The Beach Boys - "Why Do Fools Fall In Love?" (1964)

It’s way too easy to overlook this Beach Boys track. It was recorded for the first of four Beach Boys albums released in 1964 and was handily overshadowed by the genius of Pet Sounds and the SMiLE sessions. It even gets lost among the other tracks on Shut Down, Vol. II. How can it compete against songs like “Don’t Worry, Baby” or “The Warmth of The Sun”? Who would think that such a powerful song would be wedged between such middle of the album filler as “This Car of Mine” and “Pom Pom Playgirl”? All these factors may make “Why Do Fools Fall In Love?” easy to overlook, but you’d be cheating yourself if you didn’t give it a solid listen.

The production immediately grabs you. It’s no secret that Brian Wilson’s production style was heavily informed by the work of Phil Spector, but this song sounds so close, it’s almost plagiarism. You can tell from the highly reverberated snare hit that kick starts the song that this is a direct descendant of the wall of sound. If that isn’t enough to convince you, the jangling tambourine and rolling acoustic guitars should change your opinion.

All of this is not to say that the song is derivative, though; on the contrary, Wilson plays with the format that Spector perfected. Tradition dictates that after the second verse, some awful Baritone Sax has to take over with an unnecessary solo. Wilson correctly thought it would be wiser to bury the horns in the mix. The listener’s left hanging for a good three measures, wondering why the song feels so empty, when the Beach Boys suddenly jump back in with their famous five-part harmonies. They even add a slight key modulation not found in Frankie Lymon’s original, for an added bonus.

The Beach Boys, like most other bands from the early 60s, had their share of missteps. Their covers of 50s hits songs like “Do You Wanna Dance?” and “Louie, Louie” immediately spring to mind as perfect examples. At face value, this might look like it’s cut from the same mold as those two, but don’t be...well...fooled – “Why Do Fools Fall In Love?” presents the Beach Boys on the verge of something big, taking their influence from the past and synthesizing it with the sound of the present to make the music destined to shape the future of pop.

Youtube Link: The Beach Boys - Why Do Fools Fall In Love?

Chad and Jeremy - "I'm In Love Again" (1965)

When it comes to creepy songs, they just don’t make ‘em like they used to. What mainstream songs pass for creepy these days? ICP? R. Kelly? That’s absolutely nothing compared to Gary Pucket or Serge Gainsbourg. Even the wholesome artists of yore naively slipped into darker territory every now and then: Stevie Wonder comes off as a stalker on My Cherie Amour (“In a cafe or sometimes on a crowded street / I've been near you, but you never notice me.”) and Brian Wilson sounds a tad incestuous when giving advice to his sister’s boyfriend on “Don’t Hurt My Little Sister” (“Why don’t you love her / like her big brother?”).

But Pucket’s pedophilia or Stevie’s stalking doesn’t really compare to the ironically or otherwise accidentally disturbing songs from the 60s. Usually, these are AM Gold tracks by artists like Sergio Mendes or The Association. These are tracks so sincere that they sound as if the artist’s trying to slip you a sonic love knife. Hollywood’s used such songs to add an edge to a number of big budget horror movies (off the top of my head, 1408 borrows “We’ve Only Just Begun” by the Carpenters and Final Destination 3 uses The Vogues’ “Turn Around, Look At Me”), but the songs don’t need a scary atmosphere to do the trick. Case in point? Within seconds of playing Chad and Jeremy’s “I’m In Love Again” for a friend, he immediately shot me a confused look and said, “You know this is psycho killer music, right?”

The song seems innocuous enough. It’s a warm, 60s pop ballad about love. Sure, these gents are a bit melodramatic at times, but most songs from this era are, yeah? The thing that rubs me the wrong way about this song is the diction. They openly admit they “can’t help [themselves],” and the delivery on “Can’t you see / I’m more than just a friend” sounds as if they’re trying too hard to convince this girl that she should love them. I see it as the kid in sweatpants that sat behind you in Chemistry class who told you that marriage was in your future after you let him borrow a sheet of paper. The lines “Never mind / the other girls I left behind / One look at you, and now I find / I can’t live without you” seems a bit ominous, too. Are you picturing a pile of murdered ex-girlfriends piled up in Jeremy Clyde’s basement? Maybe I’m alone on that one.

I’d be lying if I said my only appreciation of the song was based around this offbeat interpretation of the lyrics. There’s a reason that this group had a string of hits in the early 60’s: they’ve got amazing voices backed by Chad Stuart’s brilliant arrangements.

Also, they truly understand how to shape a pop song. There are a number of elements (the strings, horns, acoustic guitar, drums, vocals), and each is given its moment to shine without having to struggle to get your attention. The guitar run at 1:01 is a perfect example: it’s squeezed into a tight little space just at the end of the verse, but it doesn’t sound forced or thrown away. It’s a wonderful display of musicianship that helps to calm the song down from the almost bombastic chorus to the sedated verse.

So is this song the next Catcher In The Rye? Will this song end up on the iPods of future high-profile assassins? I hope that this song doesn’t actually become the stuff of psycho killing, but if it does, I’ll have to commend those killers for having such good musical taste.

YouTube Link: Chad And Jeremy - I'm In Love Again