University of Virginia Library

Fancy Equipment

The break between shows lasted
an hour, but folks here at the
University are used to such minor
inconveniences, and after all those
boys sure were setting up a lot of
fancy equipment. The Byrds had
been great and things were looking
up.

The Beach Boys came out and
everybody was on their feet. They
finally got us calmed down and
started playing. But what were they
playing? How can they expect me
to listen to their beautiful sounds
while I'm frothing at the mouth to
hear about a Big Wave? Then a
Hollywood voice came over the
P.A. from somewhere and in words
that sounded for all the world like a
taped M.C., assured us that the
Beach Boys would give a two-part
show at the end of which they
would take requests from the
crowd. Well, OK. I'd much rather
have them do my thing first, but
Gee Whiz, I suppose I can handle it.

Things went well for about
fifteen minutes until someone high
on the west side of the hall
(uncomfortable seat section) yelled
something derogatory like "Play
Barbara Ann". For some reason
that stopped right in the middle of
Mike Love's head and he walked up
to a microphone and gave out some
very bad vibrations. My party
hadn't done anything to him and
we were somewhat discomforted
but were willing to let it go at that.
The Beach Boys were not.

For the remainder of the evening
they picked on themselves and the
crowd. They called themselves
"The Beach Bums"; they
introduced songs with long
awkward pauses and such
interesting comments as "My wife
left me two weeks ago" and "we
put my grandpa away last week"
and "This is a very special song. I'll
probably....fuck it up". It's not too
much fun listening to a song when
the Man says he's gonna fuck it up.
And what kind of anger was Mike
Love venting when he stopped a
song he was about to begin and
recited a poem about meditation
expressly because the crowd was
clamoring for big hits. I suppose the
Maharishi is really going to dig that.