Bouncing back from what turned out to be a horrendously expensive tour for the Friends album, The Beach Boys turned to reliable old sounds. But what had been exciting for pop-rock radio in the early 1960s was now, as it had been at the time, limited in its influence. When you release an album like Pet Sounds, you cannot go back to trying to have fun in the sun. 20/20 is a blur of trying to get back into the groove of the thrill-seeking, safety-first attitude, but with a flicker of that experimental sound. That would be all the band could offer on the rest of their releases. Brief flutters with what made their music, for an album, monumental. They would return to those socially and culturally relevant pieces in the years to come, but getting there meant slogging through 20/20. There are some bright sparks within.
Where opener Do It Again may present the same faux camaraderie as their earliest works, the forced studio chatter of Beach Boys’ Party! screeching back into memory like repressed embarrassment, what follows is strong work. Second track I Can Hear Music is not just a stylish, end-of-the-60s thrill, but confirmation of your hearing. Those who cannot hear the music are not missing much here. 20/20 is based on the notion that listeners wanted to hear The Beach Boys have fun without the sun. The severing of that gorgeous weather means the band are not strapped solely to colloquial or location-based songs and can instead interject some broader strokes of what they believe is fun. Reminiscent moments which skip over the band’s defining album. That is what 20/20 offers. The Beach Boys are in no short supply of stunning moments on 20/20, though those parts come from the band daring to challenge their popular, recognisable sound.
Beautiful options like Be With Me are tucked away on the album. Masterful percussion feeds into this sense of grandeur, a surprise liberation which comes from the band’s best songs. But for all those moments of blissful instrumentation, there is an equal set of rock-chasing failures. All I Want to Do is a rough attempt at piercing the blowout of instrumental mess, which would be popularised in the 1970s. To the other extreme, on the very next song, The Nearest Faraway is the band’s attempt to insert themselves into softer folk and baroque-like workings. It would work in isolation, but as the comedown to a rocked-out and relatively light song, it flounders. The B-side fares just the same, though some niceness can be found in the floaty appeal of Time to Get Alone.
Those songs towards the end of the album blur together, but there is some comfort to take from that. Having them come together like some accidental Medley section from Abbey Road is rather sweet. It is not the intention, nor is it comparable, but the easy-going flow of 20/20 on the B-Side is sweet. Our Prayer is an attempt at making that religious experience a reality through harmonisation, and The Beach Boys get close. Not close enough, though, not enough for it, or the rest of the second half of the album, to stand out. One perfect moment amid a very enjoyable collection of songs, which features the band leaping from one extreme to the next. A genre-blurring experience this is not. 20/20 is a messy piece of work, but part of the charm which comes from this album is thanks to that blur.
