![]() When I finally listened to Pet Sounds, I was astonished and thrilled when I loved it. ![]() ![]() Shimmering at the centre was God Only Knows – a pop hymn that still sounds akin to wings ripped from an angel Growing up in a council house in Rutland, churning out music fanzines, eventually squatting in London, the closest I was getting to beach culture was listening to Dead Kennedys’ California Über Alles. For me, The Beach Boys (California Girls, I Get Around, Good Vibrations) evoked sun, sea, sand, and faraway west coast Americana. It didn’t matter that Pet Sounds was influential, regularly dominating “greatest albums of all time” lists. To me, Beach Boy supremo Brian Wilson, his brothers Dennis and Carl, cousin Mike Love, Bruce Johnston and Al Jardine, resembled Richie’s friends in Happy Days. In the late 1980s, I spent most of my late teens and early 20s in a massive cultural sulk because I’d missed out on punk, perfecting a “look” midway between Nosferatu and Catweazle. Pet Sounds: released Photograph: Capitol RecordsĪt first, I wasn’t remotely interested in listening to the Beach Boys’ 11th album, Pet Sounds.
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