Delightful he may be to listen to, Brian Wilson did not embody the serene imagery found on the cover of Orange Crate Art. After he was kicked out of The Beach Boys, he spent much of his solo career re-recording hit songs, sampling his hits in the 1960s, and writing under the watchful eye of Dr. Eugene Landy. It’s impossible to talk about much of Wilson’s solo output without mentioning his therapist. He had a writing credit on Smart Girls and even fancied himself as a producer, too. It was a massive overstep, one of many and one of the more minor ones, with the bigger picture in mind. Whatever the case, it seems Wilson has little love for what is an essential listen. Orange Crate Art is delightful. It’s that shelter from the storm the Pet Sounds hitmaker had been looking for. It sounds frankly absolved of the time it was written as Wilson reconnects with his influences and brings a lighter touch after some real darkness.
Working with Van Dyke Parks is a huge help to Orange Crate Art. Charming the whole way through, that’s what Wilson and Parks are capable of here. Orange Crate Art has that lighter whimsy to it which won’t quite work for everyone, but it’s a stark contrast to the messy solo albums before it. Enjoyable all the same, but it’s heartwarming to hear Wilson create with a much clearer focus than he had been afforded in the 1980s. Sail Away is as strong a song as anything featured on Smile, for instance. Wilson is guided well by Parks and the lighter instrumental flourish, that Beach Boys-adjacent sound, has a classiness to it which still stands tall today. Orange Crate Art may sound as though it’s coasting off of that, but if it does then rightly so. Wilson had spent decades trying to prove Pet Sounds was the future of his and the band’s sound, and when they rejected that, they failed to put out anything else of that standard, bar Surf’s Up.
Here is Wilson justifying his creative process, and it sounds blissful. Not every track is a winner but the harmonising and instrumental sincerity on My Hobo Heart keeps the honesty of Orange Crate Art intact. Floaty, lovely pieces of work like Palm Tree and Moon are not just strong standalone tracks, but examples of what Wilson could still do. There’s an argument to be made of his peak being twenty years before the release of this album, but that’s far from the truth. Personal circumstances are what makes for the shoddier studio work with The Beach Boys. Orange Crate Art has Wilson flourish with the fundamentals of The Beach Boys’ sound, just left to his own devices rather than having to give in to creative control here or there. Charming baroque tones are the focus of this album, and Wilson brings out the best of that on songs like Summer in Monterey.
Much of the writing is light, extremely so at points, but Wilson has always operated well in that space. Surrealist intent, sincerity in action. It’s what puts together the best of his works, and a lot of that quality can be found here. San Francisco highlights this well, a few instrumental thrills to be had with the saxophone and baroque focus that comes through. Hold Back Time has such an emotionally wonderful scope to it, once more the effectiveness is in the emotional overlap. Wilson sounds magnificent here, and the flourishing, often liberated instrumentals, those moments where string sections are thrown into place for instance, are a chance to hear the thrill of a creative pursuit. No definite success has to be at the end of that process; it just happens to be there often enough to make Orange Crate Art a real gem of an album.
