CONCERT REVIEW: THE BEACH BOYS - Sheperds Bush Empire, London
Sunday November 14th - by peta-deluxe guest writer Nick Morgan

God only knows what I’m doing here. I’m in the Gents dressed in a Hawaiian shirt amiably talking prostates with a total stranger. In the hallway outside the bouncers are so bored they’re fighting amongst themselves. Downstairs the St John’s Ambulance Brigade are doing a brisk trade in oxygen masks and fibrillators. On the stage the Beach Boys (or at least two of them), Mike Love (who looked as though he had forgotten to take off his bedroom slippers) and Bruce Johnston (not an original BB – but he joined the band when Brian Wilson gave up touring in the mid 1960s), with what turn out to be a band of highly accomplished musicians and vocalists, are churning out a tidal wave of surfin’ hits.
In case you’ve forgotten the Beach Boys is a story of Heroes and Villains. On the side of the angels is Bonkers Brian Wilson, the singing studio wizard who famously wrote the tunes in his room, and then lost it all somewhere between the Beatles’ Revolver and Sgt Pepper. Turning to a cask strength cocktail of narcotics he became one of the most publicised of all rock recluses until his return in recent years with a string of what were at first almost embarrassing concerts, and latterly with his release of the lionised Smile – or at least some of the songs from Smile – the great lost album of 1960’s rock.