper’s, probably significant ones, are his doing. The same goes for the musique concrète and aleatoric stuff on the White Album.

Malcolm Gladwell has this whole chapter in Outliers about The Beatles’ supposed 10,000 hours of experience that accounts for their greatness. Though I don’t disagree that this preparation (I do question the math involved, however) made them better at what they did, I think this discounts the simple dumb luck of doing the right thing at the right time, of being in the right place at the right time. Especially since The Beatles’ influence has very little to do with their playing ability (what those 10,000 hours of practice would have developed), and everything to do with songwriting and record production—which, again, have a lot to do with George Martin.

There you go. Time to burn me at the stake.

Not that kind of doctor

Oh yeah ... I passed my dissertation defense last week. No recommendations. No revisions. Done. So, I can demand that people call me “Dr. Smith” now. But, I won’t.

Album Review: The Dream Chase by Sydney Blake and The Misters

Sydney Blake has gone through quite a few personnel and band-name changes over the past five years or so. She fronted Hedley Lamar back in 2011, went by the name Polaroids and Petrichor for a while in 2013, and performed as part of a duo called Jester James on and off around 2010 ... plus whichever ones I might have missed. In each of these incarnations, Sydney proved herself to be a talented and unique vocalist and songwriter. She has a knack for writing infectious but unpredictable melodies; her voice carries an air of cheerful naïveté (in the best way possible ... think Nina Persson from The Cardigans) which is aided by a subtle, quirky inflection in her diphthongs.

Sydney’s new band, The Misters, consists of Sydney on lead vocals and ukulele, with a guitarist and drummer as backup. The EP has quite a bit of extra instrumentation, the most charming of which might be the glockenspiel parts in “Sad Songs.” In general, the new orchestrations are well written and arranged, though the “production value” is less-than-great.

The Dream Chase is Sydney Blake and The Misters’ first CD, a self-released, five-track EP. The band released the EP back in August 2014, but I think they have full-length album due for release very soon. I have been listening to the EP off and on since last October. Initially, I listened to the album a dozen times or more within the first three or four days. As time has passed, I have “moved on,” though only because new things came along, stealing my attention away. Listening again, I still find the album as nice as I remember it being during those first few weeks.

 As I said earlier, one of Sydney Blake’s strengths is her gift for crafting memorable yet fresh melodies. There are a few great examples of this on The Dream Chase. The chorus in “Stick to the Plan” might be the best example.

 There are really two distinct sections in the chorus. The first one starts with a descending, then ascending scale set to syncopated rhythm. This is a nice, catchy melody. It “feels” like this is the song’s “hook” (which is a word a hate but it has fallen into such wide use that I feel like I have no choice any more), and it would be a great one. But, the next phrase features a very different, equally “hooky” melody. This one is more static than the first. The lyrics here, “‘Cause it feels my mind keeps me up all night,” are great, and the accompanying melody, though kind of static, is perfect. Then, just when you think Sydney has arrived at the chorus’ main melody, she jumps back to a variation on the first one, then a repeat of the second one, plus  a two-bar extension. All of this combines to make what would have been an awkward fourteen-bar phrase sound perfectly fine, great even.

Another nice surprise shows up in “Sad Songs,” where Sydney toys with some mode mixture. At the end of each verse, the song lands on a minor chord where there should be a Major chord. Put into music theory terms, she throws a iv where there should be a IV, at least according to everything before it. 

 This is a perfect example of Sydney’s talent for throwing just the right curve balls at us, but without over doing it. Plus, at least in “Sad Songs,” she keeps everything perfectly sing-a-long-able and catchy.

Though “Supernova” is clearly the EP’s strongest “single” (I think it is bit over produced), my favorites are “Sad Songs” and “Dreams” (though I do wish, so, so much, that the strings weren’t fake … especially the pizzicato stuff). “Dreams” is just a nice song with well-thought orchestration. The melodies are trite, with a lot of empty space.

As mentioned before, The Dream Chase’s weakest elements are the obviously-less-than-real orchestrations. This is especially obvious with the string parts. I think the producer, Adam Sisco, made the mistake of trying to make the strings too big, as if he had an entire symphony at his disposal. The parts are right for that, and, had he access to an orchestra, they would sound great. But, the “orchestra” comes across as kind of cheesy instead. Still, one can hardly blame the group for their ambition to fill out the band’s sound with a lush string section … I do like what Sydney /Adam did with the percussion—the glockenspiel parts in “Dreams” and “Sad Songs” are near-perfect and the chimes in “Midnight” add just the right amount of levity to the chorus.

Overall, I am thoroughly impressed with The Dream Chase. It shows so much potential and inventiveness. Sydney’s grasp of melodic writing, and her sweet, almost vibrato-less voice is just beautiful. While writing this review, I’ve listened to the EP half-a-dozen times (or more) over the course of two days, and I am not tired of it in the least. Those cute, slightly unpredictable melodies have a way of bouncing around in my head, which is something I welcome.

7.5/10

On my PhD Commencement 'n' Stuff

My wife and I moved to Pomona, CA in December 2004.  That was over ten years ago. At that point, we had been married for exactly one year. She graduated with her music education degree the previous May, and I finished up my “musical arts” degree a few weeks earlier. We didn't know it at the time, but my wife was pregnant with our daughter; she was born the following September.

We moved to Pomona, from Rexburg, ID, so I could attend graduate school at Claremont Graduate University. In the twelve or eighteen months before I finished my bachelor's degree, I realized that the stuff I thought I was interested in doing weren't as interesting or exciting anymore. I started at BYU-Idaho on a jazz bass scholarship, thinking that that was what I was going to do with myself; I was going to be a jazz bassist (and a high school music teacher as a “backup plan”). Fast forward to the end of my bachelor's program, and I wasn't so interested in performing anymore, nor was I excited about the prospect of being a high school teacher. What I was excited about was learning about music and reading and writing about music. So, I found out that musicology was a thing, and figured out that *that* meant I needed to go to graduate school. I applied to a few programs, heard back from Claremont pretty quickly, they offered me some money, so I decided that CGU was the next step toward some sort of “career.”

Official CGU Class of 2015 sunglasses. It's good to see that all of that tuition went to some use.

Ten years, two kids, and a full-time, tenured position later, I walked across the stage at CGU’s 2015 Commencement ceremony and was “hooded” as a Doctor of Philosophy.* My kids have no idea what it is like to have a father that is *not* working on schooling or a dissertation. In fact, my son was born after I took my doctoral qualifying exams. I have been in school (though those 6+ years as ABD didn’t really “feel” like being in school) since I was five. I started Kindergarten in September 1987, and I have been “in school” ever since.

I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I am no longer a student working toward a diploma or degree. This is a new concept for me.

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*Actually, due to some sort of mixup, I was hooded as a Doctor of Musical Arts, not as a Doctor of Philosophy, as I should have been. There were three of us getting PhDs in Musicology and three getting DMAs; the PhDs all got DMA hoods (pink), and the DMAs got PhD hoods (blue). After we all got back to our seats, we swapped clothes. Professional, indeed.

Receiving the wrong hood. Perfect.

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Walking away from college-student-status. Forever.

Mark Your Calendars ...

So, if you aren't busy, you could come to my dissertation defense, now officially scheduled for May 26, 2015 at 11.

I am more than happy to raise my expected attendance ... 

Dissertation ... done.

It only took six years, but my dissertation is finally done.

My wife and kids gave me this t-shirt, in good faith, a little less than two weeks ago. I promised them that I wouldn't wear it until it was true.

I sent an email, with a link to download my dissertation, to the three members of my committee sometime around midnight on Sunday night. About two weeks before that, my committee Chair and Dissertation Advisor told me that I should send my dissertation to the the others "immediately;" I really did do everything possible to send it as soon as possible—I have the extra gray hairs and saggy, blood-shot eyes to prove it. Unfortunately, I was either being too picky or simply wasn't as far along as I had led myself (and my advisor) to believe, and the earliest I was able to get it sent was on Sunday night. Two weeks late.

It is already too late to graduate in the Spring, 2015 semester. The deadline for having everything done, including the dissertation defense, was April 3. I have applied for graduation during the Summer term. Technically speaking, the degree will show up on my transcript as soon as all of the requirements are completed; a "Summer" degree simply means that I missed the Spring deadline—I could have the degree in hand before the Spring semester has ended (in theory). But, since it took me so much longer than my advisor had asked, I may be too late for a Summer degree as well.

My advisor spends most of the summer teaching in Budapest every year. She is leaving on May 28, but will also be out of town for about a week between now and then as well. So, receiving the degree during the "Summer, 2015" term means that there is a two-or-three-day window that will have to work for everyone in order for my to graduate during this academic year. (Oh, and they'd all have to cooperate on my behalf  ... that might be the bigger challenge).

I am not incredibly concerned about graduation in the Summer vs. the Fall, save the fact that a Fall degree means I will have to register and pay tuition for the Fall semester. That's another few thousand dollars that I would rather save. Also, unless I have a PhD listed on my official transcripts by July 1, my employer won't recognize it until the following year (the 2016–2017 academic year). That's an extra $7,000 I'd rather earn this next year as well.

"Threatening Chickens"

Does it look like a pig? Happy Thanksgiving.

The World's Most Useful Email

Courtesy of the my employer:

Got it?

This, too, shall pass

Lots of things are difficult right now, most things. I am trying to find comfort in the idea that suffering is part of existence, and without it, we can't really learn or become better.

This, too, shall pass. I hope it is soon.

Tell Us the Name of Your Favorite Vega-Table

Here is the paper I read at the recent AMS meeting (Pacific Southwest Chapter). I hope you don't have anything to do for the next 30 minutes. Reading through it again, it feels kind of jumbled and abrupt in places. I had to cut a bunch of stuff at the last minute to try to get it into the available time. Enjoy ... or something like that.

Pet Sounds, released in May, 1966, is generally considered the pinnacle of Brian Wilson’s musical career. Despite its relatively lackluster commercial response, Pet Sounds was almost universally lauded by critics and musicians. Paul McCartney famously said that the Beatles would not have made Sgt. Pepper’s without first hearing Pet Sounds. Most publications that put forward so-called “Best-Albums-in-History” lists (Rolling Stone, Spin, NME, and the like), place Pet Sounds somewhere among the five greatest albums of all time.

Pet Sounds is markedly different from the band’s earlier work. Pet Sounds abandons the band’s lyrical clichés and greatly expands the group’s timbral palette. Indeed, where the song “Surfin’ Safari” featured an electric guitar, electric bass, and drums, the orchestra behind “God Only Knows” includes a french horn, a harpsichord, flutes, strings, and sleigh bells. And, while “Little Deuce Coupe” is a trite song about a fast car, “I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times” is an introspective lament about alienation and self-doubt.

By the time Pet Sounds was released, Brian Wilson had retreated from touring and performing with the Beach Boys for over a year-and-a-half. From the band’s earliest days, Brian was clearly the band’s most talented member. Brian wrote nearly every one of the Beach Boys’ original songs, with his cousin (and fellow Beach Boy) Mike Love serving as lyricist. Additionally, Brian served as the band’s primary producer, arranger, and artistic director for most of the 1960s. While Mike Love was the band’s frontman, it was certainly no mystery that Brian Wilson was the band’s actual leader. But, after Brian decided that he no longer wanted to tour with the band, his role therein changed.

There is 1966 photograph of Brian Wilson holding a picture of the Beach Boys. A dejected-looking Brian is sitting behind the photo while his brothers, cousin, and friends smile from within the frame. This is a tragic image. As the photo suggests, Brian Wilson is not really a member of the Beach Boys any longer, but a man who supports, even carries them, from “behind the scenes,” so to speak. The 1966 UK tour booklets have the words “Beach Boys” emblazoned across the front; in the picture below are the faces of five men … none of them is Brian Wilson.

No longer troubled by the pressures of near-constant performing and touring, Brian was able to focus his attention on record production. Los Angeles in the mid-1960s was the crucible of the burgeoning art. There, Phil Spector was the de facto record-production-king du jour.

Brian Wilson thought so highly of Phil Spector that he once compared him to Bach. Of hearing the Spector-produced song “He’s Sure the Boy I Love” for the first time, Brian said that the recording “opened up a door of creativity for me like you wouldn’t believe. Some people say drugs open that door. But Spector opened it for me.” Wilson has described how studying Spector’s work changed him, stating “I was unable to really think as a producer until the time I really got familiar with Spector’s work. … That was when I started to design the experience to be a record rather than just a song.”

And this was what made Pet Sounds so special. With Pet Sounds, Brian Wilson created a sonic atmosphere that was consistent and engrossing across the album. Rather than the album serving merely as a vehicle for a hit single, Pet Sounds was an album-length statement.

Pet Sounds is often cited as the first “concept album.” Nearly everyone cites the album’s (supposed) narrative structure as the album’s “concept,” but the narrative isn’t the point (if it is there, at all). Brian Wilson himself has said that his “concept” for Pet Sounds was not lyrical, stating “it wasn’t really a concept album, or lyrically a concept album. … It was a production concept album.” Hence, Brian Wilson’s vision for the album had far more to do with a timbral consistency than any sort of lyrical cohesion. (Never mind the fact that, as usual, the lyrics are not Wilson’s, so any commentary that dwells on Pet Sounds’ lyrics should remember that they are Tony Asher’s. If there is a lyrical “narrative,” Asher deserves credit, not Wilson. Thus, if Pet Sounds is a “concept album” based purely on lyrical cohesion, this makes it Tony Asher’s “concept album,” not Brian Wilson’s.)

In the midst of the Pet Sounds sessions, Brian began work on the song “Good Vibrations,” but as the deadline drew nearer, Brian decided to abandon the song in order to finish the album.

In total, Brian Wilson dedicated some twenty-two sessions to “Good Vibrations,” spread out over an eight-month period. The song took so long because of Wilson’s new methodology. Essentially, the song was written and recorded in disparate chunks. Wilson would record, for example, a single phras only to later edit and rearrange it (along with countless other chunks) to form a cohesive song. Thus, the song was constructed by assembling various modules, rather than a more traditional, linear process.

It is important to note that almost all of the writing and recording work for “Good Vibrations” was done without the other members of the Beach Boys. In fact, the Beach Boys’ only contributions to the song were lead and backing vocals and a bit of percussion, bass, and organ. Expressing his displeasure with Brian’s orchestrational extravagances, Mike Love pointed out that “none of the Beach Boys play[ed] the cello.” Remembering this fact highlights how distant Brian’s relationship with the Beach Boys had grown. Basically, Brian was toiling away on his “pocket symphonies,” diving deeper into the creative possibilities the recording studio offered, while the Beach Boys were touring the world playing their “some-old” songs.

Brian Wilson was so excited about “Good Vibrations,” that he decided to expand this “modular” compositional and recording process to compose an entire album. And, given “Good Vibrations”’ commercial successes, Capitol Records was happy to support Brian’s new experiments. Eventually, the new album was given the title, SMiLE.

The longer the Beach Boys were away, it seems, the more freedom Brian felt to explore and experiment with new ideas. His creative curiosities eventually brought him into contact with some of Los Angeles’ “hipper” crowd. His association with people like David Anderle, Terry Melcher, and Michael Vosse lead him to introduction to the young Van Dyke Parks.

Parks had built quite a reputation for himself among Los Angeles’ more artistically-inclined population. Brian Wilson was as enamored as anyone; Parks immediately impressed him. After a brief conversation, Brian asked Van Dyke, point blank, if he had ever written lyrics before. Van Dyke said that he had (which Parks Later said was a lie). Brian asked he if he would be interested in working together, and within a few days Brian Wilson and Van Dyke Parks were sitting at Brian’s sand-boxed piano, working their way through one of Wilson’s half-written songs, titled “Heroes and Villains”

Eventually, Brian would become obsessed with the song. He spent more time on it than on any other song during the SMiLE sessions. In many cases, “Heroes and Villains” served as the foundation upon which the entire project was based. Many of the later songs contained snippets from “Heroes and Villains” sessions; various experiments and tangents from “Heroes” sessions ended up being expanded into entirely new songs.

Brian Wilson’s dedication to “Heroes and Villains” lasted the entire length of the SMiLE project. As stated earlier, many of the SMiLE songs, or, rather modules of songs, are connected to “Heroes.” A rather quirky song, titled “Vegetables,” sometimes spelled “Vega-Tables,” is among these compositions (though its connection to “Heroes” is not as strong as others).

“Vegetables” was written by Wilson and Parks sometime before October 17, 1966. For a brief period in the summer of sixty-six, Brian Wilson was extolling the benefits of healthy eating and living. At one point he had all of his furniture removed to make room for a living room full of exercise equipment. (Curiously, though, Brian didn’t really seem all that interested in using any of the exercise equipment. To quote biographer Peter Ames Carlin, “the mostly sedentary, increasingly chunky musician contented himself with giving evangelical lectures about fitness—[often] while digging into a big, fat hamburger.”) However superficial, this obsession with health and fitness coincided with “Vega-Tables”’ composition. 

Another one of Brian Wilson’s pre-occupations in the mid-1960s was with so-called new-age spirituality. He came to a belief that the mind was most receptive to spiritual enlightenment through physical activity that “cleared the mind.” He decided that laughter was the most effective way to achieve this clarity. Some of the earliest recordings of “Vegetables” suggest that this was one of Brian’s goals for the song. Put simply, “Vegetables” is supposed to be silly.

Traces of this effort toward comedy are apparent from the first recordings of the song. The earliest recording was made on October 17, 1966. This recording features Mike Love and Brian Wilson (also on piano) alternating the lead vocals, with Brian’s wife, sister-in-law, and the other Beach Boys performing backing vocals and laughter. The second half of the song features nothing but piano and hysterical laughter, not to mention the funny-sounding interjections provided by the backing vocals throughout the song.

Lyrically, the song is rather silly as well. Basically, the song talks about how much the singer likes vegetables. He says, “I’m gonna be round my vegetables, I’m gonna chow down my vegetables. I love you most of all, my favorite vega-table” and “ If you brought a big brown bag of them home, I’d jump up and down and hope you’d toss me a carrot.”

The second “Vegetables” session was held on November 4. In this recording, you can hear the takes from October 17 in the background while members of the Beach Boys are rhythmically chomping on vegetables. Again, what could be sillier than carrots and celery as percussion instruments, in a song about vegetables?

The third appearance of material related to “Vegetables” is in a spoken-word recording made on November 11. This track, listed as “Hal Blaine - Vegetables Promo” in the 2011 SMiLE Sessions collection, is a pseudo-improvised argument between Brian Wilson and Hal Blaine (the famous studio drummer). The scenario unfolds: Brian has stepped in Mr. Blaine’s vegetable garden. Mr. Blaine is upset and threatens Brian. Brian asks if he can just keep a few of the vegetables. Mr. Blaine tells Brian (whom he has previously called a “meat head” and a “punk”) to go get a job and buy his own vegetables. The fact that this dialog exists, and was kept on file, strengthens the idea that Wilson had, at least some humorous intentions for “Vegetables.”

There is a set of lyrics that were only used on the October 17 recording. It is not clear why they were abandoned during later iterations of the song. The lyrics in the second verse say, “Tripped on a cornucopia, stripped a stalk green, and I hope ya like me the most of all, my favorite vega-table.” The backing vocal lines of, “Running all around, dig a hole in the ground,” and, “Popping all the buttons right off of my shirt” disappear as well. In subsequent versions of the song, the second verse is, “I’m gonna keep well, my vegetables, cart of and sell, my vegetables. I love you most of all, my favorite vega-table.” Luckily, Van Dyke Parks’ wit isn’t lost (despite the deletion of his pun on the word “cornucopia”); this new lyric is just as clever. The phrase “cart of and” is a play on the German word, Kartofeln (or, “potatoes”). In general, the lyrics to “Vegetables,” even without these puns and alliterations, are quite funny, if for no other reason than the fact that this is a song about a topic as mundane as vegetables.

After the November 11 dialog recording, Wilson would wait until the following April to revisit the song. In the meantime, he worked on twelve others, including some new songs. As was the case with many of the SMiLE-era songs, some recordings from a “Heroes and Villains” session eventually found their way into “Vegetables.” A “Heroes” session, cataloged as “Heroes and Villains: Do A Lot,” contains a rather large amount of material that was later absorbed into “Vegetables.” As the title suggests, this is the portion that features the lyrics, “Eat a lot, sleep a lot, brush ’em like crazy. Run a lot, do a lot, never be lazy.” This “module” doesn’t make another appearance until it is folded into “Vegetables.”

The fourth session for the song took place on April 4, 1967. Ostensibly, Brian Wilson had left “Vegetables” more-or-less untouched for over four months. It is likely not a coincidence, though, that Brian’s first work on the song since November of sixty-six began with the “Do A Lot” material from the January 3 “Heroes” session. Here, it becomes clear that the “Do A Lot” section is considered as part of “Vegetables;” on that date, Brian recorded a piano backing track for the “Do A Lot” section, alongside other portions of “Vegetables.” In fact, Brian spent April 4–7, and 10–14 working solely on “Vegetables,” and much of that time working on the newly-added “Do A Lot” section.

These eight consecutive sessions dedicated to only one song are the first time Brian has dedicated so much undivided time to one song since completing “Good Vibrations” last September.

On April 4, Brian held a recording session that effectively picked up where the January 3 “Heroes and Villains” session left off. The April 4 session consisted of a basic piano and backing vocals track for the verse and chorus sections. Additional backing vocals were added on April 5. On April 6, upright bass and miscellaneous percussion instruments were added to the track. The percussion in this session is made mostly of random noises, though there is a reliable meter.

On April 10 the lead vocals and vegetable chomping were added. (Previous to this, the original veggie chomping [from November] could still be heard in the newer mixes). A more elaborate accompaniment was recorded on April 11, including electric harpsichord and xylophone, though only for the “Do A Lot” sections. Additionally, the band experimented with adding some guttural moans and grunts, chanting “Ooh la, day ooh la,” and “Row, row, row.” Harmonically, these chants sounds as if they are meant to accompany the song’s ending (which then gets recorded on April 14). Brian records a section he is calling “Fade” on April 12. This contains a string ensemble accompanied by ukulele, percussion, and bass guitar. At first, it is not entirely clear where this recording fits into the portions of the song we have yet encountered.

The material shows up in a 1993 reconstruction as part of the song’s ending. Neither the 2004 or 2011 versions use this material, however. Finally, on April 14, Brian adds a section called “Ballad Insert.” This phrase is quite different from everything we have heard from “Vegetables” thus far. It consists of the Beach Boys sustaining chords on the syllable “hmm.” The lead vocal, when added, sings “I know that you’ll feel better when you send us in your letter, and tell us the name of your favorite vega-table.” Interestingly, this exact recording gets recast into “Vegetables”’ next incarnation (on Smiley Smile), despite the fact that it is completely out of context there.

The time period in question is also within a month of SMiLE completely falling apart, having the majority of its music shelved indefinitely. Though one can only conjecture Brian’s thought processes and motivations during this time period, it is interesting that he suddenly turned his attention to two songs that had been lying around, untouched, for a while, namely “Vegetables” and “Love to Say Dada.” The last more-or-less official SMiLE session was held on May 18 (which included work on “Love to Say Dada”).

The reasons for SMiLE’s collapse are complex. One thing was clear immediately afterward, however: Brian Wilson was deeply damaged. He retreated into his home, refusing to leave for months on end. He rarely even came out of his bedroom. His mind was filled with paranoia. Among other things, he was afraid that Phil Spector had bugged his house and was stalking him (Given semi-recent events concerning Mr. Spector’s criminal behavior, maybe Brian wasn’t so crazy after all!).

The band was under pressure from Capitol Records to release an album, as SMiLE was now over five months late. Due to Brian’s condition, significant portions of Smiley Smile were recorded inside his home. While Brian Wilson certainly had one of L.A.’s most sophisticated home-studios, it was still a far cry from Brian’s usual territory. As a result, the new, confusingly-named album, Smiley Smile, sounds very different from anything the Beach Boys had done, especially considering that it was coming on the heels of the band’s “masterpiece,” Pet Sounds.

The first official Smiley Smile session was on June 3. The first song that Brian and the Beach Boys recorded under their new circumstances was “Vegetables.” Unfortunately, Brian was so scarred by SMiLE’s collapse, that he all but refused to listen to any of the leftover material. It would have certainly made sense to simply compile a version of “Vegetables” from the more-than-adequate leftover recordings. But, apparently, this was simply out of the question. So, the Beach Boys recorded a new rendition of the song. In all, the band completes five sessions related to the Smiley Smile version of “Vegetables.”

It is fairly clear that Brian’s level of meticulousness and curiosity is all but gone by June, 1967. The Smiley Smile version of “Vegetables” (and a few other SMiLE songs) end up stripped of all of Brian’s meticulous layering and orchestrational experiments. For lack of a better explanation, Brian Wilson is now just the sixth member of the Beach Boys; he is no longer the band’s resident genius, no longer their guiding artist. So, with Smiley Smile, the Beach Boys (now including Brian Wilson) were left to fend for themselves, and with a looming deadline to make matters worse.

Smiley Smile’s version of “Vegetables” has been drastically scaled down. The “orchestra” now consist of a single electric bass, the sound of some water being poured, and air being blown across the top of jug. The vegetable-chomping-as-percussion part enters in the same places it did during the SMiLE-era recordings. Curiously, the section Brian had called “Ballad Insert” gets edited into the Smiley Smile version; the shift in timbre and production quality is shocking, to say the least. According to several sources, this edit was done by Capitol Records, after the band had turned over the masters for Smiley Smile. Perhaps Capitol had good intentions—they simply wanted to make the song  better—but a worse way of exposing the band’s naked state and lack of sophistication would be difficult to find. After the interruption, the less-reverberant, less-produced, one might say less-beautiful version of the song returns, now with the addition of a xylophone playing a countermelody.

What is missing from the Smiley Smile version is any mention of the “Do A Lot” section inherited from “Heroes and Villains.” This is especially disappointing in that Brian had spent so much attention on this small portion of the song just before SMiLE’s collapse. The Smiley Smile version assumes this never happened, and that “Do A Lot” was simply not part of the song altogether.

Smiley Smile was officially released on September 18, 1967.

Then, in December, 1967, the Beach Boys release yet another album, this time titled Wild Honey. Wild Honey was equally out of place amongst the rest of the band’s oeuvre; it featured some country and Americana leanings … a far cry from “Fun, Fun, Fun.” As became a habit for Capitol Records over the next several years, the label used some of SMiLE’s leftovers to “fill out” the album. In the case of Wild Honey, Capitol inserted various semi-experimental takes of the “Do A Lot” section from “Heroes and Villains/Vegetables.” The album lists this “song” as “Mama Says.” It is a cappella, nothing but variations in the performance of the “Eat a lot, sleep a lot” section. Only about three weeks shy of one year ago, this phrase was conceived as part of the epic “Heroes and Villains,” and is now being treated like the composer’s sloppy seconds.

In each of these cases, it is clear that Brian Wilson had simply lost interest in assuring an amount of “quality control” over his music. He had spent several years toiling over lush, beautiful orchestrations, experimenting with minute subtleties … but always ending with nothing less that gorgeous results. Now, he was simply another member of the Beach Boys, one who, like the others, was waiting for someone to provide the guidance and quality assurance they needed.

Without access to Los Angeles’ best recording facilities, Brian Wilson showed how much he truly relied upon them for the realization of his masterworks. For this reason, “Vegetables” is one of Wilson’s most important compositions from the SMiLE era. Few of the other pieces show how drastically his lack of resources effected his work. This is especially important given that “Vegetables” was one of the last songs Wilson treated before abandoning SMiLE and was the first he resurrected afterward.

Without sounding too disrespectful, Smiley Smile is evidence to what would happen if Mike Love were left in charge of the Beach Boys’ music.

“Wouldn't It Be Nice” vocals

I found this somewhere about two weeks ago. This is just gorgeous. Listen to the entrance of the baking vocals at the word “that.” Did you know that chord was hiding in there? I didn't. Enjoy!

AMS Pacific-Southwest Presentation

I will be presenting a paper at the Fall meeting of the Pacific-Southwest chapter of the American Musicological Society (how is that for a mouthful?). The meeting will be at UC Irvine on October 11. So, if you have nothing better to do (and I certainly hope that you do), you can come hear me rattle on about Brian Wilson. 

 Here is an abstract: 

“Tell Us the Name of Your Favorite Vega-Table: Chasing Brian Wilson’s ‘Vegetables’ from SMiLE to Wild Honey”

For almost exactly one year between 1966 and sixty-seven, Brian Wilson was entrenched in the ill-fated SMiLE project. During this time he recorded countless hours of material, much of it no more than a few phrases long.  His hope was to find uses for these fragments inside pre-existing songs, or even to expand them into new songs. But, by May, 1967, SMiLE was abandoned. Among the songs Wilson composed during the SMiLE sessions, was a peculiar song, titled “Vegetables” (sometimes “Vega-Tables”). After SMiLE’s collapse, “Vegetables” was the first song Wilson revisited. The Beach Boys’ next album, Smiley Smile, included a version of “Vegetables” that was drastically different than any versions recorded during the SMiLE sessions. Additionally, an entire section of the song was missing. Three months later, this section was released as “Mama Says” on the next album, Wild Honey. Given its place at the end of SMiLE and the beginning of Smiley Smile, “Vegetables” provides a unique view into the sea change that engulfed Wilson during SMiLE’s final months, and the weeks directly thereafter. Essentially, “Vegetables” is the threshold between Wilson’s two personas: Brian Wilson the composer/orchestrator/arranger/producer of lush, intricate “pocket symphonies,” to Brian Wilson, the sixth member fo the Beach Boys. Using extant SMiLE session recordings and those from Smiley Smile, this paper will trace “Vegetables”’ development from its first appearance in October, 1966, through its inclusion in Wild Honey. In doing so, this paper will show that “Vegetables” is one of Wilson’s most important SMiLE-era compositions. Certainly “Good Vibrations” and “Heroes and Villains” are evidence of Wilson’s compositional gifts in sixty-six and sixty-seven, but “Vegetables” shows how much Wilson relied upon his recording-studio wizardry, and how spare his compositions often when stripped of his ability to tinker with them in the studio.

So, there's that ... if you're into that.