Yahoo! Music Album Review

Released on 01/09/08
Label: EMI

It may seem excessive but perhaps we should call this a minor miracle. Not many would have predicted Brian Wilson's phoenix-like resurgence in the early part of the decade, first with the live "Pet Sounds" performances, and then resurrecting and completing The Beach Boys' seemingly forever lost 1967 album "Smile", entirely re-recording it as a solo project with help of main Wondermint Darian Sahanaja and his power-pop cohorts.

With that Wilson seemed to have breathed his creative last. A so-so collection of new material, "Gettin' In Over My Head", had preceded "Smile" by a matter of months, followed by a 2005 Christmas album that did little to rival the West Coast pop legends' own 1964 yuletide offering.

As Wilson turns 66, he's put together a song-cycle that, once again with the help of Sahanaja and co, recalls The Beach Boys' highs, while celebrating the remarkable life of a man once set to become one of rock's most tragic casualties. Composed of entirely new material (besides from the 1949 title track woven in throughout) and originally commissioned for performance at the Royal Festival Hall - the scene of "Smile"'s stunning live debut - earlier this year, "That Lucky Old Sun" sees Wilson looking back over his beloved California and where his life has led him.

Beach Boys acolytes will revel in playing spot-the-reference. The obvious sees "Forever She'll Be My Surfer Girl" name-check 1963's "Surfer Girl" single, while for the most part there are a slew of post-"Smile" musical and vocal motifs recalling the likes of "Cool Cool Water". Meanwhile, "Midnight's Another Day", Wilson's most naked, reflective moment and the album's masterpiece, comes across as a mix of "Sail On, Sailor" and "Surf's Up" for the older, wiser, more at peace Brian.

Van Dyke Parks, lyricist for those infamous "Smile" sessions, returns with his continued ability to express Brian's feelings better than anyone else. While you can take or leave the spoken-word narrative interjections, the likes of "Oxygen To The Brain"'s "How could I have got so low? / I'm embarrassed to tell you so / I laid around this old place / I hardly ever washed my face" see Wilson at his most confessional. It's no "Columnated ruins domino", but then we're not smoking dope in a sandpit in our front room either.

This might ultimately be an album that barely leaves the late '60s, but for Wilson it's a definite push to regain his creativity. Not only an opportunity to look back, then, but a joyous reminder that, when at his lowest, Brian Wilson stepped up and did the unthinkable.

    by Jason Draper