Aug. 1, 2008 - The Austin Chronicle

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MUSICThere’s a problem in paradise.At the far left side of America, near a perfectspot of beach where bohemian Venice, Calif.,blends into the tony Marina del Rey, all’s notright on Washington Boulevard. It’s fall 1983,and things are turning crispy. Reaganomicshas started to make itself seen and felt. Streetsaren’t being swept, and those trying to liveon them no longer feel quite as welcome.Summer’s over, and the crowds have left:gone back to school or the Midwest, wherelife might not be as exciting but is a whole lotsafer. There’s even a new drug sneaking aroundthe underground: crack cocaine. Those tryingit are gone, and they’re not coming back.At the end of Washington is the Venice Pier.The serious fishermen show up at midnightand stay all night. They’ve got company froman assorted batch of 1960s hippies whocouldn’t quite figure out the 1970s and arenow caught on the treadmill of chasing ahopeless high. When the marine layer is sothick that it blocks the morning sun and thePacific Ocean has lost its summer joy, lifedown here edges more toward a nightmarethan the promised land.Perfection has a downside, and this is whereit lives.One man among these street regulars stillhas a shine. Dennis Wilson helped create theCalifornia dream. As a youngster, he was anatural athlete, and once he discovered surfing,Wilson found his groove. His brothers,Brian and Carl, were starting a band, andtheir mother insisted they add Dennis as thedrummer. Before long, the Beach Boys wereplaying teen hops and recording local hits. By1963, they’d become America’s most gloriousgroup, and their drummer, even sitting in theback behind his swirly kit, was the one everyonewanted to be. He was a powerhouse, apounder who sent out an animalistic strength,someone who carried himself like he knew hehad few equals. Carl, Brian, and singer MikeLove might have formed the front line, butDennis Wilson was the Beach Boy. He knewit, and now he can’t forget it.Twenty years later, the curse of having everythinghas taken its toll. The drummer is nolonger even allowed at Beach Boys shows. He’sliving on his past but doesn’t seem to care. Hemade that deal a long time ago and now followsthe thread to the very end. Some days he howlsat the sun, gripped by walking dementia, andon others he’s all smiles, with his new baby ina crushed-velvet stroller that probably costs asmuch as some cars. Or he’ll pull up in frontof Nick’s liquor store in a cherried-out 1956baby-blue T-bird convertible, leave it running,and hurry back out with a half-gallon of vodkahe’s stolen from behind the counter, cacklinglike he just graduated from the cuckoo’s nest.We bump into each other for the first timeon one of those days, literally, and he stepsback like he’s ready to take a swing. Wilson’seyes are flying saucers, spinning in their ownorbit, though it’s not even noon. I say helloand ask if it was hard playing a right-handeddrum kit left-handed, hoping that takes thebite out of him. Obviously thrown, he pets thelarge dog at his side, looks at me sideways, andtells me that the animal can smell “queers,”The Mayor ofWashingtonBoulevardDennis Wilson’s California dreamBY BILL BENTLEYthen jumps in the Thunderbird and roars off.The next morning Wilson’s back for morevodka, but without the dog. He sees me andsmiles, like I passed the dog test. Relieved, Iask him about his 1977 solo album, PacificOcean Blue, and if he’s going to make anotherone, telling him those songs are like white soulmusic from some secret planet. His eyes tearup, and I’m afraid he’s going to have a nervousbreakdown right there on the sidewalk.“I can’t,” he says. “It hurt too much.”We go sit down on the low seawall, wherehe immediately jumps into the bottle of vodka.For the next hour, Wilson tells me how muchthat album meant to him andhow many more songs he’sgot squirreled away. He justdoesn’t have thick enough skinto try it again.“No one listened,” he moans,“not even my brothers.”I can feel what’s happenedto him, the chance he took asthe first Beach Boy to make asolo album and then havingit largely ignored. Underneath the lion’s glare,there’s clearly the soul of a child that nevergrew up, one that’s been patted on the head allhis life as the problem brother, never heard.It wasn’t really a surprise when DennisWilson died a few months later. As one of hisclose friends said, “He drowned way before heever hit the water.”He was running out of options in December1983, living on a boat in Marina del Rey. Hedove beneath it – said to be looking for anold photo of first wife Karen Lamm – and hedidn’t resurface. Or so the legend goes.For many, that was the end of the originalBeach Boy, Dennis the man who brought oneof the biggest rock & roll bands of all time tolife. Like all great legends, that’s not wherethis one ends, because through the sonicmiracle of reissues, Wilson’s Pacific OceanBlue has come back to life 31 years later inglorious expanded form from Sony’s LegacyRecordings. There’s now a chance to hear howmuch more there was to the black sheep of theWilson clan, the one who did everything frombefriending Charles Manson to living withFleetwood Mac’s Christine McVie. It turnsout that deep in his heart, Dennis Wilson wasa true believer in the power of love and wasable to create songs of such sophisticationthat many musicians didn’t believe they werehis. Beneath all the headlines of fast cars, wildwomen, and bountiful drugs was a composer,someone who spent endless months in hisBrothers Studio in Santa Monica, chasing themusic in his head even more than he did thehedonistic lifestyle he helped conceive.The first track on Pacific Ocean Blue is “RiverSong,” and for those who listened in ’77 whenit was released, the music felt like a jolt to themind. By then, the Beach Boys were tryingto reinvent themselves with each new album,sometimes with more exciting results thanothers. There were different versions, whetherBrian Wilson was really “back” or not, but itwas obvious the band was being torn in differentdirections. What was amazing aboutPOB was the singular strength of its vision. Itwas like the drummer had been taking nightclasses and suddenly became the star student.His voice may have been shredded aroundthe edges, but the depth of Dennis Wilson’sfeelings was floating right on the surface. Theman who played the drums like he was in themiddle of a bar fight was transformed intosomeone who was ready to take our hand andlead us into the light of love.As the album’s songs progress, they startsounding like the great lost Beach Boys album,one that had been submarined because thesinger wouldn’t behave.Carl, Brian, andsinger Mike Lovemight have formedthe front line, butDennis Wilson wasthe Beach Boy.“You and I,” “Time,”“Dreamer,” “Rainbows,”and “Thoughts of You”could take their placeson any of Brian Wilson’slong-players and holdtheir own. Even when therecordings drift towardan overclutter of players,there’s always a force ofvision that keeps the sound centered andmoving forward. By the end, Pacific OceanBlue stands as a landmark in the Wilson family’shistory, and its lack of success didn’t stopDennis from chasing his California dream.A second album’s worth of songs was started,to be called Bambu, and makes up a seconddisc of the POB reissue. By then, Wilson’svoice was falling victim to continuing abuse,and he couldn’t catch his breath long enoughCONTINUED ON P.5552 T H E A U S T I N C H R O N I C L E AUGUST 1, 2008 a u s t i n c h r o n i c l e . c o m
More ReissuesBY RAOUL HERNANDEZTHE COMPLETEMOTOWNSINGLESVol. 10: 1970(Hip-O Select/Motown)Detroit’s Camelotended Jan. 14,1970, in Las Vegas,when Diana Ross deigned one last performancewith the Supremes. Two years later,when Motown Records huckster Berry Gordy(Antony) relocated his Cleopatra (Ross) to LosAngeles for her close-up, so too went MotorCity’s assembly line of miracles. With TheComplete Motown Singles march on box-sethistory coming to a halt the same year Rossstarred as Billie Holiday in Lady Sings theBlues (1972), this 6-CD cliff-hanger beginswinding down a tale that just won’t quit. Thedizzying, dazzling, star-studded plotline highsof ’64, ’65, ’66, and ’67 have long beenresolved, the greatest hits of the Supremes,Vandellas, Four Tops, and Temptations behindthem, which makes Vol. 10: 1970 all the moreremarkable. Even on a downgrade, Motownproduced Excaliburs. Consider the vinyl 45housed in another hardbound scrapbook ofthe highest grade: “Tears of a Clown,” musicby Stevie Wonder, Pagliacci lyric and vocal byone William “Smokey” Robinson. “The Bells,”from Marvin Gaye-produced protégés theOriginals, then opens a set that never tollsanything less than heartwarming soul, funk,blues, even jazz. And just when you thoughtMartha Reeves had run out of gas, “I ShouldBe Proud” lashes out at her brother beinga Vietnam casualty. Post-Diana Supremes’launching pad “Up the Ladder to the Roof,”Jackson 5 “I Want You Back” response“ABC,” Gladys Knight & the Pips sizzlingNorman Whitfield’s “You Need Love Like I Do(Don’t You)” – there’s no stopping this juggernaut.Marvin and Tammi might be down totheir last layer on “The Onion Song,” but thelashing count-off into the Tempts’ mushroomcloud of psychedelic soul, “Ball of Confusion,”vaporizes any tears. On disc three, Mr.Wonder-full’s “Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I’mYours” posts into Edwin Starr’s perennial“War,” topped by the Spinners’ silken “It’s aShame.” CD four kicks off with Rare Earth’s“(I Know) I’m Losing You,” remembers girlgroups in Yvonne Fair’s “Stay a Little Longer”and even Diana Ross’ pompous “Ain’t NoMountain High Enough,” before doing the reggaewith Bob (not Marley) & Marcia (Griffiths)on “Young, Gifted and Black.” Hard, otherworldlymetallic funk from the Temptations,“Ungena Za Ulimwengu (Unite the World),”leaves no survivors. Hugh Masekela’s VanillaFudge (“You Keep Me Hangin’ On”) and moretrue grit from Gladys Knight (“If I Were YourWoman” b/w “The Tracks of My Tears”) gettop billing on disc five, six coasting home onthe Jackson 5’s effervescent “Santa Claus IsComing to Town.” Christmas in July? You betyour monarchy.KAREN DALTONGreen Rocky Road(Megaphone)Posthumous outputof the Ode Banjo covergirl now doubles hercurrent discographywith this solo set ofbanjo and 12-string acoustic guitar off thesame tape reel as the ancient blues austerityof last year’s 2-CD, Cotton Eyed Joe. Thecold crystal folk of “Katie Cruel,” from 1971sophomore album In My Own Time, hissesequally primordial here, the better part of adecade before either Dalton (1938-1993) studioLP, entrancing on a vocal quaver half BillieHoliday, half Cherokee sharecropper (see “InHer Own Time,” Feb. 8). Time-honored. ELTON JOHNElton John Deluxe Edition(Mercury)ELTON JOHNTumbleweed ConnectionDeluxe Edition (Mercury)Bennie jetted skywardwith 1970’s eponymousdebut and its Tumbleweedfollow-up, the former commercial(“Your Song”), rootsy(“Take Me to the Pilot”),and grandiose (“The King Must Die”), the latterdisguising its sophomore paucity with Band-likeAmericana and stately EJ standards “ComeDown in Time” and “Burn Down the Mission.”A wealth of demos, piano run-throughs, andBBC treats make both “bonus” discs a mainattraction, particularly future faves “Grey Seal”and “Rock and Roll Madonna” on Elton Johnand Tumbleweed’s “Country Comfort.” Highinterest vault yield. (Elton John) (Tumbleweed Connection) BILLY JOELThe Stranger 30thAnniversary Edition(Columbia/Legacy)Taking a long boxfrom Sony’s recentBorn to Run reissue,1977’s similarlystar-making vehicle for this pug-faced LongIsland pianist contextualizes The Stranger’sremastering with a tightly orchestrated audiotriumph that same year at Carnegie Hall(“They’re gonna have to drag me off thisstage”). A DVD unveils 45 “New York Stateof Mind” minutes on The Old Grey WhistleTest, plus the principals documenting the sessions.“Scenes From an Italian Restaurant”as an Abbey Road-cruising suite? “EverybodyHas a Dream.” DIANA ROSS & THE SUPREMESMotown Lost & Found: Let the Music Play:Supreme Rarities (Hip-O Select/Motown)Like Martha Reeves & the Vandellas’precursor Spellbound, this 2-CD set overflowswith Supreme Rarities, 1960-69. FromCONTINUED ON P.55$2.00PRICE REDUCTION*•The Largest CDstore in Austin!•We’ll buy all yourCDs, DVDs, and LPs•Open ‘til midnight•Voted “Best usedCD store” for eightstraight years.WATERLOO VIDEOCLEARANCE SALEEVERY RENTAL VIDEO MUST GO!UNLESS OTHERWISE MARKED...NOWONLY$10 99 $7 99All foreign& classicfilm rentalDVDsNOWONLYWas $12.99 Was $9.99ALL RENTAL DVDs & VHS ON SALE NOW!All multi-disc sets, special editions, director’s cuts, CriterionCollection sets, etc. are sale priced as marked!AUGUST 3rd IS THE LAST DAY TO RENT VIDEOS FROM WATERLOO!WHERE MUSIC STILL MATTERSAll otherfilm rentalDVDsWaterloo Records & Video will be exiting the video rental business thisSunday, Aug. 3rd and closing its video annex store on Sunday, Aug. 24th.DON’T MISS THIS ONCE IN A LIFETIME CHANCE TO BUY DVDs ANDVHS TAPES FROM WATERLOO VIDEO’S RENOWNED RENTAL INVENTORY!*good only on non-sale priced productBUY, SELL& TRADEDVDs, CDs & LPsa u s t i n c h r o n i c l e . c o m AUGUST 1, 2008 T H E A U S T I N C H R O N I C L E 53
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Aug. 1, 2008 - The Austin Chronicle

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