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Rating: Is it advertising, or were the Beach Boys really that good? Did they make catchy tunes and occasionally something serious, or was there talent behind all those tunes? Do they deserve the fame they have? Is their constant comparison by critics with the unreachable Fab Four from Liverpool or other music legends of the last century justified or not?
I went to Milan last July 27th, partly to answer these questions that have been spinning in my head for years, partly because I love vintage music, and maybe, partly, following an instinct that has always made me perk up at the sound of one of the songs by Wilson & Co.
I arrive quite early, and at the Milan racetrack, I don't find any lines. There's not the typical big event atmosphere, the kind that excites you at least a bit, the kind that fills the air with electricity, the kind I honestly expected to find. So, I enter about an hour before the beginning (the ticket said 21:02), and I find myself right under the stage, a stone's throw from a white grand piano. I look around and see people of all ages, a few attractive girls, and the same percentage of people my age that I notice when I follow my guru JPMC around the world. There are lots of Beatles T-shirts, one of Motorhead, even one of Clapton and the Queen. Very few or no Beach Boys T-shirts.
Slowly, the parterre almost fills up, a few more T-shirts arrive, and the sun starts to set. A bit of excitement rises, but not much.
As soon as the mosquitoes arrive (many and vicious), the lights go out, and a long-haired stranger goes to the drums and starts playing a basic beat. An unbelievable number of musicians enter, including the well-known "additions" Bruce Johnstone and David Marks; one of them announces: "ladies & gentlemen, welcome the original Beach Boys, Al Jardine, Mike Love, and Brian Wilson!"
The emotion I'd been waiting for hits me all at once, and the somewhat disconcerting sight of three elderly men taking their place on the stage does not dampen the enthusiasm that the first vocal chord of the evening injects into my veins. I find myself dancing like a teenager with a goofy grin on my face: here's the Beach Boys effect, this time live.
When an unknown or slow song comes on, the adrenaline disappears, and my critical spirit takes over. There are too many people on stage, even 14. In some songs, there are 5 guitars playing simultaneously, and no matter how hard I try, I can't distinguish them. I count 5 Hammond organs and pianos. An excessive deployment of forces, at times almost detrimental. Those Hawaiian-style shirts and caps clash on the bodies of elderly gentlemen who, as lively as they may be, at times elicit tenderness.
Then the rhythm picks up, and magic returns. Few words and lots of music, and Mike Love, who seems to be approaching 90, moves slowly, dominates the scene like a lion, and deploys a voice that is high and nasal, or deep and brooding, truly enviable. Once again, I'm captured by catchy melodies, a good base power, and harmonies that have been setting the standard worldwide for 50 years straight. It lasts over 2 hours, and they almost touch 50 songs. Not bad at all for these old folks, honestly, I didn't expect it.
A special mention for what's left of Brian Wilson, unrecognizable, deformed by the years and transformed into an old man, dressed in sweatpants and a wrinkled polo, parked behind a piano that he hardly ever touches. Him, who knows, damn if he knows, didn't deserve this display of his drama. He sings little and poorly, his gaze lost in the void, even stops the applause that the delirious audience dedicates to him when he seems to come out of his stupor for a moment. I don't know what to say, to a person of that stature, I would have dedicated at most a cameo or two. Seeing him like that moved and saddened me.
But let's get back to the music, because that's what we're talking about. Hearing Good Vibration live was incredible, just like God Only Knows... and many others.
The Beach Boys have made, and they can make (now I have the evidence), great songs, no doubt about it. Their "positive" effect, the goofy grin, lingers in the days after the concert, and their melodies have resonated throughout my soul as a musician. Even now, they're stuck in my head, and since then, I've spent hours on YouTube watching archival footage. Now that I've seen them, I have the confirmation of what I've always known admiring them from afar, concentrated on more "noble" musicians: the Beach Boys have the magic touch, they have something extra and, I have to admit, their music is truly addictive. Will I get out of the tunnel? I hope not.
BYE
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