Oh, Danny, Danny, Danny -- or, Little Douche Coupe

Your Ticket Confession forgives Danny almost anything. In fact, it recently bestowed upon the sainted Mr. Balis the ultimate compliment, comparing him to bacon – a little Danny improves almost anything.

Danny requires very little forgiveness, but it is apparent from Confessors’ comments referencing Danny that one of the few things they would edit out of his act is his űbercoolness about music. About this I would agree. I am an admirer of Danny’s musical talent as it manifests itself on The Ticket, but I am not familiar with his non-Ticket oeurve. I don’t own any Sorta or any of his solo stuff, no particular reason, just haven’t gotten around to checking it out.

But yesterday – oh, Danny, Danny, Danny.

Sneering at – The Beach Boys. (Corby joined him in this sneering, but this particular article is about Danny Danny Danny, and Confessors I hear from don’t get exercised about Corby’s musical tastes.)

Now I will concede that in these the Twenty-Taints songs from fifty years ago about chicks, surfing, high school, and cars don’t sound cool to forty-year-olds. It might not even have sounded cool to those forty-year-olds when they were fourteen. And the Beach Boys didn’t get into groovy trippy lyrics until “Good Vibrations” and Brian Wilson’s collaborations with Van Dyke Parks. And I will also concede that we’re not talking about instrumental virtuosity here.

But oh, Danny – the music, the music.

Brian Wilson in the studio during "Pet Sounds" session

Brian Wilson is widely acknowledged among musical scholars and serious pop music critics as a musical genius.  Look, I know there's a lot of pretentious BS in the musical press on the artistic merit of marginal pop. I am not a scholar of music, but I am knowledgeable about it and I concur with those who stand agape at the alter of Brian. Couple of things:

First: Melody. It’s near impossible to do well. Oh, we can all write a little melody that follows the conventions acceptable to Western ears, but the chances of it being catchy, much less of catching the interest of millions of your fellows, is vanishingly tiny. Brian Wilson wrote dozens of them.  Dozens. And while all were catchy, many were and remain truly beautiful -- even some of the car and surfing songs, like "The Ballad of Ol' Betsy."  Freakin' song makes me cry.   Who can write like that, song after song after song? Paul Simon; McCartney and Lennon; Richard Rogers; Cole Porter; Jerome Kern; Fagen and Becker. Might put Billy Joel on that list. Personal addition – Brian Eno. Others, for sure, but not a lot with the vastness of Wilson’s string of hits.

In the documentary "I Just Wasn't Made for These Times," Tom Petty compares Brian Wilson to Beethoven.

Second: Sophistication. Jeebus, Danny, I know there’s a lot of posturing in the musical world, but lots and lots and lots of people who know quite a lot about music recognize Brian Wilson as a musical genius, albeit a naive (untrained) one. Yeah, critical attention doesn’t define great music, but his music is great. And part of what makes it great is that it manipulates musical forms in a way that engages the ear in a very complex way.  Paul McCartney repeatedly acknowledged the Beatles’ admiration of “Pet Sounds” and its influence on "Sgt. Pepper."  Books have been written about Wilson’s construction of his songs – and not just the gorgeous harmonies, but the underlying chordal structure and use of time.  I’ll link to just one site that analyzes one my my two favorite BB songs – "The Warmth of the Sun," a stunning song composed on the night of JFK's assassination with Mike Love.  (My other favorite is “Don’t Talk” from “Pet Sounds,” of which I have actually had a role in recording a cover. “The Warmth of the Sun” is a favorite of many musicians, who point to one particular chord change as nearly revolutionary as a single chord change can be.)

Yes, it's sad to see the remnants of the band continuing to cash in on music that was made all those years ago, and which only Mike Love had some role in composing.  But part of the reason they can keep doing that is that the songs are fabulous constructions, every bit the equal of the Beatles' pop classics.  Brian Wilson never went on to record a "Sgt. Pepper" or "Abbey Road," but what he accomplished in the face of paternal opposition, mental illness, and the ossified studio system in the US at that time -- nothing short of breathtaking.  And what remains on the vinyl is still absolutely transporting.

So, Danny – not my leader, exactly, but pretty close until I saw you in that hat at the World Series remote – your credentials as a knowledgeable music guy are presently in purgatory. The Danny Nation will be listening for your further musical judgments upon which to evaluate your worthiness as a guide to excellent song listening.

But of course, you could give a crap about what we think. 

And we love you for it.

Two Cheers for Hardline Music Talk

    

 

Whenever I do an article on Hardline music talk, I get a lot of comments highly critical of The Hard Ones, especially noting (1) music snobbishness, usually by Danny but sometimes by Corby, and (2) the frequency that a small number of artists are featured:   Neil Young, The Rolling Stones, Tom Petty, a handful of others.

 

I'll declare my bias.  Long before I was aware of The Hardline, if you had asked me to name my three favorite modern acts, they would have been Steely Dan,  Jeff  Beck, and Neil Young -- three of Mike R's favorites as well, plus Petty.  So off the bat, I don't mind most of the music talk at all.  Other than Danny's (fairly rare) mentions of newer local and obscure national acts, the guys' fave raves coincide with those I got a taste for from my years of primo music appreciation.

 

But I'm not defending their taste in music.  I want to make a larger point about The Hardline, and probably The whole Ticket.  I'll concede the Confessors' point, that there is a fairish degree of repetition in a lot of it.  Even Nude Music Tuesday, on whatever weekeday it happens to fall, tends to feature new releases by old acts.  (So that's where the one cheer gets subtracted.)

 

The thought I want to share is this:  Isn't one of the things that makes The Hardline and all of the showgrams great that they don't pander to the P1?  That these shows are almost more overheard than  heard?  A bunch of white guys + Donovan sitting around talking?  Sure enough, repetition can be boring.  But I'd much rather that Mike, Corby, and Danny were unselfconscious in their music talk rather than trying to gin up chatter for stuff they don't care much about.  I've never heard a single Widespread Panic song, but Corby's enthusiasm for the band has attained the status of a bit, and it's OK.   Mike defends his attraction to certain older, sometimes schmaltzy, pop hits that earn Corby's and Danny's scorn, and it's always a refreshing interude.

 

So I'm good with the quantity and quality of music talk on The 'Line.  Sure, I disagree with it sometimes, as I did with Andy Williams.  And I've defended The Beach Boys in these pages against Danny's and Corby's sneering.  (Oh Danny, Danny, Danny -- or, Little Douche Coupe)

 

And, to get you all good and lathered up, let me say that Neil Young has made some of the most beautiful music, and written some of the most striking songs, of the past fifty years. 

 

 

Why Haven't Brian Wilson and Mike Love Sued . . .

.  .  .  Lute Riley Honda?  The jingle on the Lute Riley Honda ad is a direct copy of "Help Me, Rhonda."

By the way -- "Help Me, Rhonda" was the first Beach Boys song with Al Jardine on lead vocal.

Sorry for the not-very-Tickety post.