I just looked at the dailies and they were all wrong. Not really sure where you want me to start, so I’ll delve in no certain order. Maria wanted to play a stoned game, one of those where everything moves slowly and in suites, like a late60s Brian Wilson synaptic sneak out. He was obviously on to something. And then that something decided it wanted to experience the planet Earth and the human race for a spell. In a bed. In a room. In a house. In California. There are worse places and times for one to have tastetested existence. I can think of five right now.
Doo doo doo. Affect-blustering phonemes. Is Dennis here? I’m sure. It is only 1967. And it was recorded in Bel Air. Bel -fuckin- Air. Could the intersecting references be any more on a tee? Not in the least. How does one make it to that decision to “scrap” a work of artifice? Is there a fact-checker present to ensure that the decision is completely informed by all of the need-to-be-known variables? If not, how much does one of those fact-checkers cost? No, not in 1967 dollars, in present-day dollars. I’m looking forward to the feeling that Good Vibrations evokes in this context. After Little Pad’s tea-infused first few seconds. And Yes, Dennis is on here. Of course he is.
And it doesn’t fit at all. And I would be so upset if I was Brian. I understand his existential angst. But damn if it isn’t an amazing tune. Absolutely perfect in every respect. “The most expensive and complex pop recording.” At that time. Excitations. Canonical. You compare everything else in the same idiom to it. And then it ends. And you’re abruptly returned to lo-fi stoner pop gems. And the vibe continues.
