Before The Beach Boys come on stage tonight, there is a montage of all the times their songs have been used in popular culture.
Frankly, it could have gone on all night.
Every single song here is verging on a classic. We all know them. You have grown up with them. You love them. There are barely people in the world who would not know at least some of the songs played here tonight, and that is why The Beach Boys can legitimately claim to be America’s band.
Wouldn’t it be nice, then, when they do appear, if it was as simple as that?
But this is The Beach Boys in 2026, and there is no getting away from the elephant in the room. Mike Love is 85. He is a legend, of course he is. Along with his cousin Brian Wilson and the others, he was part of something that changed music forever. But Love’s voice, let’s be honest, is not great these days. Let’s call it sub-optimal and leave it there.
That means “Do It Again” is a slightly awkward beginning, but almost immediately there is the other side of the argument. “Surfin’ Safari” has harmonies that are magnificent. “Catch A Wave” is better still, and when they do “Rockaway Beach” by the Ramones, there is a lovely sense of them getting their own back for all the times the Ramones nodded towards them. Musically, it is superb.
This current incarnation is led by Love, but it is Brian Eichenberger, the musical director, Christian Love, Tim Bonhomme, Jon Bolton, Keith Hubacher, Randy Leago, John Wedemeyer and Chris Cron who do so much of the heavy lifting. That is not a criticism, either. They are brilliant players, and they clearly understand the responsibility of these songs.
“Surfin’ U.S.A.” comes with a reminder on the big screen of what they were: young, handsome, sun-kissed and impossibly fresh. “Surfer Girl” has Love sitting down as phone lights shine around the room, and by “I Can Hear Music” he is at the back while Eichenberger and the band effectively become the most spectacular Beach Boys tribute act you could imagine.
That is not meant as an insult.Because they are brilliant at it. “Cotton Fields” by arguably America’s other band gives drummer Jon Bolton a turn on vocals, “You’re So Good To Me” sees the band strut a little as everyone gets their moment, and “Darlin’” is delivered with harmonies so perfect that for a moment you forget
“In My Room” is simply gorgeous. “Don’t Worry Baby” is one of those songs that everyone knows, and it washes over the room like a warm breeze. “Little Deuce Coupe” brings Love back, and bless his cotton socks, he probably should have stayed sitting down, but despite yourself “409” and “Shut Down” are impossible to resist. Hot rods, girls, sunshine, choruses. The whole Beach Boys world in miniature.
“I Get Around” closes the first set, and Love puts absolutely everything he has into it.
The second half is, in large part, a celebration of “Pet Sounds”, and before it really begins there is a video tribute to Brian Wilson. Wilson’s genius is the reason so much of this music still feels beautiful and strange six decades later.
Christian Love sings “God Only Knows”. That is a brave thing to do, because you do not mess with one of the greatest songs ever written unless you are sure. To his credit, he does it beautifully.
“Caroline, No” follows, and credit to them for not simply doing things in order. “You Still Believe In Me” and “I’m Waiting For The Day” underline something that is easy to forget amid all the questions about authenticity: this band is incredibly talented. The playing is wonderful throughout, and the arrangements are handled with care.
“Sloop John B” gets Love back off his chair, while “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” is basically pop perfection. It always was. It always will be. “Sail On, Sailor” is a mere 52 years old but somehow still sounds fresh, and “California Dreamin’” sits neatly in the set before “California Girls” arrives with another blast of pure pop perfection.
By “Help Me, Rhonda”, Love has disappeared again and the room feels like a party. “Do You Wanna Dance?” turns them into an old-style show band, but there is nothing wrong with that when the songs are this good and the playing is this sharp.
Then, oddly enough, they find one Love can really do. “Good Vibrations” gives a glimpse of the trippy excellence at the heart of The Beach Boys, with Randy Leago’s flute going beautifully mad and the whole thing lifting. “Kokomo” still sounds insanely catchy, “Barbara Ann” is another copper-bottom classic, and “Fun, Fun, Fun” despite it all, it was, was, was.
That is the strange thing about this evening. There is an argument that this was a brilliant tribute act with one very special guest. There is an argument that however brilliant the band are, however brilliant the songs are, the man who sang a few of them may have had a brilliant voice in the 1960s, but he does not now.
But the songs? The songs are beyond argument. The way they were played was often timeless and wonderful. “Pet Sounds” remains a thing of beauty. Brian Wilson’s presence hovered over the second half. And when a room in Wolverhampton is singing along to music born under a Californian sun more than half a century ago, you understand the scale of what The Beach Boys created.
Even with all the caveats, those songs still shine. Whether that is enough, everyone will have to decide for themselves
