By Claudio Vernight
In 1961 the Beach Boys started out with three Wilson brothers, a cousin (Mik Love) and a friend (Al Jardine.) And they pulled off great shows, became an international presence as well as becoming part of the national fabric with only two guitars, a bass, drums and keyboards. And those five voices.
They arrived at the venerable, sold-out theater at the top of Vermont Avenue with fourteen people on stage. That included five guitarists, two keyboardists, a bass, drummer and full four-horn section complement. And everyone sang. Including John Stamos whom they seemed to feel a great need to include. More about him later.
What we were left with was a Beach Boy Tribute Band fronted by two aging members, Bruce Johnston (82) and Mike Love (83.) Being from the "oldies world" in the doo wop group, The Earls, I saw this continually in the 80's and 90's, group members getting so old they could barely sing or play, supported by young bucks who did a better job than they could have.
The irony was evident at the outset when the show started with a well-produced retrospective video that electrified the crowd. But with the opening bars of the show opener, "Do It Again," we were wishing for that video again. Someone should tell Mike Love to warm up before the show. He was so sour and off-key it was cringe-worthy. Luckily by the fourth song his voice opened up and he could muster staying in tune.
To their huge credit, they performed for two hours, 44 songs, with a twenty-minute intermission. And the hits kept coming. One after another. They even found time to fit in a cover of the Ramones' "Rockaway Beach," a surf-metal song if there ever was one. They were repaying the Ramones for their cover of "Surfin' Safari," again, another surf-metal classic.
Why they need John Stamos on stage could only be written off to ticket sales and publicity. Each time his name was mentioned, the crowd roared. I suppose most were Full House fans. Stamos pranced around with a guitar around his neck and was part of the din of background voices. He did play the drums on several songs, not necessarily show-stopping, and even a solo (really? a drum solo?) He seemed to be filling the Johnny Depp role of the Hollywood star who wanted to be a rocker.
The show actually belonged to their musical director, Brian Eichenberger, a former Four Freshman vocalist. A quick read of their touring Wikipedia page shows that musicians come and go with a revolving door (for the last sixty years.) Whatever the case, Eichenberger was THE sound of the Boys last night, using his clear, strong falsetto to pull the night together. In "Surfer Girl," "Don't Worry Baby" and "I Get Around," during the first half, his searing high notes made all the old doddering on stage worthwhile. And "California Girls," "Help Me, Rhonda," "Barbara Ann," and of course, "Good Vibrations," all were bona fide Beach Boy hits because of him. "Fun, Fun, Fun," closed the show and what more could you ask for?
I get it. Dennis, Carl, Al Jardine and Brian are no longer available. The first two are gone. Maybe that's part of the problem. Maybe the natural group who started it all had a dynamism that was self-evident. I've been in bands. They fight. They break up. Acrimony is the norm rather than the exception. And as Aesop so famously said, "Familiarity breeds contempt.
I saw the 1969 version of the band at the Fordham University gym and that was glorious. Five guys on stage in surf clothes with bushy, bushy blond hair-dos, twangy Fender guitars and angelic harmonies. No back up musicians. They played their hits and even in that echoey gymnasium, brought the house down.
I still have those memories.
Believe me, I love the Beach Boys. I still have all of their Capitol albums. And they did manage to bring a lot of nostalgia alive to the show. But something tells me that I witnessed one of the last tours of these old relics.
I still have my albums.