An album cover that will be familiar to Mario Kart: DS players, The Beach Boys’ Love You is a touching crochet offering. Their musical style could not be any different than the album cover. An opening song which will make your heart vibrate, though that may be the triple bill of coffees flowing through, dropping off at the heart on the way to attacking the brain. Whatever the case, Love You has a brilliant style which the band had simply lost after Surf’s Up. A heavy synthpop reliance has The Beach Boys sounding closer to Sparks than their pop-chasing sound of the 1960s. An ambitious next step for the band can be heard on Love You, though it would mark the final album from the band worth hearing. Even then there’s a few unremarkable moments. Whenever those pop up, and they do often, just remember The Beach Boys love you.
They’re so infatuated, in fact, that a song like Let Us Go On This Way may appear at any time. It’s a sound which suits the band, a natural progression of their style which walks the very fine line of poor writing and brilliant instrumentals. That softer, surfer thrills rock which the band established themselves with, is still skirting around the edges of Love You. Songs of love and nothing more. Roller Skating Child is a troublesome listen, even if the sentiment of the times is preserved. A bit trivial, a bit terrifying, too. Short and sweet songs are still the definite route through studio works, though the revolving door of lead singers keeps a steady flow. Dennis Wilson offers one of several high points, his hoarse sound on Mona not quite stretched to its potential. But that’s a fault of the writing; a primitive and often harmless sentimentality washes the album of any potential commentaries. Surf’s Up was all the better for those, but Love You fears the impact it could have on the band.
Part of that may also be because of Love You originating as a Brian Wilson project. Let Us Go On This Way and Mona are signs of that touching, contemplative project. Johnny Carson and Airplane are the other extreme, trivial and comedy-adjacent writings, just without the jokes. Pathetic, hand-wringing bits of talk show host praise and travelling to nowhere. Love You is lopsided, mainly because the band’s infighting is still at play. Those loved-up songs like Good Time and Ding Dang, while the point of the album, also limit it tremendously. Worst of all is Honkin’ Down the Highway, a regression which rips The Beach Boys’ spirit and influence, returning them to those car-obsessed days in the early 1960s. Miserable stuff because of how primitive it sounds, and how lacklustre it remains. No instrumental change can fix that, with plain lyrics of love and longing.
A shame to waste such strong synth work, but there you have it. Moments of interest spread across fourteen songs. Never is there a moment where it all comes together for The Beach Boys. Harmonising woes, which worked fifteen years before this album, with a synthpop sound getting more dated as the years go by. Get it listened to now, before those machinery-reliant high points are reduced any more in quality. It’s not advancements in the genre which makes it dated, just the passage of time, the simple message to each song. It is not enough to profess love. A why must be shared, the how, the little flickers of life which bring a song to life. None of that features on Love You. From planetary silliness on Solar System to the song without an end, I’ll Bet He’s Nice. Love may be reciprocated for The Beach Boys, but not because of Love You.
