Christopher Rush

As you may recall, one of the major goals for the summer of 2017 was to read extensively in preparation for the current (as of this writing) elective Critical Listening, awkwardly subtitled “The Beach Boys, the Beatles, and Their Times.”  While that goal was partially achieved (not every work acquired during the summer was read in time for the course and some were intentionally postponed due to over-preparation), room for improvement persists.  Thousands of books have been written about the Beatles alone, and the complete library on the Beach Boys is not an unimpressive amount either, so I knew going in there would be neither time nor money enough for a complete preparation up to my standards.   Not even Mark Lewisohn has read every book about the Beatles, and that’s saying something.  Even so, it was an enjoyable summer of reading and listening and watching, and while you may be surprised at some of the missing volumes (I still haven’t gotten a copy of David Leaf’s essential Beach Boys and the California Myth, for example, since it is rather pricey on the secondhand market), feel free to send my way things you think I should have concerning these subjects.  What is covered here is the rather eclectic array of works I did have access and time to read before the overwhelming nature of the project reached its breaking point, after which is a list of the works I have waiting on the back burner for future exploration.

Dark Horse: The Life And Art Of George Harrison, by Geoffrey Giuliano

Until I get the opportunity to read I, Me, Mine, this will serve as the major study on George Harrison’s life (in print) (perhaps Mr. Scorsese’s Living in the Material World will surpass either or both). Mr. Giuliano is a knowledgeable source, which at times provides helpful insights tempered by awkward self-effacing “I don’t want to offend anyone, but…” sorts of comments. His tone at other times is bemusingly insensitive, such as during the potentially life-ruining addictions to drugs seasons of George’s life. (Similarly, Mr. Giuliano presents himself as a devout Hindu, yet the tone during much of that portion covering George’s life at times lent me to believe Mr. G thought George was just playacting.) Still and all, this does a fine job of surveying the life and art of George Harrison, the highs, the lows, and the introspective in-between. One wonders why a third edition covering the final five years of George’s life hasn’t come out, though the hinted-at falling out between George and Mr. G could have had something to do with that.

Perhaps the highlight is the dearth of Beatles-era coverage; that time has been covered by others such as Mr. Lewisohn far better than a reporter of Mr. G’s divers interests no matter how passionate could provide — but Mr. G knows that’s not why we are reading his book anyway. We want to know about the earlier times (likely) and the post-Beatles times (more likely). And while I enjoyed the reading of it all, even if a good deal of it made me sad (such as the bizarre George/Pattie/Eric Clapton situation and the perennial drug addiction issues), some of the periods I was most interested in were glossed over or not included (the Traveling Wilburys and the end of George’s life — but that last isn’t something I can fault the book or its author for). Thus, it surveys it all, and gives a significant amount of time to George’s spiritual journey, but Mr. G tends to lean more heavily to the era in which his personal experiences overlap George’s, which isn’t surprising for a journalist to do, though it does make for some of the more awkward portions of the book.

Should you read this book? If you are a George Harrison fan, certainly. If you are a Beatles fan in general, yes. If you want to know more about the ’60s, Beatlemania, and the like, maybe. If not, I’m not too sure. It’s not what one would call a “general interest” sort of biography. It answers a few questions, but it also raises more indirectly (such as, if each of the Fab Four was eager to move on to new things, why was the breakup so acrimonious?), which isn’t quite as helpful as one would want in a “definitive” or at least “updated” biography. Yet I am glad I read it, giving me a provocative peek into the life and art of the Quiet Beatle.

The Gospel According to the Beatles, by Steve Turner

Fortunately, this book is not what I thought its title implied: this is not a “hey, Christians, let’s look for Bibley-messages in Beatles tunes and sanitize them so we can enjoy them guilt-free!” book. That would be horribly distasteful, both for Christianity and the Beatles. Instead, Mr. Turner gives us a more honest survey of the spiritual journeys of the Beatles (though, let’s be honest, it’s approximately 84% about John, 15% about George, .6% about Paul, and .4% about Ringo) from recklessly secular existentialists to drug-catalyzed spiritualists and beyond. Mr. Turner, who we learn actually got to interview John and Yoko once, begins with a general but intriguing overview in the first chapter about the nature of the Beatles as evangelists of their own rapidly-evolving religion, especially once they started to acknowledge their role/opportunity as influential people, and ends with a refreshingly personal essay on his own lifetime with the Beatles that somehow evades tendentious piffle while simultaneously explaining his impressively respectful and erudite commentary on Christianity throughout the rest of the book: he believes it. And in that rest of the book we get a mostly fascinating perspective on the changing attitudes and beliefs of the Fab Four (though, again, mostly John).

I’m still a bit confused by Mr. Turner’s decision to begin the book with the “Jesus incident,” though I sort of can convince myself why he would, since it’s likely the most famous spiritual-related moment in the Beatles’ career — though, since the rest of the book is chronological, it’s odd to begin with the “turning point” of their lyrical and corporate career then jump back to their (mostly John’s) childhood religious experiences in the following chapter. Even so, Mr. Turner gives us a very researched account of the episode with trenchant commentary, including a rather chilling observation about if Al Benn of UPI hadn’t just so happened to turn his radio to local station WAQY’s broadcast while he was passing through at just the right moment to hear DJ Tommy Charles’s “ban the Beatles” ratings stunt, John Lennon may be alive today. What started as a fairly meaningless local stunt in Alabama (based on a months’-old magazine interview, no less) spiraled into an international brouhaha involving everyone from the KKK to David Noebel.

The rest of the book, as I said, is a chronological journey through the major spiritual moments of the Beatles’ collective and solo careers. John is perhaps the most interesting case after all, having had the most formal religious instruction/experiences as a young boy combined with the roughest childhood (father left, mother killed in a car accident when John was young). John goes through the most oscillating religious life of the group: early choir boy training to cynical rejection of spirituality mainly due to loss to famous musician with everything money can buy to searching for something immaterial beyond for meaning/purpose/et cetera to drugs as a gateway to cosmic oneness to Transcendental Meditation to cynical atheism to magic/spiritism/Buddhist-like panoply of Yoko to dalliance with Christianity to Give Peace a Chance. George doesn’t have many religious youth experiences, gets involved with drugs around the same time as John, gets involved with the Maharishi with the others, then gets involved with Krishna and more or less spends his life there off and on. Paul is the steady, materialistic, willing-to-dabble, Love is the Answer guy we all basically suspect he is. And Ringo is the mostly laid-back one who dabbles with his buddies but finally arrives at the efficacy of spirituality further down life’s long and winding road.

Throughout it all, Mr. Turner gives us what appears to be a well-balanced presentation of the ideas, events, catalysts, and reactions the Fab Four experienced through the good times and bad. Mr. Turner does not just give us the usual line “the Beatles got really good when they started taking drugs,” but instead he reminds us even the boys themselves understood not too long after their drug experiences drugs were not the goal of life, despite what Timothy Leary and Michael Hollingshead and others were preaching. Drugs may have “expanded their consciousness,” but drugs also damaged John, George, Paul, and Ringo in long-lasting ways. The Beatles’ best songs and attitudes during and after their “drug period” were not because of drug usage, and while Hinduism may have prompted their social involvement more than Christianity, the quest for truth remained strong in them all (more or less) — but not because of drugs.

This book does not attempt to tell the whole story of the Beatles. This book focuses on John’s, George’s, Paul’s, and Ringo’s spiritual lives before, during, and after their time as Beatles. At times the book feels like Mr. Turner’s attachment to the subject is about to interfere, but it never does so for more than a moment, even in the very personal conclusion chapter. I began the book with trepidation especially about its title, but this book was a challenging and encouraging treatment of one of the most important yet grossly neglected aspect of one of the 20^th century’s most influential groups. I will likely be reading this again sometime soon.

Wouldn’t it Be Nice: Brian Wilson and the Making of the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, by Charles L. Granata, Tony Asher (Foreword)

Though a bit hagiographic at times (no doubt precisely how I sound when speaking of Babylon 5), this was a very engaging story of the making of perhaps the best rock album of all time. Mr. Granata gives us a modicum of historical background prior to the album, with a smattering of post-Pet Sounds knowledge, mainly relating to Smile and Brian’s miraculous return to the land of “emotional stability” as Brian calls it — none of which is wholly new but all of it is presented well and concisely. For my purposes in reading this book, Mr. Granata’s sparse yet efficient history was an ideal compilation of pertinent episodes in the life of the Beach Boys beyond the main album under discussion, so I very much enjoyed that unsought aspect as well.

Some may say this enthusiastic (shall we say) presentation suffers from too much verve, though I certainly wouldn’t want to read a history of Pet Sounds from some one who didn’t like it very much. Some may say it suffers from too many technical details, though considering Mr. Granata’s background, such technical aspects (such as the nature of the recording equipment, the tonal/harmonic construction of the vocal arrangements, the psychological reasons why we respond to such celestial harmonies, the history of recording/printing/tracking/compression/digitization etc.) of the album is part of Mr. Granata’s main purpose in writing this book. The subtitle (the title itself is never addressed why Mr. Granata chose that track as the initial focus) clearly indicates this is about the making of the album, not just a “here’s why I love it so much” biography (though there is plenty of that, most of which is strings of unexplored/unsupported superlatives — I don’t disagree, I just would have preferred a tad more substance in this area).

Some may be confused, as I was, why Mr. Granata intentionally did not speak to Brian Wilson directly. He says it was a purposed choice, but that’s all — no explanation why he made that choice. Some may be confused, as I was again, why Mr. Granata intentionally gave us a revised edition in time for the 50^th anniversary of the album … but then said nothing about the 50^th anniversary tour beyond one brief reference by (I think) Tony Asher in the foreword! Why this book couldn’t have waited two more months for some words on the phenomenal 50^th anniversary tour with Al Jardine, Blondie Chaplin, and more is very perplexing.

Be that as it may, it’s hard to disagree with Bruce Johnston, Carol Kaye, Tony Asher, and others when they say this may be the definitive (if concise) story of the great(est) album Pet Sounds. I’m not saying this book (or the tour) made me think PS is the most enjoyable Beach Boys album to pop in on a whim (even Brian says Friends is his favorite), but it will give you a great appreciation for it and its worthy claim to greatest of all time.

Meditations of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi

I’ll give this to the Maharishi: he didn’t want life to be boring. No “stare at the wall and empty your mind” sort of path toward spiritual enlightenment for him (or for us). True, I don’t agree with most of what he says in these three treatises, but considering his theological/philosophical presuppositions, he is rather consistent throughout, if ambiguous about quite a few important details. It was enjoyable to spot some of the lines I must believe influenced some of the lyrics of the Beatles and Beach Boys (such as the “all this is that” line concerning the unity of all things in a spiritual way and the obvious “jai guru dev” benediction), and likewise it was satisfying in an intellectual capacity to read thoughts so influential in the world for some time, even though, as I said, I disagree almost wholly with them. Does anyone still believe Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, Buddhism, et al. believe and teach the same things? Possibly only the people with symbolically-constructed “coexist” or “tolerance” bumper stickers (people who don’t subscribe to any of the belief systems represented by those symbols, naturally). But that aside, the notion all wars, hostilities, aggression, crimes, and such like those are all the result of internal conflicts and wrong thinking is … facile? at best. I’m not denying some truth resides in the notion: clearly all hate and antagonism and acts of destruction are built at least in part upon the platform “I am better/more right/more important than you.” Yet the solution of all that being looking within to one’s personal divinity doesn’t seem to provide a proper answer: how can one’s internals be both the cause and the solution to one’s problems? I am rather ignorant about these things, of course, so I am not a trustworthy authority on Transcendental Meditation or the Maharishi or any of it, but those are a few of my initial reflections. Feel free to leave them where they are.

The Beatles, the Bible, and Bodega Bay: My Long and Winding Road, Ken Mansfield

I’ve had this book probably since it first came out (2000), but as is often the way, I didn’t get around to reading it until the right time. It was pretty good, and I would like to give it another star, but Mr. Mansfield’s tendency toward puns especially about song titles got rather irritating. It’s his first book, so I trust he stopped doing that in his later books. This is the only memoir (perhaps the only book of any kind) officially accepted by the Beatles (and Yoko). Perhaps that is because it is so positive about everything and everyone (except Allan Klein), but since I am not an insider on any level like Mr. Mansfield was, I can’t say.

Structurally, Mr. Mansfield oscillates rapidly between Fab Four days and (mostly) mid-’90s beachside scenes, which takes a bit of getting used to, but it happens so frequently one gets used to it soon enough. Mr. Mansfield does not give us a straight chronological approach to his reflections, interspersed as they are with his contemporary spiritual communion moments, which is also a bit perplexing at first. Effectively, Mr. Mansfield is reflecting on a few major experiences he had with Capitol Records and the good fortune he had to be in the right place at the right time to become a trusted member of the Beatles’ inner circle (perhaps second or third tier/orbit) for about five years. Mr. Mansfield does discuss a few other post-breakup experiences with the lads and others of that time, mostly positive memories, though a few sad memories trickle in toward the end. Mr. Mansfield does allude to some personal bad experiences in his own life post-Beatles, but he doesn’t give us many details or descriptions, so we are left assuming the ’80s were a rough part of his life until he met the woman who soon became his (second?) wife. Similarly, many of his contemporary (mid-’90s) episodes along Bodega Bay come across as psalm-like wrestling with negative life experiences with little context (though he does identify two specifically: the death of a friend/young father and his (Mr. Mansfield’s) diagnosis of incurable cancer, but since that was 1995 and he is still with us in 2017, I guess he was cured after all). I don’t want to sound like I’m disappointed he didn’t share the dark moments of his life in more detail — the ambiguity works well enough.

Overall, I learned a few things from Mr. Mansfield’s perspective, especially his unique experience of what it was like for other Capitol artists (such as the Beach Boys) who suffered whenever a new Beatles album came out, or the animosity and serious backlash (including financial repercussions) when some radio stations felt snubbed by not getting “first crack” at a new Beatles single or album. I would have preferred more such experiences beyond the somewhat repetitive “the boys were great, everything was magical, I was so lucky” sort of talk that happens throughout the book. Still, quite a few of his favorite moments (an impromptu jam session with George/Clapton/Donovan here, a pub lunch with Paul there) make for enjoyable reading about moments you could never know about otherwise. Rough spots and all, I thought it was pretty good.

The New Sound, by Ira Peck

Not to sound too much like Vanessa Huxtable, but this was “interesting” mainly for its historical perspective on the “new sound” of rock-and-roll, even though rock-and-roll had been around for over a decade by the time of this compilation. I did not realize this at first, but this is a Scholastic publication aimed at the youth, which now explains some of the tone and diction choices sprinkled throughout. There is one apparently famous (infamous) extended exploration of Phil Spector toward the end (by the other Tom Wolfe), which did seem at the time rather more antagonistic than it needed to be, especially considering this collection is intended to give helpful information — but I suppose the kids of the day were supposed to be antagonistic toward the millionaire youth instead of recognizing his unique contributions to music (whether you like them or not).
Maybe because this was written by a bunch of grown-ups for youth in the 1960s, back when kids didn’t know anything since they were kids and adults were the best because they were adults, but this doesn’t have a whole lot of helpful/meaningful/deep content. It would be one thing to be a light frothy gossip book, but it’s also a light frothy gossip book that talks down to its audience most of the time, and a light frothy gossip book that talks down to its audience most of the time by Scholastic no less, supposedly a bastion for intelligent works for the children.

I don’t want to sound like it’s all bad — it does have a few interesting “in the moment” perspectives on the “new California sound” of Jan and Dean and the … Beachboys? (The Beach Boys, as I’m fairly certain they’re usually called, despite this coming out in 1966 at the apex of their Golden Age, get only about three scattered mentions in various article things, never a serious — or as serious as this compilation gets — treatment or chapter all their own, which is particularly puzzling, especially since their “uncoolness” supposedly did not begin until the year after.)

There is one glaring aspect we can’t really ignore, and we should also keep in mind this is a product of its time, and that is the frequent mention of the … “brown sound.” This is the “sound” of Chuck Berry, Fats Domino, and Motown. Boy, those ’60s must have been everything people say they were, by golly. At least one article (sadly, an abbreviated treatment of a longer work that would be worth tracking down) by Jeremy Larner discusses the hypocrisy (though he doesn’t use that word) of the music business of the day, starting off by telling us how Nat King Cole was once beat up during the middle of a concert by the White Citizens Council in good ol’ Birmingham, Alabama in order to protect the good white folks from the Devil’s destruction by means of the “brown sound.” Nat King Cole. Let that sink in for a moment. Mr. Larner then goes on to tell us about how a lot of white singers sold a bunch of records by basically stealing them from black artists (now, to be fair, the Beach Boys did effectively lift Chuck Berry’s “Sweet Little Sixteen” and turn it into “Surfin’ USA,” but they did give Berry credit … after pressure, yes).

One other essay stood out positively, an engaging “Defense of Bob Dylan” by Henrietta Yurchenko. This stood out mainly because it was the most well-written and least tendentious in tone (slightly above Jeremy Larner’s, even). In the afterglow of Mr. Dylan’s Nobel prize, hearing about the contention in the mid-’60s about whether Bob Dylan fans are able to enjoy Pete Seeger and vice versa was very intriguing. Ms. Yurchenko offers a balancing act, in that the world of quality folk music can contain both Seeger and Dylan (no doubt a position taken for granted today).

The short mostly frosting “discussion” on the Beatles by future villain Arnold Arnofsky was nothing special, like most of this collection. It ends with a bizarre recollection by, of all people, James A. Michener, the man himself, and how he was once asked to spend a weekend of his life judging dozens of wannabe rock stars in a pre-American Idol talent contest. It was a fairly enjoyable recollection of what he learned and experienced as a complete novice in the world of rock-and-roll (surprising no one, I’m sure), but I suspect I found it enjoyable because of who it was and my history with him and his works — so you probably wouldn’t like it as much.

If you can track this down (I stumbled upon it Providentially in an Outer Banks thrift store) by some preternatural means, go for it … but only if you are a ’60s music buff to a more-than-advanced degree.

Brian Wilson (Icons of Pop Music), by Kirk Curnutt

Perhaps the best thing I can say about this is I believe the author successfully accomplished what he attempted to do: this is a well-reasoned, well-supported examination of the lyrics, musical contributions, and legacy of Brian Wilson that presents and cuts through a good deal of the hoopla, both negative and sentimental. I’m no David Leaf or Mark Linnett so I can’t testify to the complete success of the project, but even with the occasional tone dips Mr. Curnutt surveys a wide variety of viewpoints on the major areas of discussion and draws very solid conclusions from them. The only drawback, just like Mr. Granata’s revised treatment of Pet Sounds, is it came out about six months too soon! He alludes to the forthcoming 50^th Anniversary Reunion but alas can do no more than speculate — I wonder how that event would have figured in this work (well, probably not much, come to think of it).

As a focused non-fiction (instead of rambling fan-fiction) treatment of what Brian Wilson contributed (and didn’t) to the Beach Boys and the “California Sound” and more, this work mostly eschews the extremes, even making multiple references to the dangers of over-sentimentalizing Brian’s perceived frailty and thus should never be criticized. Thus Mr. Curnutt does not hagiographize nor does he cast aspersions — he even presents a good defense of Mike Love (something you don’t see in Brian-focused works).

I found every section very helpful: coming from 2012 his historical background navigates all the major biographies and works up to that point and provides what appear to be adept assessments of their weaknesses and strengths. His longer section on the lyrical world of Brian Wilson was very insightful, especially as it dealt with so much of the misinformed perceptions about Brian’s lyrics and how many of “his” lyrics are not just Mike’s but also Tony Asher’s, Gary Usher’s, Van Dyke Parks’s and more. Even a good number of the “autobiographical” songs we sometimes find too much in aren’t solely the work of Brian Wilson … and that’s not a bad thing, says Mr. Curnutt.

The longest section, about Brian’s musical distinctions, is very thorough and diverse, ranging from Brian’s ability to sculpt in the studio what he heard in his head (in a good way for Pet Sounds, not so good for Smile at times) to his oft-derided bass playing technique and what seems to be everything in between.

The final section on the “myth” of Brian Wilson is also engaging, though it does not treat on the 50^th Anniversary, No Pier Pressure, or Pet Sounds 50 as we may want (perhaps a revised edition will come out eight months before Brian’s next major release). Mr. Curnutt, as I said, is not interested in rehashing (so to speak) painful memories, but he does address what needs to be addressed quickly and academically, and his conclusions are part of what makes this such an enjoyable read (apart from the very insightful and rare analysis of Brian’s actual contributions, the bulk of the book, and what really make this required reading for BB/BW fans): Brian Wilson is not “one thing” — he may seem like an abject figure today, a shell of his former self, but aren’t we all? Let’s see you weather what he has and come out better. (Mr. Curnutt doesn’t say it precisely that way.)

By “not just one thing” Mr. Curnutt means he is not just a “figure of melancholy” whose only greatness is in his sad songs and whose sense of humor is too simple/corny to make him “deep.” Some of the best insights in the book discuss our misguided attempts to contrast him with Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, Paul McCartney, and the other storied lyricists of his day, or how we misunderstood the Beach Boys because they weren’t “hip” like the Rolling Stones, when “hip” really means “vulgar and sassy.” Mr. Curnutt points to quite a few clever, sly lines in “golden age” Beach Boys lyrics that aren’t all that “tame” but not so blatant as what everyone else was doing. Why do we find fault with Brian Wilson’s sense of humor and think only his sad songs are “deep”? We are wrong to do this, says Mr. Curnutt, and by jingo, he’s right.

Perhaps Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys were “guilty” of idolizing “The Myth of Southern California,” an exotic paradise that may have existed in early ’60s America but surely is long-gone now (just like the sweetness of all of America and the world). But … what’s wrong with that? As Mike said, “everybody knows a little place like Kokomo (or pre-Summer of Love Southern California) so if you want to get away from it all go down to Kokomo.” What’s wrong with reveling in simplicity, earnestness, decency, and good timin’? Nothing. So read this book and re-evaluate Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys. (And Mike.)

The Beatles, God & the Bible, by Ray Comfort

“So, you liked the Beatles, huh? Guess what! They’re in Hell, Hell, HELL!” That’s pretty much what this embarrassment is about. It’s embarrassing for the Beatles and people who like them, it’s embarrassing for God and people who believe in Him, and it’s embarrassing for the Bible and people who believe in that. The two most cited reference works from Pastor Comfort are Wikipedia and Playboy. Do you need to know any more? All of the “background” chapters truly read like some high school kid paraphrasing Wikipedia, except without the life, the interest, the zeal, and the meaningful context/accuracy. Those chapters are dreadful.

Then come the “critical commentary” chapters, basically Pastor Comfort (who will be glad to remind you he is the star of a television program syndicated around the world) blindly flailing with pinking shears around a religious-type comment or experience with the Beatles, jaggedly divesting it of any meaningful context. Following this treatment, Pastor Comfort begins his barrage: “clearly, real Christians don’t say or do things like this. Real Christians never fear, never worry, never sin. Real Christians never, EVER consider taking the Lord’s name in vain. Ever.” I’m not making that up. I may be contracting a few different commentary moments into two sentences, but he does make those sentiments clear throughout this work. “Real Christians” never sin; “real Christians” never worry; “real Christians” never are haunted or regretful of their former misdeeds.

For no explicable reason, Pastor Comfort spends an inordinate amount of time trying to convince us Mark David Chapman was not a Christian. Apparently it is difficult for some people to understand a man who admittedly sought out the Devil’s advice and listened to him and then murdered someone in cold blood is not a Christian. Most of the book is about John Lennon and Mark David Chapman, but it’s not any good. Pastor Comfort spends some time trying to convince us Paul McCartney does not believe in God, even though Paul McCartney has done a terrific job of that over the years on his own. Among the panoply of cringe-inducing moments, certainly high is Pastor Comfort’s treatment of Linda McCartney. I was going to identify some of it, but it’s too hateful and too nauseating. (Pastor Comfort wants us to believe getting an MBE helped make Linda’s death better for Sir Paul — and that’s not the worst part.)

Despite the fecund territory for Pastor Comfort to interact with George Harrison’s life and beliefs, he doesn’t really take a lot of time to interact with George, other than to hammer us heavily and repeatedly with the fact George couldn’t possibly be a Christian because he doesn’t worship the same way he does (well, there’s a tad more to it, but I thought a sly Stones reference, if you’ll allow, would make some of the hurt go away).

Wasn’t there another … Rango? Bingo? Banjo? Oh, yes. Ringo. Pastor Comfort barely has time to tell us a few things about Ringo in the final chapter, as if he doesn’t matter at all, and since he said the “d-word” and casually used God’s name in vain (though, since Jesus didn’t speak English, it’s possible “God” isn’t His “real name” anyway) Ringo can’t possibly be a Christian. Despite what Steve Turner has to say in his far-superior book The Gospel According to the Beatles, which I would far recommend above this pile of hooey any day of the week, according to Pastor Comfort Ringo Starr can’t possibly be saved, since he does not fit his checklist for “real Christianity.”

Did I mention Pastor Comfort has a checklist that delineates what “real Christianity” is? Oh, yes, he does. In the secret aftermath of his … whatever this was, Pastor Comfort gives us lengthy advice on how we as “real Christians” can avoid headaches and hardships in the Christian life (most of which entails buying and using the curriculum Pastor Comfort and his company have designed, surprising no one).

Please don’t read this. Please don’t buy it for your friends and family members who like the Beatles, God, and the Bible. This thing doesn’t really have anything to do with any of them.

The Nearest Faraway Place: Brian Wilson, the Beach Boys, and the Southern California Experience, by Timothy White

This is a pretty full work, as most people already know. It’s not a quick biography of the people in the subtitle, since it takes over a hundred pages for Brian to be born. Context is king in this work: context of the Wilson family, context of the California experience, context of the cultural factors going on during the Beach Boys era (mostly the “golden age” era). I’m not sure it was intentional on his part, but Mr. White makes a stark contrast of the Beach Boys and the beach life — too much anger, too much pain, too much disappointment passed down from generation to generation; not only was Brian not made for these times, but the “Beach Boys” were not made for the “beach.” When they tried to break away (so to speak) from their early, false image, the fans, the record label, the Decision Makers wouldn’t let them. Somehow, their most creative and experimental era (’67-’73 or so) is their least popular, and from the mid-’70s on, they are stuck being a Greatest Hits band mostly against their will. The beach is all about freedom, fun, good times — and though the BB sing about these all the time, this life was effectively denied them (one generation to the next).

This is not precisely Mr. White’s viewpoint, but it seems to be there, underneath, and not too deeply. This is also not to say the Beach Boys never had any good times in their lives or that they didn’t enjoy making and playing the music, but Mr. White as so many other biographers do conveys the perpetual sense of pressure, disappointment, self-recrimination, artificial stimulation excess, psycho-physical-emotional breakdowns, and almost miraculous survival through it all. It’s truly miraculous Brian Wilson is still with us (as of this writing), having gone through no fewer than three life-shattering epochs, even one of which most of us could not handle let alone all three. And that does not even count the deaths of his brothers and the British Invasion, an event that seems in retrospect like a mere irritation in the lifespan of the Beach Boys.

As I said, all of those comments are undercurrents — none of that is White’s point or emphasis. His is an optimistic work, despite the generational heartache, especially as it reached its completion in 1994, shortly after Brian achieved his final and permanent freedom from “Dr.” Landy. If you want to know what “The California Experience” was like in the first two-thirds of the 20^th century, this work will likely never be surpassed (surely no one will ever locate let alone read the Cali-centric tomes, pamphlets, magazines, and miscellany in the bibliography). This work (calling it a “book” seems a derogation) brings to vivid life what the subtitled individuals experienced in that time, doing so in an accurate and openhearted perspective that puts the pessimistic view of Nathanael West to shame. It’s not an easy read (and not just because of the sorrow), but if these subjects interest you, this is among the top-tier “must reads” of Beach Boys lore.

In His Own Write and A Spaniard in the Works, by John Lennon

The back cover of this collection highlights several words from reviewers. One important word they all forgot to include is “tedious.” Before you get on your high horses about how sacrilegious it is to defame anything by John Winston Lennon, you should try reading it for yourself, which is likely something you haven’t done. It’s not very good. People are fond of saying John Lennon was fond of Lewis Carroll. This is not Lewis Carroll. This is an angry young man — and don’t get me wrong, he certainly has quite a few legitimate reasons to be angry — who has translated “boring and difficult childhood experiences” into “nothing anyone else says is true,” typing what could be clever stories and poems but with a remarkably irritating persistent commitment to adding and changing letters in words. Some of his letter, suffix, compound noun transcriptions are truly clever — but those are statistically ultra-rare ensconced as they are within non-rational uses of the ubiquitous trope. It’s such a pervasive device, Mr. Lennon truly sabotaged his own creativity. It’s just a hassle to read. And a book that is a hassle is not clever.

Some of the poems are treated better by Lennon, but it’s hard for them to stand out among the morass of petulant non-stories. By the time one gets to A Spaniard in the Works, John Lennon is truly angry at religion, society, and just about everything. Again, I’m not saying he’s not justified, but the petulance of the work contributes nothing worthwhile to the challenge of making religion, society, and humanity better — he’s just angry and basically throwing a sub-literate temper tantrum. Anyone who comes to these hoping for something resembling his lyrical work will be sorely disappointed. I’m not faulting Mr. Lennon for not doing in his prose what he did in his lyrics — I’m faulting him for being so childish about it. And I decry the publishers and pundits who laud it solely based on who constructed it — tsk, tsk, brownnosers.

Fifty Sides of the Beach Boys: The Songs That Tell Their Story, by Mark Dillon

This is a good example, for me, of how the atmosphere around a book (how you learn about it, when you read it, those sorts of things) can significantly affect your reading of it. I wasn’t too keen on getting this book when I first saw it, a few other sources I had recommended it somewhat obliquely, I found a used copy cheap, and there it was. I know the subtitle should lead us to think it’s basically a history of the Beach Boys as a group, but the emphasis on the 50 songs also leads us to think it’s going to be about fifty of their most important/famous/best/whatever songs. I didn’t want yet another guy’s take on the story of the Beach Boys, but letting their songs tell the story, well, that notion won me over to getting it (plus the cheap copy on-line). But that’s not what this book is, sadly.

The author (and it is truly Mark Dillon telling the story of the Beach Boys, not the songs) tries to give us some half-hearted apology at the beginning about how he was limited in what songs he could include because all the people who responded to his pleas for personal insights and song experiences ended up slanted toward a few albums and some songs, missing some albums entirely (such as the great So Tough) and emphasizing Pet Sounds (and while it’s not bad to emphasize Pet Sounds, claiming to tell the Beach Boys story by skipping entire albums because of artificial limitations is nonsense). This leads to another of the misleading aspects of the book: it claims these famous and integral contributors to the BB story are reflecting on the songs. While Mr. Dillon does quote them for that particular song, their insights and reflections are sparse at best. Mr. Dillon’s version of the BB Story does most of the talking. This is not true for all 50 songs, but it is true for more than 40 of them. The insights from the people who were there are too thin, too short, too rare. Yes, Mike Love gives you some notions, and Blondie Chaplin gives you a new line or two, but it’s not nearly as much as the book wants you to think it is or how much you want it to be.

Concomitantly, Mr. Dillon gives us insights from a large number (I’d say “disproportionate”) of reflections from, well, fans. Fans that had/have their own bands in the 21^st century, and some of them have even met Brian Wilson or other Beach Boys, but I don’t know them. I don’t know their bands. I don’t care about their fan responses to these songs. Once I graduated high school, I basically drew the line of my musical experiences: the bands now and before, no more. Surely I am missing out on much wonderful artistry in the 21^st century, but having seen enough Grammy-award-related ads for today’s “musical artists,” I’m pretty sure the past is where it’s at. Feel free to send me a list of the great ones of today I am missing to disabuse me. (Disabuse, I say, not abuse.)

Returning to the focus at hand, I did not get this book to read profanity-laced adulations of the Beach Boys in meaningless, superlative terms, which is most of what we get from the “contemporary musicians/producers” upon which Mr. Dillon was dependent to construct this history. I don’t want to give you examples, because they are not worth recounting. I’m not saying I can come up with more lucid praise, but that’s why I’m not writing books about them (at least, not yet). The fan chapters offer nothing of value.

This book intentionally came out for the 50^th anniversary of the Beach Boys, knowing full well they were going to get together and go on tour and put out a new album. So instead of waiting for that rather significant element of “their story,” the book came out before that and immediately became out of date and incomplete. That decision made no sense to me, even as a cash grab for the 50^th anniversary. Why not wait until it has happened so you can speak about it?

If you haven’t read any general histories of the Beach Boys, and if you know about these musician-like people who saltily praise the (real) musicians the Beach Boys, this may be a fine book to read. I came to it too late in my journey through the story of the Beach Boys to appreciate it or find much worthwhile in it. It does have, as I said, three or four good chapters (such as Mike Kowalski, Mark Linnet, Billy Hinsche) with fresh and engaging insights (Mike Kowalski was the longest-termed drummer for the BB) about the history of one of the greatest bands of all times (with possibly the saddest story of all time). Thus, I don’t know if I can recommend it: the aspects that entice, the insights from those who were there, are too few to be worth spending very much money. The songs do not tell their story, here, unless “their story” is one of chart positions and sales figures. Many chapters are replete with nauseating Wikipedia-like lists of data, none of which give us valuable insights into what makes the Beach Boys “the Beach Boys.” It only tells us English listeners in the 1960s and ’70s were more intelligent than American listeners, something we already knew. This history does give us a good sense, though, the people who initially look like “heroes” to the Beach Boys often end up as “villains.” The book gives Mike a fairly decent shake, which is nice as well.

Is this the Beach Boys book for you? Not if you are looking for meaningful insight into the actual songs. That contrivance is a misleading scheme for what the book is: Mark Dillon’s version of the Beach Boys Story besprinkled with rarely insightful and mostly irrelevant commentary from people of whom you may or not have heard. I honestly do not know if this book is for you, but if you can get a cheap copy on Amazon or somewhere, go for it. If you want a free one, stop on by and I’ll give you mine. I’m done with it.

That’s what I got through this past summer (though I admit I had started the Harrison biography before the summer began).  Below is a mostly complete list of the books I have sitting down there waiting for me to get to as soon as I can.  I don’t include this to brag about my Beach Boys/Beatles literary collection, as it is quite pitiful in comparison to what is out there and I know I am missing some of the most important works out there as I’ve already said, but this is here mainly to give you some other ideas on the diverse reading opportunities should you be interested in knowing more about two of the most important bands in (rock) history.

The Beach Boys

The Beatles