It’s almost impossible lately to read about
recorded music without coming across the idea of the pop composer’s main instrument
being the recording studio. Art- Pop and modern recording have been intertwined sciences since their
conception. The studio as an instrument itself and in particular the
music it is capable of making is the result of a dialogue between many artists and
technicians that took the better part of the last century to develop. There are
countless records to encounter in the pursuit of this dialogue, and many of us
search record bins and internet forums to find great lost sentences that might
put the whole conversation into perspective. That’s where I found Discover America last summer, and when I
gave it my first spin and read the credits on the sleeve I knew I was holding
something I didn’t fully understand;
some kind of unique and distilled conception of that idea, some kind of
lost transmission. What I was holding was the result of a rather complicated
web of events; it was a conclusion of some aspect of that great dialogue. And
though it would take exhaustive detail to explain its many levels and the
anecdotes of its creation which lend it its charm in light of the upcoming
re-issue I thought I’d try and give a more thorough examination of its story
and contents then it received in either its original Rolling Stone review, or even its most recent blurb in this month’s
edition of Mojo or Uncut, 40 years later. In its way Discover America is Ulysses in
sound standing somewhere between Pepper and
Trout Mask Replica, yet distantly
removed from either.
Less than a year after completing his
education in music from the Carnegie Institute and the University of
Pennsylvania Parks was signed to MGM in the early ‘60’s. He spent that
formative time releasing a few singles and gaining arrangement and writing
credits on a score of minor hits (including 'The Bare Necessities'), most of which have been wonderfully collected
on the recent Arrangements, Vol. 1
compilation on his own Bananastan imprint. It was during this time that he and
Brian Wilson became acquainted. This is where two rather complicated stories
collide in an enchanting and engaging way. Brian Wilson the post-Pet Sounds chart conqueror and Van Dyke Parks, pop wunder
kin ,team up to create a musical legend; SMiLE,
the album that never was.
SMiLE, widely bootlegged and
recently officially released, was a watershed of many musical ideas coming to
fruition toward the end of the 1960’s, and it's an album of such melodic grace and avant- complexity it makes one stop and think
“oh, good point, why weren’t Revolution 9 and Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da the same song?”
and deserves more credit that it can receive here. But with it Brian Wilson and
his lyricist and- one would suppose - backseat arranger, Van Dyke Parks, had
created a dense, gleefully satirical, and sophisticated album lush with
technical perfection and emotional honesty.
And the unfortunate truth is they may have been better off had they not.
While Brian Wilson retreated from the public eye, SMiLE catapulted Van Dyke Parks from a talented arranger and
songwriter to a pop music force, or at least it would have had he not been
caught under its shadow.
Van Dyke Parks received quite an
honor in 1967 when Warner Brothers financed his creation of one of the most
expensive albums in their history- his debut Song Cycle. And Warner Brothers received quite the let down when
they, almost literally, couldn’t give it away. They even went out of their way
to place advertisements stating that the album wasn’t selling and would
probably go over your head. The then still learning to crawl Rolling Stone consistently faulted Parks
for his overly academic and almost obtuse lyrical content and song structure.
Parks being a well-educated and frustrating man he often confounded his
audience with abstract juxtapositions. He often spoke riddles in his
interviews, which probably lends a hand to his detractors. Looking back on it,
the SMiLE outtake ‘He Gives Speeches’
sums up fairly well what Parks' may have been thinking to himself at this later
point in time. It was a touchy time for Parks. He resigned his position at
Warner Brothers and began to produce and arrange for what were at the time
novelty acts. He mentioned in a separate interview in 1970 for Rolling Stone
that what he wanted to do next was travel America; it seems that this would
become an obsession for him and America is probably the better for it.
Discover America, as Lindsay Planer of AMG so
succinctly understated it: “is a pop music history lesson that is without
question one of the lost classics of the early '70s”.and he goes on to say that
“[it was] easily… several decades ahead of its time”. Rolling Stone credited it’s
clarity of vision and complete sonic pleasure to the involvement of anyone
except Van Dyke Parks. Parks, it would seem, had knack for that kind of divisiveness.
Van Dyke Parks’ second album, released in August of 1972 some 5 years after Song
Cycle, is something else entirely. Whereas Song Cycle was an intricate
orchestral chamber pop record, filled with Parks' unique brand of lyricism and
melodic innovation, Discover America is a different animal. Many of
the songs are public-domain calypso tunes from Trinidad and Tobago and the rest
of the record is filled with selections reminiscent of the Great American
Songbook. However, Parks’ stamp is firmly placed throughout them. They are not covers
or versions of the songs; they are re-inventions through Parks' own musical
vision. Each beat falls perfectly in its place, yet somehow its ‘place’ is wherever
Parks’ tells it to be (for an example skip straight to his reworking of the
Allen Toussaint classic 'Occapella')
The album can be played over and
over again as sort of an endless loop with the beginning and the end of the
record creating an oddly experimental yet soothing mood. It isn’t until 'Bing Crosby', a
terrific song in honor of the great vocalist and the third track on the album,
that Parks’ musical arrangement and voice can be heard. Throughout the record Parks’ throws hooks
from Tin Pan Alley tunes into the arrangements yet expresses them using his
adapted calypso format. “Music is the place, but it’s hell to keep up the pace
with the bass” ends one song (‘Steelband Music’) and the following track (album
highlight ‘The Four Mill’s Brothers') beginnings with double bass and cello in a
stomp. Soon enough you’re caught in the picnic whistle of a song that the
sardonic lullaby of ‘Be Careful’ turns into in Parks’ hands. As you’re lost in
the steel drum and string combination that lies at the heart of this record you’re
abruptly nudged by the rhythmic pulse of the great rocksteady/ska hit ‘John
Jones’ that Parks’ turns into the aural equivalent of having a cigar on a boat. That’s
how Parks’ must’ve intended the listening experience of this set of songs,
abrupt shifts into only slight variations of the rather unique sound, he must’ve known on
some level that he could walk a tightrope in that studio.
