The 25 greatest Beach Boys songs of all time

Sixty-three years ago, the Beach Boys released “Surfin’ U.S.A.,” and it would become their first #1 hit in the United States. In the years that followed, the Hawthorne, California-born band—the late Brian Wilson, Carl Wilson, Dennis Wilson, Al Jardine, Bruce Johnston, Mike Love, and others over the years—would release some of the greatest songs and most compelling projects in all of rock and roll. Notably, in 1966, they made Pet Sounds, one of the greatest American records ever created. Spearheaded by Brian’s uncompromising and relentless (and sometimes destructive) genius, the Beach Boys went from singing about surfing, girls, and cars to making dynamic, layered concertos about loneliness and the American frontier. As our Pet Sounds Project carries on in the lead-up to the album’s sixtieth anniversary, let’s celebrate six decades of the greatest American rock band to ever exist. Here are Paste’s picks for the twenty-five greatest Beach Boys songs of all-time.

25. “Busy Doin’ Nothin” (1968)

Brian Wilson goes lounge pop—that’s the tagline for “Busy Doin’ Nothin,” a sneaky gem on the lo-fi Friends. Brian was totally inspired by Burt Bacharach, Chris Montez, and bossa nova music. His wife Marilyn sings backup vox while Tom Scott, one of the great American sidemen, plays a delightfully understated bass flute part. The lyrics luxuriate in the trivial: “I get a lot of thoughts in the morning / I write ‘em all down / If it wasn’t for that / I’d forget ‘em in a while.” Never has a song about sending letters, letting the phone ring, hot sticky days, and keeping busy sounded so splendid.

24. “Big Sur” (1973)

Though it appears as a slower ballad on Holland, the version of “Big Sur” that arrived on the Feel Flows box-set reissue in 2021 is one of the most magical compositions in all of the Beach Boys’ catalog. Written and sung entirely by Mike Love, “Big Sur” is a picturesque homage to the natural beauty of California’s Central Coast wonder. “Big Sur, my astrology says that I am meant to be, where the rugged mountain meets the water,” Love serenades. “And so, while stars shine brightly and up above, fog rolls in through a Redwood grove. And to my dying fire, I think I’ll add a log.” It’s a delicate, nurturing, and kind ode to the state that made the Beach Boys so big. On top of that, it’s the best thing Love ever made with his cousins, as their harmonies beautifully wrap around his vocals—all atop a sublime instrumental perfect for a seaside cruise.

23. “Please Let Me Wonder” (1965)

The Beach Boys Today! will always live in the shadow of Pet Sounds, but, in many ways, it holds up just as perfectly. It was there that Brian was experimenting with the rich, complex, orchestral sound he’d fully embellished on his 1966 masterpiece, but, on Today! a year prior, he so aptly blends those aspirations with the doo-wop surf-rock the Beach Boys made infamous. A song like “Please Let Me Wonder,” which was merely a B-side to “Do You Wanna Dance?,” is pure pop majesty. With Brian helming lead vocals, Carl’s twelve-string lead guitar shines in unison with Glen Campbell’s acoustic copy, and the sans-Hal Blaine Wrecking Crew offer one of the lushest backing tracks in all of the Beach Boys’ pre-Pet Sounds catalog.

22. “Cabin Essence” (1967)

“Cabin Essence,” the closing track on 20/20, was written by Brian and Van Dyke Parks as a “freeze frame of the Union Pacific Railroad.” The song attempts to become its own microcosm—and it drifts in and out of numerous sonic landscapes. On the Smile version, the Wrecking Crew provides a definitive, unparalleled background set, while Love performs lead vocals and the rest of the band takes turns “doing-doing” and harmonizing through the chorus. “I want to watch you, windblown, facing waves of wheat for your embracing,” Love sings. “Folks sing a song of the grange, nestle in a kiss below there. The constellations ebb and flow there, and witness our home on the range.” It’s a really wonderful feat of language from Brian, who really was building an unparalleled world on Smile before it was abandoned. The 20/20 overdubs largely keep Brian’s original vision intact, and it remains an important notch in the Beach Boys’ late Sixties output.

21. “Feel Flows” (1971)

The only song on this list written by Carl Wilson, “Feel Flows” is a great prog-pop track of nonsensical lyrics set to an airy, piano-based arrangement. Carl himself plays a Baldwin organ, a Moog synth and pianos with taped strings, while Brian and Bruce Johnston provide backing harmonies. No other Beach Boy is on the track, but they don’t need to be. “Feel Flows” is one of Carl’s greatest feats, rivaling his singing on “God Only Knows.” It’s a pretty experimental track that feels perfectly in-tune with Brian’s own shape-shifting pop leanings and, on an odds-and-ends record like Surf’s Up, not a lick of “Feel Flows” arrives out of place.

20. “I’m Waiting For the Day” (1966)

You could, realistically, put every song from Pet Sounds on this list. But, there’s something truly special about “I’m Waiting For the Day.” It’s beautiful and relentlessly sorrowful. “I’m waiting for the day when you can love again,” Brian opines. The only two Beach Boys credited on the track are Brian and Love, as the composition leans on the Wrecking Crew’s playing—especially a perfect, snaking piano riff from Al de Lory at the genesis of the runtime. With orchestral strings from the Sid Sharp Strings, “I’m Waiting For the Day” is a full-bodied movement, a prime example of how much of Pet Sounds was Brian’s first real solo foray.

19. “Disney Girls (1957)” (1971)

Here lies Bruce Johnston’s greatest Beach Boys contribution. He wrote “Disney Girls (1957)” for Surf’s Up and even played the Moog synth, mandolin, and upright piano on it. I find that the Surf’s Up title track dwarfs a lot of the album’s other standouts, especially “Disney Girls (1957).” Johnston’s fantasy about Walt Disney movie stars, making garage wine, summer days, “open cars and clearer stars,” and Patti Page music is such a nostalgic reprieve from Surf’s Up’s serious melancholy. He wrote the tune because “I saw so many kids in our audiences being wiped out on drugs” and wanted to come up with something a bit more naive. “Oh reality, it’s not for me / And it makes me laugh” is a couple that’s stayed with me.

18. “Surfer Girl” (1963)

Though their early years comprised mostly surfing, the Pacific Ocean, hot rods, and drag racing, the Beach Boys’ prettiest pre-Pet Sounds track was a love song. Though the validity is debated, Brian Wilson has claimed many times that “Surfer Girl” was the first song he ever wrote back in 1961—and it is, supposedly, inspired by his first serious girlfriend, Judy Bowles. Regardless of what the true story around it is, “Surfer Girl” is a timeless, affectionate tune that Brian based on a Dion and the Belmonts song called “When You Wish Upon a Star.” With Brian’s vocals wrapping around a light, splendid instrumental alongside his bandmates, he sings of some of the lushest, kindest mementos: “We could ride the surf together, while our love would grow. In my Woody, I would take you everywhere I go.”

17. “I Get Around” (1964)

“I Get Around” was America’s curbing of the British Invasion. As Beatlemania was raging, the Beach Boys were able to strike gold with a #1 hit amidst all the English fury. Combining surf-rock with energetic doo-wop and that California sound, “I Get Around” is a diaristic song written by Brian and Love about their newfound fame post-“Surfin’ U.S.A.” and it hauls major ass. With a B-side (double A-side in our hearts) of “Don’t Worry Baby,” “I Get Around” is the poster-child for one of the greatest single releases in rock and roll history. Love sings co-lead, while Brian applies a chorus falsetto lead behind him. It’s a combination that is lights-out, and, with the Wrecking Crew behind them, “I Get Around” is a layered, edgy, warping pop record that still feels pristine 60 years later.

16. “Caroline, No” (1966)

The closing track on Pet Sounds, “Caroline, No” is one of Brian’s most-overlooked compositions ever. Detailing a lover who’s lost her innocence, the song is of longing, heartbreak, and retrospect. “It’s so sad to watch a sweet thing die,” Brian vocalizes in a falsetto. Wrecking Crew drummer Hal Blaine famously plays a Sparklett water jug, while Brian’s dogs Banana and Louie provide some barking atop a locomotive horn. Brian is the only Beach Boy credited on the song, making it a true solo endeavor that evokes a powerful, sprawling space of loneliness and loss. Pop and rock are not strong enough descriptors here, as the jazz chords Brian implements transcend any one or two labels. It’s a story about watching someone grow up without you, and Brian’s perfect, euphoric vocals make “Caroline, No” a truly one-of-a-kind masterpiece.

15. “Heroes and Villains” (1967)

Initially conceived by Brian and Van Dyke Parks for Smile, “Heroes and Villains” is an archive of early California history that finds the band weaving in and out of overtures and acts like an opera. Just as inspired by the work of Marty Robbins as anything Phil Spector made, “Heroes and Villains” is one of those songs you can point to when trying to understand the storytelling prowess of Brian Wilson. “Fell in love years ago with an innocent girl from the Spanish and Indian home of the heroes and villains,” he sings. “Once at night, cotillion squared, the fight, and she was right in the rain of the bullets that eventually brought her down.” Like other tracks on Smile, “Heroes and Villains” is a great narrative feat that reads like a short story. And with an orchestra of slide whistles, shakers, French horns, Danalectro bass, and tack piano, it’s a diverse, wayfaring, technicolor affair that holds up better than 90% of rock and roll from the era it was birthed from.

14. “The Night Was So Young” (1977)

Released in 1977 and featuring songs as old as 1970, the Beach Boys’ twenty-first album as a band was, essentially, a Brian Wilson solo effort. When The Beach Boys Love You hit the shelves, it wasn’t very well-received by the critics. However, in modern times, it’s largely lauded as a revolutionary album in the synth-pop cannon. Lester Bangs even called it the band’s “best album ever.” Many of the songs channel adolescent themes, which are juxtaposed by all of the members singing with gravelly, imperfect bravados. Brian himself has considered the record one of his most important statements, and “The Night Was So Young” is among the purest compositions in the band’s catalog. Love You doesn’t have the cultural reputation that Pet Sounds does, but “The Night Was So Young” (and the album at large) yields a musical lore that has reached everyone from Patti Smith to Sonic Youth to R.E.M. to Alex Chilton to Yo La Tengo. As was always the case with Wilson’s style, he plugged those perfect Beach Boy harmonies into something that was ahead of the curve.

13. “Don’t Talk (Put Your Head On My Shoulder)” (1966)

What chromatic perfection. Vibraphone, timpani, organ, cymbals, and strings swirl in the Western studio room; Brian Wilson’s singing piles until it’s got the strength of an orchestra. Elvis Costello once said an interesting thing about “Don’t Talk (Put Your Head On My Shoulder)”: “If the record players in the world get broken tomorrow, these songs could be heard a hundred years from now.” Thousands of words could be written about this song’s six-bar intro and that wouldn’t be enough. Bruce Johnston referred to the string arrangement on “Don’t Talk” as a “baby orchestra.” “He made everything sound like you could set it up in your living room and stand in the middle.” What an image. Tactile and lush, “Don’t Talk” leaves me at a standstill every time.

12. “‘Til I Die” (1971)

Written by Brian for the Surf’s Up album in 1971 after threatening to drive his car off the Santa Monica pier, “‘Til I Die” is an existential crisis put to tape. It’s one of the most haunting songs the Beach Boys ever made, as the band harmonizes “These things I’ll be until I die” over and over again until the track cascades into an ending. For a band that made a good living singing about girls, cars, and waves, “‘Til I Die” is a jarring departure that finds the Beach Boys knee-deep in their own mortality. It’s a sharp careen into darkness, magnified by the church choir-esque vocal layering that Brian implemented on the final cut of the track. Spectral and damning, “‘Til I Die” is unforgettable and unrelenting.

11. “I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times” (1966)

Co-written with Tony Asher, “I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times” is an epic ballad from Brian. Shouldered by a melodic bass guitar and an Electro-Theremin solo, the song is a brutally blunt portrayal of melancholia by Brian, who sings “Sometimes I feel very sad” while the band harmonizes the line “Ain’t found the right thing I can put my heart and soul into” behind him. It feels like an apt commentary on the rigors of musicianhood, and perhaps it was Brian’s own diaristic approach to his decision to stop touring and work exclusively in the studio. Either way, that theremin solo is heavenly, and Brian’s vocal layering adds a rich, complex depth to an already emotionally dense narrative.

10. “All I Wanna Do” (1970)

Recorded first during the Friends sessions and then again for 20/20, “All I Wanna Do” was finalized on Sunflower, with string arrangements from the great Michel Colombier. It’s proto-dream-pop, the kind of tune that inspired multiple generations of psychedelia and hypnagogia. The way Carl, Al, Bruce, and Brian’s counterpoint harmonies wrap so loosely around Love’s lead, it colors the crackling tape and metallic guitars just right. “All I Wanna Do” delights as it does because of heavy overdubbing and reverb. You can hear the earliest hints of shoegaze and chillwave in the melody, and Stephen Desper’s Moog sounds especially warped. Without “All I Wanna Do,” you don’t get Animal Collective, my bloody valentine, Cindy Lee, the Flaming Lips, the Polyphonic Spree, and Tame Impala.

9. “Good Vibrations” (1966)

“Good Vibrations” is the greatest song on this list, no question. Its lasting imprint on rock and roll cannot be understated, as it came out two months after the Beatles released Revolver and it blew everything on that album away. Some might argue it’s one of the greatest compositions in the history of post-World War II music. With a cotorie of instruments that include (but are not limited to) bongos, sleigh bells, flutes, contra-clarinet, piccolo, harpsichord, theremin, jaw harp, and timpani, it was ambitious and landed on its feet—but not without a laborious, expensive recording process. With reports of the “Good Vibrations” sessions costing nearly $75,000 (about $715,000 in today’s money) in total, it’s no surprise that Smile fell apart. It’s been widely documented that Brian’s perfectionism caused strife amongst the band. Love has said he did nearly thirty vocal overdubs of just one five-second part, while getting the dueling cellos outro correct was a particularly nitpicky ordeal for Brian. “Good Vibrations” became the band’s biggest hit, though it did come at a cost. However, the creative and experimental alchemy of rock and roll changed forever because of it.

8. “In My Room” (1963)

The Beach Boys—Brian Wilson, to be exact—long perfected the art of making sad, chart-hitting music. Their 1963 ballad “In My Room” hammers that truth home so well. With Brian singing lead and his band backing him up with a dainty melody, he croons about isolation and loneliness in ways that many pop and rock acts just could never match. “In this world, I lock out all my worries and my fears in my room,” he sings. “Do my dreaming and my scheming lie awake and pray? Do my crying and my sighing laugh at yesterday?” Though it was a B-side to “Be True to Your School,” it was a top 10 hit in Boston, Seattle, San Francisco, Washington D.C., Houston, Minneapolis, Pittsburgh, and Columbus. In one of those rare moments where it outshines its A-side, “In My Room” is one of Brian’s sweetest and greatest creations.

7. “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” (1966)

I don’t think there’s a Side-One-Track-One better than “Wouldn’t It Be Nice.” It’s the tune that kicks off Pet Sounds, the greatest American rock record ever made—for that alone, it’s an immortal classic. However, its power-pop roots and Wall of Sound-style arrangement make it a truly unique and hypnotic song. The lyrics, which are, in true Brian Wilson fashion, melancholic, contradict the upbeat, joyous arrangement. It’s a formula that was damn-near never-ending for the Beach Boys, and it shines particularly perfect on “Wouldn’t It Be Nice.” The story is reflective, with aspirations of growing older and into a freer romance, as Brian sings, “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could wake up in the morning when the day is new? And after having spent the day together, hold each other close the whole night through.” It’s innocent, depressing, and catchy—what more could you ever need?

6. “This Whole World” (1970)

There’s a version of this song on the studio version of Sunflower, and it’s perfect! But the (Long Version & Backing Vocals Mix) version, which appears on the Feel Flows box set, is maybe the greatest outtake I’ve ever heard in my life—Beach Boys or otherwise. It’s downright psychedelic, with Jerry Cole and David Cohen’s noodly guitar riffs skronking beneath the band’s signature ba-boom harmonies. Shout out to Gene Estes and Daryl Dragon, too. Their chimes lend an air of childishness to “This Whole World”’s melodic pageantry. Brian wrote this, but Carl sings it perfectly. They spent days recording it at the Beach Boys’ studio on Bellagio Road. It was worth every minute.

5. “She Knows Me Too Well” (1965)

I think “She Knows Me Too Well” is Brian’s pre-Pet Sounds opus. It’s here that he shines unequivocally. A track on side two of The Beach Boys Today!, “She Knows Me Too Well” is this sorrowful glint of romance, jealousy, and insecurity—one of the first songs that Brian wrote while stoned on weed. A sibling to “Don’t Worry Baby,” it’s Brian’s vocalizations on this track that really steal the show. As his brothers, Al Jardine and cousin Love harmonize around him, he careens into a falsetto that is of his purest, greatest moments. “When I look at other girls, it must kill her inside,” he sings. “But it’s be another story if she looked at the guys, ‘cause she knows me so well, that she can tell I really love her.” Jardine’s bass-playing and Carl’s lead guitar work in unison to send the doo-wop-inspired instrumental into one of the coziest, most blissful tunes this side of Buddy Holly.

4. “God Only Knows” (1966)

To be Paul McCartney’s favorite song of all-time is already an incredible feat; to be one of the greatest songs ever across the board is just icing on the cake. “God Only Knows,” the morose, romantic ballad Brian penned with Tony Asher, is baroque pop at its very finest. As tonal and introspective as “In My Room,” “God Only Knows” signaled an immediate departure from surf-rock altogether. It’s a subversive take on popular music’s traditional idea of a love song, as Carl sings, “If you should ever leave me, though life would still go on, believe me, the world could show nothing to me, so what good would living do me?” Employing suicidal signals and co-dependency, “God Only Knows” found the Beach Boys digging into their deep, melancholic bag of tricks. Much like he did on “Don’t Worry Baby,” Brian mined through his own personal turmoil to forge a transcendent, timeless tune that remains a benchmark in pop architecture. Only a brilliant songwriter could assemble something like “God Only Knows,” and thank goodness Brian Wilson answered the call.

3. “Let Him Run Wild” (1965)

My friends and I (and Al Jardine) see “Let Him Run Wild” as a hint to where Brian Wilson was going on Pet Sounds. It’s too bad that Brian hated it, calling his voice “shrill” and “like a fairy.” But pay no mind to that. “Let Him Run Wild,” packaged as the B-side to “California Girls,” is complicated but delightful. Peter Ames Carlin said the lyrics were inspired by Murry Wilson’s extramarital affairs. It’s serious business beneath an intoxicating melodic swing—an obvious precursor to “I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times,” “God Only Knows,” and “I Know There’s an Answer.” Legend has it that the song held permanent residence in George Harrison’s jukebox. If I can be frank with you, dear reader, I do think this is one of the most beautiful pop songs ever. Sunshine pop with rays so bright; lovey-dovey vibes bouncing on the major seventh. If only all music could sound like this.

2. “Don’t Worry Baby” (1964)

I think there’s an argument to be made that “Don’t Worry Baby” is the greatest pop song ever written. I mean, it’s immaculate from beginning to end. Even though it’s about something as simplistic and niche as a drag race, the track’s wonder arrives in Brian’s immense, daring, and revolutionary arrangement. With a key change that’ll leave you spinning, Brian initially offered the song to the Ronettes, but producer Phil Spector refused it. Similarly structured as “Be My Baby,” Brian tried to replicate Spector’s Wall of Sound technique but wound up making his own singular masterpiece. “She makes me come alive and makes me wanna drive when she says ‘Don’t worry, baby, everything will turn out alright,’” Brian vocalizes. Ronnie Spector would, eventually, cover the track, but the original recording remains one of the most beautiful, kindest, and radical songs ever composed. It’s not just a Beach Boys classic; it’s a rock and roll benchmark.

1. “Surf’s Up” (1967)

After 60 years of music and hundreds of songs, it’s hard to imagine anything better than “Surf’s Up,” Brian’s opus from the Smile sessions that wound up with its own album in 1971. But for this list, we are looking at the original composition that was meant to play a huge role in the follow-up to Pet Sounds. It’s a meta take on enlightenment that chronicles a spiritual awakening. With a sequitur composed like a children’s song, “Surf’s Up” is one of the most unconventional songs in the band’s career—and the one that channels Brian’s vision better than any other. Interpolating a coda of “Child Is Father of the Man” (another Smile song), “Surf’s Up” weaves across numerous tones and textures and is, wholly, perfect from beginning to end. With a title that cheekily winks at the Beach Boys’ early years, it’s a linguistic benchmark rarely rivaled. “The glass was raised, the fire rose, the fullness of the wine, the dim last toasting,” Brian sings. “While at port adieu or die, a choke of grief, heart hardened I, beyond belief a broken man too tough to cry.” It’s as if Brian invented his own language, as he waxed poetic about a man finding meaning and labeling himself God. It’s the closest thing we’ll ever get to hearing Mozart in a contemporary setting. I don’t think a rock and roll musician has ever been closer to the divine than when Brian made “Surf’s Up.”

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