Cities Made of Song, 1966 - God Only Knows by the Beach Boys
I agonized for a long time over this one before eventually conking myself in the head to stop myself thinking in circles. Of course it was going to be God Only Knows. What else could it be?
This is something of an overdue appearance from the other big 'B' of the 60s, the Beach Boys. It wasn't until late in my teens that I understood the fuss about these guys, as my first impressions were that they were chiefly responsible for stuff like Surfin' U.S.A. and other light pop hits. Suffice it to say that when I finally pulled my head out of the dirt and gave "Pet Sounds" a proper listen, my little mind was blown. I'm only being a little hyperbolic when I call it one of the best albums of all time; it is one of the few records that was ultimately responsible for turning me onto the world of music.
Like many contemporary bands, the Beach Boys matured rapidly with the procession of the 1960s, and by the time of "Pet Sounds" had already achieved a series of increasingly complex and well-written hits, eventually culminating with this particular sonic masterpiece. I could talk about a lot of this album's tracks, but as is my established pattern, I can't be so indiscriminate. It's not Cities Made of Songs now, is it?
God Only Knows makes me feel a lot of things. It's a melancholy love song; "I may not always love you" is an uncommonly negative note to start a pop song off on, but wow, does it ever work. It even manages to sound strangely hopeful in spite of this somber line. It's a step up from the endless legions of pop songs promising eternal love, which it must be said do get boring at times... Apparently this sense of negativity and uncertainty was a source of apprehension to Tony Asher when he and Brian Wilson wrote the song, as was the inclusion of God in the title. It's almost quaint how mentioning the Almighty in a song title would have been considered risky, considering that my favorite genre (heavy metal, natch) gets away with the most hilariously vulgar titles imaginable in this day and age. It really was a different world back then.
Thematically, this is a song about moving on, despite how much you may love someone or something. It's appropriate at the present juncture, as the dawn of 1967 both marks a dramatic cultural awakening in the real world as well as a continued evolution of the TV show whose life I'm tracking. So it's not just beautiful by its own merits, it's poignant in the present context as well.
That's all for today. The Underwater Menace is next.
(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 20 May 2020.)
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