SBK
Pop, 1990
On paper, Wilson Phillips was genetically engineered for pop domination. Imagine The Beach Boys and The Mamas & The Papas had a love child, and that child came armed with shoulder pads, oversized blazers, and a harmonizing vendetta against heartbreak. Sisters Carnie and Wendy Wilson, daughters of Brian Wilson, and Chynna Phillips, daughter of John and Michelle Phillips, came together to form a trio so genetically blessed with musical talent that the universe basically handed them a record deal and said, “Go forth and prosper!”
And for one glorious album, they did.
Their debut single Hold On remains the crown jewel of motivational pop anthems. The song is essentially a Hallmark card set to a drum machine, but damn it, those harmonies slap. It’s got that uplifting, white-linen-on-a-cliff energy that makes you feel like you really could change your life by simply believing in yourself. No wonder it became the soundtrack to every rom-com montage and therapy breakthrough of the ’90s.
Wilson Phillips has a formula, and they stuck to it: heartfelt lyrics, seamless harmonies, and enough studio gloss to reflect the neon lights of a suburban mall. Release Me and You’re in Love are textbook examples of how to make breakups sound oddly cheerful.
Chynna Phillips leads the way, her voice radiating I’m the main character, deal with it energy, while Wendy provides the sweet, supportive bestie vibes.
Then there’s Carnie Wilson—poor Carnie, a plus-sized woman in an era when pop stardom required you to fit into a Clueless-era mini dress. The industry may have put her in aggressively frumpy outfits, but it couldn’t hide that voice. And thank god for that, because when Carnie takes the lead on Eyes Like Twins, Next to You (Someday I’ll Be), and The Dream Is Still Alive, she absolutely owns them.
These three tracks stand apart from the rest of the album, dripping with melancholy and introspection, like the cool, artsy friend who listens to Tori Amos and smokes clove cigarettes behind the bleachers. Sure, the rest of the album is fluffy, but these songs give Wilson Phillips a hint of depth, just enough to make you justify listening to it on repeat. And let’s be real, if you’ve ever heard the “Ooh ee ooh!” from Next to You (Someday I’ll Be), you know it’s in your brain forever.
Sadly, Wilson Phillips never quite recaptured the magic of their debut. The perfect storm of cheesy-yet-sincere pop brilliance faded, and by the time their second album dropped, the ’90s had moved on to grungier pastures. But for one brief, glorious moment, they gave us harmonies, heartbreak, and hope—three things the world can always use more of.
So let’s raise a glass (or a giant can of Aqua Net) to Wilson Phillips and their one truly iconic album. It may not be deep, but hey, it still holds on.
