By Eliot Wilder / I embrace new technologies, especially when it comes to music. I recall the first time I heard a record played on my friend Scooter's dad's component system. At the time, I owned a mono phonograph - a small, grayish box with two knobs: "tone" and "volume," which should've been more appropriately labeled "muffly" and "shrill" - and hearing "Sgt. Pepper's" in stereo was like living in a grainy black and white world suddenly gone Technicolor. What were those guitars doing there? Bass ... what a concept! A beat that you could actually feel! There was sonic space, attenuation in the frequencies, amplification without distortion - all thanks to the miracle of modern science.

When compact disc players appeared, I remember hearing Beethoven's "Piano Concertos" at Tower Records' classical store on Sunset Boulevard - the only place in Los Angeles that had such a device on display where you could listen to it without a salesperson pressuring you to buy. I marveled at the clarity of the sound, the dynamics of the mix and the fact that there was no surface noise. I thought, I gotta get me one of them things. I just didn't have $4,000, or whatever it cost at the time.

When CDs eventually became the dominant medium, I gladly bid adieu to my noisy old vinyl albums. I'd coddled them for years, holding them by the edges, wiping them off with one of those wooden cleaning blocks, not letting sunlight touch them and not allowing the cat to get within a yard of them. And in return, they still managed to get warped and worn and scratchy. But unlike the nascent technology, which sounded clean but brittle and harsh, records sounded warm and, well, real. Still, I was curious and excited about this new medium, so I put up the dough for a player and purchased my first CD, which, as I recollect, was Paul Simon's "Graceland." It's a brilliant recording both song- and sound-wise, a perfect choice for the digital neophyte. I was on my way.

As the years passed and LPs and turntables became harder to come by, collectors and causal listeners alike wanted more than just what was on the charts; they pined for their favorite old recordings, from Mancini to Miles to the Monkees. Big labels like Columbia and smaller ones like Rhino responded by issuing what were then subpar, third-generation dubs of albums by catalog artists. As technology improved and record companies realized the gold mine they had in their older material, a march began of reissues followed by re-reissues followed by - no exaggeration - re-re-reissues that continues unabated. If folks want another version of "Who's Next" (which has just been remixed and re-released for the umpteenth time - this go-round from, honest, the true master tape) - then let's give it to 'em! How much greater than great, cleaner than clean can it sound? More bit rate for the buck? You be the judge.

Perhaps no other album in history has been reissued more frequently than the Beach Boys' "Pet Sounds." Upon its release in 1966, it fairly stiffed, likely because the band was by then out of fashion and fans used to songs about surf and sand were perplexed by its more mature ruminations on love and God. But despite its poor reception, "Pet Sounds" wasn't over with yet. It was subsequently placed alongside the band's 1972 release "Carl and the Passions" as a twofer. A few years down the road, as its stature rose slightly, "Pet Sounds" came out several more times on its lonesome; I had one version in which it appeared in a sleeve with a brownish border.

With the CD revolution and a revaluation of the Boys' oeuvre, Capitol began, with some fanfare, the first of what has become countless updates of the record, all of which promised state-of-the-art sound for what had been, as Brian originally intentioned it, a monaural recording. Because mono comes across as flat on today's high-tech sound systems, in 1996 the label, with the band's involvement and approval, put out "The Pet Sounds Sessions" box set, which contained a first-time-ever stereo rendition of the album (it had once appeared in fake stereo, known as Duophonic). The four-CD set also included endless outtakes of backing tracks without vocals and vocals without backing tracks. Not to mention an alternate versions, including "Wouldn't It Be Nice," in which Brian, rather than Mike, sings the bridge. You'd think that "Sessions" would be the final statement. You'd think. But shortly thereafter, Capitol reissued a single disc of the stereo "Pet Sounds," followed by yet another slightly upgraded version in both stereo and mono (wasn't that one where Paul McCartney added the liner notes about him weeping when he first heard the album? Who can keep up?). And last year, there was also "Brian Wilson Presents Pet Sounds Live."

Now, "Pet Sounds" is appearing again, this time on a disc that features five formats: DVD, Advanced Resolution surround sound, Advanced Resolution mono, Advanced Resolution stereo and DTS 5.1 surround sound. Not only can the thing be played on your DVD and CD machines, yielding the highest quality audio possible, but I bet if you pop it in your toaster oven it'll sound even better than your bagel.

No doubt, "Pet Sounds" is a stone classic, and any even halfway-serious music lover should have it in his or her collection. But what's the next step? Holographic DTS 10.5 Ultra-Advanced Resolution Duophonic super-duper surround sound? How about if Capitol arranges to raise Carl and Dennis from the dead, reunite the lot of them and have the Beach Boys perform "Pet Sounds" in every living room on the planet? It won't get any truer sounding than that.

From Amplifier magazine