The Beach Boys
Byron Preiss
First Published: PB. 1979. Ballantine Books, New York.
This Edition: 1st Edition
This is the first authorized biography of the band, an obvious response to David Leaf’s The Beach Boys and the California Myth, presenting a more savoury, somewhat sanitized narrative of a united group. Even just reading the foreword, Preiss thanks nearly everyone who had written a notable article on the band to date, with Leaf’s name conspicuous by its absence. So, there’s more than a bit of a whiff of an agenda at play throughout this book, but that’s always to be expected from any band looking to control its own narrative.
One of the big plusses of this book is the access the author had to the band, and hence it’s littered with great quotes, many of which I’ve not read elsewhere. He was also given access to unheard music (which was later leaked and came to be known as “The Preiss Tape”, the basis for the first Smile bootlegs) and the book speaks tantalizingly of Smile material, even presenting a few reprinted lyrics to ‘Can’t Wait Too Long’. Quite a scoop in 1979!
However, many readers and especially long-time fans might be put off by the fawning tone of the bulk of the book, which is at heart a revisionist puff-piece. Preiss employs quite a bombastic style when setting the initial scene, which sometimes reads like a tele-play voiceover that can seem insincere, or at the very least a bit corny. Eventually he settles into a formula of moving through each phase and album with a basic documentary style of writing: the facts of what happened are shared, but without a sense of the emotional, spiritual or financial impact on the band. More time is spent on superficial descriptions of album contents, a bit moot since most people reading will probably have heard all these songs themselves. Throughout, he smooths over the more lamentable aspects of the band’s history and dramas are downplayed: Brian’s removal from touring doesn’t mention the infamous aeroplane breakdown incident that the band themselves had freely discussed in the press up until this point. It just makes it sound like Brian felt overworked and fancied a break. Elsewhere, drugs are seriously downplayed, with only fleeting references to Brian’s habits and you can be sure the name Charles Manson doesn’t pop up. Preiss even glosses over ‘Never Learn Not to Love’ in his 20/20 review. Often the band’s tribulations are discussed with a tone suggesting that they are the victims of external social and cultural forces, rather than the architects of their own misfortune with awful business and artistic decision-making. Overall, the agenda is to present the old “brothers, a cousin and a friend” image of a band united throughout a few bumps in the road.
Where Preiss does shine, though is in the thoughtful situating of the band’s music within the rock n’ roll and pop landscape of the era, whilst unpacking the deeper emotional appeal of the band’s early work and how that enduring sound resonated with a new, younger audience in the '70s.
Another unique aspect of this book is that Preiss’s prose is interspersed with direct quotes from the band and other notable figures; quite a cinematic style of storytelling that is used to support his statements and amp up the drama. Occasionally, it’s also used to comedic effect:
"Brian’s whole thing all along has been the juxtaposition of the dumb and
the brilliant" – Carl
"The lyrics of ‘Busy Doin’ Nothin’’… I thought they said something" – Brian
Preiss presents quotes from all the major names in the Beach Boys story to date, along with very interesting comments from the likes of Dorinda Morgan, Chuck Britz and Jim Lockhart – people who worked closely with the band at different stages in the recording process but who you don’t often hear from. That said, I have to question the veracity of some of their memories, since there are some irregularities, especially around the early formation of the band and their first audition with the Morgans.
Conversely, the more recent history of the mid-to-late '70s offers up some juicy details. 1974 is one of the most overlooked/under-documented years in the group’s history, and I really enjoyed reading more detail about the partnership and tour with Chicago (a huge milestone success for the band that desperately needs to be represented somehow through the band’s future archival releases), the band working at Caribou ranch, the California Music side-project, and Brian’s work recording with Roy Wood and Stephen Kalinich on songs like ‘Honeycomb’ and ‘Lucy Jones’ that are still yet to surface.
Likewise, the period following Love You (late ’77-early ’79) is given a lot of focus, which makes sense since the book seems to have been finished at the time the band were working on L.A. (Light Album). A lot of books typify this as a period of decline for both Brian and the band leading to the re-institution of Eugene Landy, the death of Dennis and the creative collapse of the group. However, without knowing what was just around the corner, Preiss documents this as a fertile time, sharing reflections on the hugely successful 1977 show in NYC, the band’s work with the Joffrey Ballet and Twyla Tharp, and details on Brian’s work attempting to revive Spring with Rocky Pamplin in the mix (oh, the dramatic irony!) The book ends on an optimistic note, with Brian successfully rehabilitated back in to the band and a rousing, orchidaceous discussion of what the band means to America.
Another big aspect of this book are the images. There are a lot of black and white and colour photos of the band, many quite rare, no doubt a few candid shots supplied by the band themselves. But what this book is perhaps most (in)famous for are the full colour illustrations. Lots of them. And they are all - with very few exceptions – awful. Mostly poorly executed, naff or plain ugly. Lots of grotesque airbrushed garbage. But the worst ones tap into a particularly creepy vein of oddness. Ralph Reese’s ‘When I Grow Up to Be a Man’ takes a feeble idea (the band as babies being pushed in a pram) and executes it horribly, with one of the babies making a grab for Momma’s mammaries. My favourite illustration is one of a bored Dennis seemingly rolling his eyes as Mike cavorts with a bevvy of beach babes: perhaps a sly comment on where the band were at creatively in 1979? These illustrations take up a lot of the book’s 64 colour pages that could have have otherwise been devoted to more rare photos, but most are so-bad-they’re-good and give the book its own unique flavour and selling point, so enjoy them for what they are.
Overall, I enjoyed this book. It’s not the most analytical, nor is it the most truthful. But it conveys something in what it chooses to omit and is also peppered with lots of interesting quotes, facts and crumbs that have been lost over time.
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