All great rock bands and musicians have a good story behind them. A narrative arc. Most of them are familiar to us, from tv or cinema biopics. Typically, the RockStarHero, makes his first splash, rising from the rank and file of normal musicians due to some musical quality that sets him apart. As his fame grows, so grows his appetites for life and love as everything he can wish for is set before him on a silver platter. Women, money, fast cars, big houses. Drugs. And then it happens. What begins as a curiosity or a way to cope with enormous pressure or just becomes an increasingly large problem for the musician as he struggles to remain on top and maintain and control his various addictions and his career and lifestyle. Eventually he sinks under the weight of it all. Someone he knows dies. It becomes a nightmare. He loses everything, He goes down as far as he's come up...eventually he grows up and gets out of the hole he's in and continues making his music, older and wiser.
that's one story arc.
Another is the Beatles' arc. It starts with one small success leading to a bigger one and that to a bigger and so on. A friend once told me that the Beatles had the greatest story of all rock bands. He wasn't a big fan, but I was. I hadn't thought about it, but I immediately realized he was right. The scrappy beginnings, the Hamburg struggles, the mounting super-fame, the pressure of the road and the darker events of 1966 leading to the transformation from rock band to psychedelic studio band, the trip to India and embrace(and subsequent rejection) of Eastern Mysticism, the last 'perfect' album, the sudden disintegration right at the point that the rot started to set in and then the final, unexpected splintering into four distinct artists, leaving behind a body of work almost perfect...After that, it gets messy, with slagging off in the press and suits and counter-suits and nasty rancor, but, hey that's the POST-Beatle story. The Beatle story itself...There's just something so...neat about it. So Beatle-y. Like the almost cheesy final twelve-string guitar lick in "If I Fell."
I mean, it works so well, you almost don't want to like it.
The Beach Boys' arc is not like that. IN fact, I'm not sure if there is a Beach Boys arc. Or maybe it's that there are so many narrative arcs, each contradicting the other.
Were they a band whose foundations on Brian Wilson's undoubted genius were sabotaged by the ungrateful, greedy others, causing the leader's artistic, delicate soul to completely shatter? Were they a band of hard-working talented individuals whose careers were sabotaged by Brian Wilson's self-indulgent excesses and flat-out insane behaviour? Is it a story of a group of super-talented brothers, tortured by a physically and psychologically abusive childhood, triumphing in music only to be pulled down and destroyed by the talented but ordinary efforts of the rest of the band, a group too narrow-sighted to give the Wilson's their creative head because it would mean decreasing revenue for their high-flying lifestle?Or is it the story of several talented musicians generously struggling to keep the geniuses in their midst from fatal self-destruction by any means necessary? Is it a story of a hard-working man who made his ungrateful sons and their ungrateful friends stars only to be stabbed in the back by them at the height of their success...or is it the story of an abusive man who attempted and almost succeeded in destroying his own childrens' futures...? Is it a story of artistic triumph or greed? Fun or depression? Sanity or madness?
The thing is, it's all of these.
The Beach Boys are probably the most confounding of the 'great bands of the sixties.' I mean, a quarter of their music is absolutely sublime, really, some of the most amazing and complex progressive pop music EVER; and a good 50 percent of it is superior pop-rock, a little on the soft side for some people's tastes, perhaps, but no less brilliant for all that.
And then there's the last quarter. The worst, most crass commercial pap ever released, arguably. Just letting the music tell the story doesn't help because the music itself is as contradictory as the various members and their respective points of view.
Gaines does a pretty good job of uniting the strands of these various narratives and twining them together into one complex story. But no one could make this story into one as neat as most bands'. Gaines doesn't talk too much about the music,(and when he does, I don't always agree with him) but then, the music speaks for itself, for the most part, good and bad.. Instead he focuses on the personality and actions that they take. And well...
None of the Beach Boys or their various associates come off particularly well, with the possible exceptions of peace-maker Carl Wilson and the loving easy,going mother, Audree Wilson. I mean, it's called Heroes and Villains...but it could have just been called 'Villains.'
Gaines doesn't spend much time on 'lesser egos' of the band,: Alan Jardine, Bruce Johnston; and especially Blondie Chaplin, Ricky Fataar and original guitarist David Marks; all remain sort of enigmatic and colorless.
Much light, however, is shed on, Brian Wilson's mad, uninhibited actions and the groups never-ending attempts to tame his mental illness for his(and their) own good. Mike Love's anger management problems are stressed. The choleric, abusive father/manager Murry Wilson emerges surprisingly well drawn. Some supporting characters, like Brian's long-suffering wife and the violent and perhaps leechy Love brothers, who worked for the organization in the late seventies, are also fairly prominent. Youngest Wilson Carl, whose production talents and band-leading skills got them through the seventies is sadly, undemphasized.
But the real triumph of the book is in the well-drawn portrait of Dennis Wilson, the also-ran genius of the band, the slightly less brilliant and slightly less mad(though still incredibly talented and incredibly fucked up) middle brother, whose tender and incredibly sad last days are set down in painful detail. His is a story of substance abuse trumping all else. Unlike addicted icons like Ray Charles or JOhnny Cash, once Dennis Wilson went down, he never hit rock bottom and resurfaced. He stayed down there and died.
Gaines treats his death as a sort of cathartic sacrifice, as he ends the book on positive note for the rest: 1985:The Beach Boys band as one of the top ten American concert draws; Brian Wilson fit and healthy and heading towards productivity again thanks to the eccentric but effective techniques of since-defamed 'doctor' Eugene Landy. It's a tidy, neat ending to a long story of changing fortunes and rock star ego-clashes, drugs, and murder, and even incest...the Beach Boys were indeed, a 'diseased group of motherfuckers' as Lester Bangs put it.
With hindsight, thirty years after it's publication(in 1985, less than two years after Dennis Wilson's death) the optimistic ending seems...well, almost comical. For the story did not end there. It trudged on in the same confounding tradition, through the late-career commercial re-peak in the late 80s(and simultaneous descent into kitsch and cheese); the fitful, faltering solo career of Brian Wilson; the 'divorce' between the Landy/Wilson team, resulting in Landy being prohibited from practicing medicine; the many law suits of Mike Love against various other members; the emerging oldies act for seniors; the surprising 50th anniversary tour and album of 2012, when the Beach Boys released the best album they had done since the late seventies(some would say the early seventies) and the all-too-predictable disintegration into bitterness of 2013...
The book needs a sequel.
But for now, it's probably the best, i.e., least syncophantic and complete biography of the Beach Boys as a band we have. (Catch a Wave by Peter Ames Carlin is a great, even revelatory, Brian Wilson biography, though.)
I recommend it for anybody who's a fan of the music or thinks that they could be. But ultimately, as mentioned above, the music tells the story in all it's absurd contradictions just as well...