Possibly the most beautiful and complex pop song ever written. This is the apex of Brians foray into modular music. Loved by Bernstein and McCartney. This song will take you years to sink in. Perfect. I have heard some amazing versions he has done of this equally as powerful.

What a song. No time for breathing - because we're straight into three phases of soaring harmonies and choppy Wurlitzer piano chords. As your spine tingles get prepared for the cyclical refrain that brings the song to its climax. We're talking beauty defined.

A song whose verse is achingly beautiful for its harmony, melody and arrangement - so much that it stopped me in my tracks when I heard it playing in a record shop recently. Interestingly it took me many years of familiarity to really appreciate this track, which is in stark contrast to "God Only Knows", which I have loved since the first time I heard it.

The Beach Boys back-catalogue contains many gems, as others have observed. This one has become a particular favourite for its harmony and the soaring vocals.

By 1965, Brian Wilson's professional and personal lives were in such a state of constant panic that it was almost inevitable that he would turn to readily available forms of rock star relief. While his self-medication (and underlying mental illness) would ultimately render him into a poster boy for an imaginary DARE campaign, the early, merely marijuanic phase of his regimen yielded a brief but vivid string of almost absurdly gorgeous pop masterpieces. While a couple of these are permanently stamped into the forebrains of all radio listeners over a certain age ("God Only Knows," "Good Vibrations"), some remain almost unknown. Which brings us to "Wonderful," found on the Beach Boys box set, and remade a few years ago as part of the Don Was hagiography. It is a curious, brief (2 minutes) tune, austere in production (harpsichord and vocal) but staggeringly rich in harmonic interest. The melody evokes pure serenity and has no noticeable roots in any previous American pop style. Van Dyke Park's lyric is typically insane; what little one can make of it seems to dovetail with Wilson's growing religiousity, yet feels entirely physical, even pagan -- a sort of boy-loves-wood sprite nature idyll making the first movement of a really great ballet with set design by Maurice Sendak. Or something.