The Beach Boys Story on BBC 6 Music: Surfing the airwaves

While there are those who will tell you that <em>Pet Sounds</em> is one of the most influential records of all time, the Beach Boys could be proper tedious.

The Beach Boys Story
BBC 6 Music

A six-hour series on the Beach Boys incorporating broadcast material both old and new (8-13 June, 4am) was so detailed, it sounded like an amorous and occasionally neurotic letter of persuasion to doubters, even giving us a precis of what surfing is. “A watersport where the participant stands on a floating piece of wood shaped like an ironing board.” Got it.

Then, of course, the archive monologues by wives of the band (“Well, one day Brian spilled hot chocolate on me”) and their husbands (“So we bumped into each other at a hamburger stand and someone said Mike can sing pretty good and then there’s Dennis, too – Dennis was always up for anything – and later we went round to Carl’s and he said . . .”)

While there are those who will tell you that Pet Sounds is one of the most influential records of all time, and there can be no denying that, around the age of 33, the sandybearded Dennis Wilson was the kind of sexy you feel in your bones – I’m talking actually feeling someone’s charisma neuralgically – still the Beach Boys could be proper tedious. Their song about root beer goes: “Root beer, oh root beer./ Root beer, oh root beer./ Root beer is my best buy./Cold beer, root beer, here a mug, there a mug, everybody chug-a-lug . . .” It’s only an early number, but Christ. And Mike Love sued Brian in the 1990s for leaving his name off the writing credits!

There’s a great story about BW going to see the bosses at Capital Records after they objected to any songs from the band that were not about root beer or surfing, and he showed up with a tape player with eight prerecorded, looped responses including “No comment” and “Can you repeat that?”. Refusing to utter a word, he played the various tapes when appropriate.

You can hear precisely that kind of pernickitiness coming through in “God Only Knows”, roundly accepted as one of the most romantic songs committed to vinyl. “If you should ever leave me/though life would still go on, believe me/the world could show nothing to me . . .” Hold on. Is it just me or does that not sound like mealy-mouthed nitpicking, or weirdly inappro priate small print, given the moment and the presence of an at-the-time groundbreaking number of 23 backing musicians? Life would still go on, believe me. And so defensive to boot! Give me “Here, There and Everywhere” any day.

The Beach Boys' Al Jardine and Brian Johnston performing in 1966. Photograph: Getty Images

Antonia Quirke is an author and journalist. She is a presenter on The Film Programme and Pick of the Week (Radio 4) and Film 2015 and The One Show (BBC 1). She writes a column on radio for the New Statesman.

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“The Hole-Up”: a poem by Matthew Sweeney

“You could taste the raw / seagull you’d killed and plucked, / the mussels you’d dug from sand, / the jellyfish that wobbled in your / hands as you slobbered it.”

Lying on your mouth and nose
on the hot sand, you recall
a trip in a boat to the island –
the fat rats that skittered about
after god-knows-what dinner,
the chubby seals staring up,
the sudden realisation that a man
on the run had wintered there
while the soldiers scoured
the entire shoreline to no avail –
you knew now you had been him
out there. You could taste the raw
seagull you’d killed and plucked,
the mussels you’d dug from sand,
the jellyfish that wobbled in your
hands as you slobbered it.
You saw again that first flame
those rubbed stones woke in
the driftwood pile, and that rat
you grilled on a spar and found
delicious. Yes, you’d been that man,
and you had to admit now you
missed that time, that life,
though you were very glad you
had no memory of how it ended.


Matthew Sweeney’s Black Moon was shortlisted for the 2007 T S Eliot Prize. His latest collection is Inquisition Lane (Bloodaxe).

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt