Phil Spector’s lasting production legacy

Sonny & Cher and the Beach Boys inherit Phil Spector’s production legacy and push it further.

Now Phil Spector’s legacy. We covered Spector as an early-1960s producer of girl-group hits and later the Righteous Brothers—an early signature figure. A common line: February 1964 Beatles landing and Beatlemania push Spector’s team off the charts. In fact, while the Beatles boom in America, Spector still scores—1965’s Righteous Brothers “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’,” and 1966’s “Ebb Tide” still peaking at No. 5. Claims that the Invasion fully clears Americans from the charts are overstated. Spector leaves a large musical inheritance; his early-1960s work shapes later musicians who enrich 1960s American music further.

Among those shaped, Sonny Bono is key. In Sonny & Cher, he works West Coast promotion for Spector and assists at Gold Star. When Spector cuts girl groups, Sonny sings backups or shakes tambourine; girlfriend Cher subs as a session singer. Sonny wants to produce and perform like Phil and write his own songs—already apprentice and assistant. First try 1964: a single answering the Invasion, Cher as Bonnie Jo Mason on “Ringo, I Love You”—little impact. When Americans push back in 1965, Sonny grabs it: Cher’s “All I Really Want to Do” charts against the Byrds’ version after “Mr. Tambourine Man.” Cher’s cut knocks the Byrds’ off. A story—true or not—has Dylan asking Roger McGuinn how he let Cher beat the Byrds. For Dylan the writer, either version pays. Sonny thinks: I can write Dylan-style songs. He studies Dylan’s traits and writes. Dylan likes singing “babe”—“It Ain’t Me Babe”—so Sonny writes “I Got You Babe,” like P. F. Sloan’s “Eve of Destruction” for Barry McGuire. It feels Dylan-like; 1965 “I Got You Babe” hits No. 1 and makes Sonny & Cher real pop stars. More chart songs follow; the biggest later may be 1967’s “The Beat Goes On.” Their music grows up with 1970s audiences as mainstream acts who host variety TV. Already in the mid-1960s they are flashy hippie-culture forerunners—1965–66 clothes are bold; search the photos. This is before hippie style fully hits mainstream America. 1967 Carnaby Street has out-there looks, but not as far as Sonny & Cher; some hotels refuse them for dress. Mainstream yet avant for the moment—they sit at the center of that push.

Talking 1960s L.A., you cannot skip the Beach Boys and Spector’s legacy. When the Ronettes’ “Be My Baby” arrives in 1964, the Beach Boys already have a hit or two, but Brian Wilson is not yet producing—Capitol assigns others. Brian thinks: I can do this—be like Sonny Bono, like Spector: own team, write, produce, build something like Spector’s Wall of Sound. His “Be My Baby” story: driving, the song is so striking he pulls over for fear of crashing, listens, and knows that is the song he wants to write—the song he wishes the Ronettes had cut. Spector does not cut Brian’s song; the Beach Boys do, deep in Spector’s shadow: using the studio for loud, interesting sounds.

Problem: Brian is emotionally fragile and unstable—missed planes, meltdowns in flight. Better to replace him on tour; he stays home to write and arrange—“we come back, record Brian’s songs, then tour with the sub.” First sub: Glen Campbell, L.A. session player who later becomes a star. Campbell does not stay long; Bruce Johnston takes Brian’s place—strong voice, sings a lot. Brian stays home in the studio with top L.A. players—the Wrecking Crew—working much as Spector does. Arrangements grow more ambitious. “California Girls” still has surf flavor, but denser charts, long intros, and other moves show surf music getting more ambitious.

For the Beach Boys and Brian, 1966’s Pet Sounds is a major turn. You may know “Sloop John B,” “Wouldn’t It Be Nice,” “God Only Knows.” Brian builds something like a concept album—not quite labeled that. Hearing the Beatles’ Rubber Soul, he hears songs that add up to more than one-plus-one; he wants that on Pet Sounds. The LP fills with studio experiments. Frustration follows: the band is disappointed—sounds great in the room, but how do you play it live? After Pet Sounds, “Good Vibrations” still feels unplayable onstage. After that should come Smiley Smile—we save Beatles vs. Beach Boys rivalry for later, late 1966–67 early psychedelic stretch, Chapter 7.

Note: the Beach Boys compete with the Beatles not only on charts but inside the same company. In America the Beatles are on Capitol; so are the Beach Boys, signed earlier—when Capitol still does not issue Beatles records. With the Beatles, the Beach Boys fight for fans and for their own label’s attention. Interestingly the Kingston Trio is also on Capitol in the same period—key names under one roof.

Other L.A. notes: Gary Lewis & the Playboys, led by young Gary Lewis, son of comic Jerry Lewis—echoes of Ricky Nelson, whose father Ozzie Nelson could open doors. Jerry Lewis is hot in 1960s Hollywood and can help. 1965: No. 1 “This Diamond Ring,” No. 3 “She’s Just My Style.”

Johnny Rivers also charts several times. Interestingly his first famous album is a live LP—foreshadowing late-1970s breakthroughs via live albums, most famously Peter Frampton’s Frampton Comes Alive after earlier studio LPs. Rivers has Live at the Whisky. Early chart cuts are Chuck Berry covers—1964’s “Memphis,” “Maybellene.” Best known: “Secret Agent Man,” No. 3 in 1966, still on oldies and classic-rock radio. That ends our L.A. / Spector-legacy stretch. Next: back to the East Coast in the same years.