Brian Wilson's genius was never as indelible as worshippers believe. Cambered by Van Dyke Parks or stripped by Don Was, he was magical, generating visions of eternal sunshine or of crackpot solipsism or both. Yoked to adult contemporary tyro Joe Thomas, however, he's just one more pro who's proud he's no longer crazy as he makes futile gestures towards past glories from a failing high end and knows even less about the world than when he was. C

Wilson's genius has never been as indelible or universal as worshippers believe. Generating illusions of eternal sunlight or crafting frames for crackpot solipsism, he was magical; stripped by Don Was or cambered by Van Dyke Parks, he was at least interesting. Submitting to adult-contempo tycoon Joe Thomas, however, he's just what you'd fear: a middle-aged pop pro who's proud he's no longer nuts and knows even less about the world than when he was. The lead cut has a happy tune, the dark finale some dysfunctional intimations. In between, he makes too much of attendant hacks and gestures at old glories from a failing high end. C