This came out in 2004 – or at least that’s when I got it. Here’s what I said about it back then (with some minor editing):
Whoever it was that said there’s a fine line between genius and mental illness could have been talking about Brian Wilson. And near as I can tell, the time the pop legend spent on the wrong side of those tracks had a lot to do with his great unfinished symphony Smile.
For those not obsessed with all things Beach Boys, Smile was originally due in 1967 as the successor to the groundbreaking Pet Sounds. But as the legend goes, at the last minute, Brian cracked under the strain, aborted the disc and abandoned it to the ages. Sort of.
Over the years, plenty of bits and pieces of Smile have actually surfaced. Some songs like Good Vibrations and Surf’s Up found their way to discs like 20/20 and Smiley Smile. Others ended up on bootlegs and official comps. But still, for nearly 40 years, Smile has been viewed as The Great Lost Beach Boys Album. The Greatest Album That Never Was. Maybe even The Greatest Album of All Time.
Or maybe not. Truth is, we may never know. Because even though there is much hype over the long-awaited release of the newly finished Smile, this isn’t the original Smile. It’s more like Smile V2.004 — a revisited, revised, refurbished version recorded by Wilson’s band and fleshed out with new material.
On one hand, it makes sense. After all, Wilson could hardly be expected to work from 37-year-old tapes. Besides, he and his group have been playing Smile live for months. So it’s easy to see why he opted to haul them into a studio, hire some strings and record the whole thing live off the floor just like the old days. And give everyone props; Smile sounds incredible.
Somewhere between a travelogue and a musical history of America, this is a sprawling work of breathtaking invention. More symphonic and less song-oriented than Pet Sounds, it incorporates everything from old standards like You Are My Sunshine and torch balladry to the orch-pop psychedelia and complexity you expect from Wilson — all swimming in layer upon layer of his trademark barbershop harmonies.
Reflecting Wilson’s oddball personality, some of Smile is childish and simple (like Barnyard, with its Old McDonald sound effects); some is big and stylish (like the Chicago Fire instrumental Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow); and some of it is eye-rollingly ridiculous (“Bicycle rider, just see what you done — done to the church of the American Indian!” Um, OK.).
But a lot of it is also a little too familiar — and that’s the trouble. If you’ve ever been a Beach Boys fan, you’ve already heard Surf’s Up, Heroes and Villains, Cabinessence, Vegetables and other cuts that Wilson reworks here. Even if you’ve been in a coma under a rock, you’ve heard Good Vibrations, which he also redoes. That’s right — he remakes Good Vibrations. Sure, it’s his song. Just like Star Wars is George Lucas’s movie. But the old versions of both were just fine, if you ask us. Remaking them is just bad, bad, bad.
But not bad enough to ruin Smile, admittedly. Not by a long shot. Still, decisions like that are concerning enough to make you wonder if revisiting Smile was truly an act of genius or … something else.
