Brian Wilson
I wonder if this is some kind of creative doubt
One of my favorite bands sings about one of my favorite musicians. Also, you may have noticed I’m writing here a little less frequently. Never fear. Plenty of pop-culture musings, nostalgia, and coming-of-age philosophy on the way. It’s just that I’ve been hard at work writing a book on Meaningful Productivity. More on that soon.
Brian Wilson
Barenaked Ladies, 1992
On the A-Team, Hannibal used to say, “I love it when a plan comes together.” And I love it when two areas of interest come together.
When I was in my third year of college, a close friend of mine said she had a cassette I needed to hear. She knew my musical tastes. So when she said I would love this album, my interest was piqued. We listened to it in her car. And she was right. I loved it. Loved it to the point of obsession. I couldn’t get the tunes out of my head. I knew I must purchase this album ASAP.
From the opening notes I was hooked. BNL combine excellent musicianship, with hooky songwriting, delicious harmonies, and a big dose of clever, funny lyrics. And they had a secret ingredient.
I’ve mentioned several times that I love groups with multiple lead singers. Something about keeping the sound fresh and not having every track on an album sound the same. Groups like the Beatles, The Beach Boys, They Might Be Giants, and Barenaked Ladies have multiple songwriters contributing to each album. After a few albums, you get the feel for each songwriter and each voice and all of the delightful combinations that emerge when they collaborate.
It was difficult to select a track to write about as this album has become such a fixture for me over the decades, I love every song. But the track “Brian Wilson” is a crowd favorite at the live shows. It also represents an encapsulation of some of BNL’s strengths.
not afraid to be edgy, weird, or funny
but also unafraid of beautiful, hooky pop
top-notch musicianship
occasionally unbridled energy
smooth, sweet harmonies
lovingly delivered pop-culture references
A blend of coffee-house instrumentation and traditional rock group instruments
memorable, well-crafted lyrics
The song opens with Steven Page’s wonderful, creamy voice in a light, high register, singing us an evocative story about visiting a record store on a rainy night. The arrangement is sparse, leaving room for for his self-doubt to permeate.
While thinking about what to think about, he comes across tracks from Brian Wilson’s unfinished masterpiece, Smile. These tracks had been salvaged and stuck onto other Beach Boys’ albums while Brian famously stayed in bed for a few years. The singer equates his own self-doubts with those of Brian Wilson. If a universally admired musical genius at the peak of success could experience such a loss of belief, then what hope for the rest of us? So…
I’m lying in bed
Just like Brian Wilson did
The song is chock full of chromatic bends indicating warped thinking. The bongos are insistent, yet never grab the foreground. When Ed joins Steve on the first chorus, their voices blend perfectly, like they always do (I miss Steve. Wish he would rejoin the band.). Suddenly the singer isn’t alone. Other voices sing of the same doubts. Maybe it’s a universal part of the human condition.
The rhythm section provides a coherent center for the spiraling doubts and propels the song into almost upbeat territory. Jim Creeggan is possibly my favorite bassist and is a delight to see in person. Tyler is a Ringo kind of drummer, there to support the song, not bang over everybody.
There is something therapeutic about this song. Steve’s plaintive voice, calling into the night. Isn’t it comforting to recognize when we are stuck? Doesn’t it give us a tingle to identify with one of our idols? That we feel as they must have felt. An extra connection beyond mere fandom.
And like Wilson, the song becomes temporarily unhinged.
I had a dream
I was 300 pounds
And though I was very heavy,
I floated till I couldn’t see the ground
I floated till I couldn’t see the ground
I floated till I couldn’t see the ground
The lyrics become almost self-hypnosis. The music picks up intensity. Ed’s chromatic guitar epiphany absolutely fits the song, a psychological break made into musical form.
And the ending of the song becomes self-acceptance. Confident, upbeat, harmonious. A microcosm reflecting our own journeys. First we think we are different and alone, surely no one else feels like this. Then, we identify our struggles in other people’s lives. Finally, we accept our humanity, doubts and all. But, how can we live joyously amidst these doubts? Because maybe doubts aren’t a flaw. Doubts show that our critical thinking is functioning. Doubts show that we have a conscience. Doubts show that we are reevaluating our previous positions, embracing nuance, and rejecting overly simplistic answers to profoundly complicated questions.
Over the years, I’ve lost touch with the friend who introduced me to BNL. I hope she’s doing well. But, I never lost touch with the Barenaked Ladies. They are the band I have seen live more than any other artist. Back in the days of buying music (instead of streaming), I bought most of their stuff on release day. During that first listen to their first (official) album, driving around Rochester, NY, I had no way of knowing that this band and this music was going to be an enduring part of my life. So many other groups fell away over the years.
On this same album, there is a song about Yoko Ono (tying into my deep love of The Beatles). This song is about Brian Wilson and I’m a lifelong fan of Brian Wilson and The Beach Boys. BNL also make references to Star Trek, pull musical quotes from other bands, and blend multiple musical styles across the album. My brain loves it when various interests come together. No wonder albums like this one feel like home.