Today, we return to one of the most discussed albums in pop history: The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds.

Nearly 60 years after Brian Wilson assembled its world of harmonies, longing, bass lines, sound effects, and impossible emotional detail, Interscope-Capitol’s Definitive Sound Series is preparing a new mono One Step edition sourced from analog tapes connected to the revered 1972 Brother/Reprise pressing. For collectors and audiophile listeners, that pressing has long held a special place because of its clarity, balance, and unusually vivid presentation of the album’s dense production.

My guest is reissue producer Tom “Grover” Biery, who helped trace, verify, and bring these tapes back into the conversation with the help of Chris Bellman and the archive teams. We talk about why this source matters, what “three-dimensional mono” means, how a single-channel recording can still feel layered and spacious, and why the 1972 pressing may reveal something important about how Pet Sounds came to be understood after its original 1966 release.

We also get into the practical side of making a record like this: tape boxes, archive clues, test pressings, quality control at RTI, the cost of producing a limited One Step edition, and the challenge of honoring a masterpiece without flattening it into mythology.

Here is my conversation with Tom “Grover” Biery on Pet Sounds, the 1972 Brother/Reprise source, and the continuing search for the clearest way to hear one of Brian Wilson’s greatest achievements.

What does it mean for a musician to be free?

Not free as a slogan, or a genre label, but truly free: free to search, free to return, free to follow a sound across a lifetime.

Alan Braufman has been asking that question, in one form or another, for decades. Born in Brooklyn in 1951, Braufman became part of the New York free music community in the 1970s, connected to the downtown loft jazz scene, where music was not only performed, but lived. In 1975, he released Valley of Search, a debut whose title seemed to name something larger than a record: the artist as seeker, moving toward a sound, a feeling, a kind of musical truth.

Now, with Anthem for Peace, Braufman returns with a new studio album produced by his nephew Nabil Ayers and recorded in a single day with Patricia Brennan, Chad Taylor, and Luke Stewart. The music is direct but open, melodic but untamed, rooted in free jazz while still reaching for song, spirit, and forward motion.

His work has often been called optimistic free jazz, and maybe that phrase gets close to the center of it. Freedom can be beautiful, but it is not always easy. Searching can last a lifetime. So today, we ask Alan Braufman what he has been searching for, what he has found, and whether Anthem for Peace brings him closer to the freedom his music has been reaching toward all along.

Jarrod Lawson returns at an interesting moment in his career. With Just Let It, his third studio album, he’s not simply refining the sound that first brought him attention, he’s reshaping it. Long associated with a polished blend of soul, jazz, and R&B, Lawson leans into something more expansive here, pulling in hip-hop textures, contemporary production, and a wide circle of collaborators. The result is a record that resists easy categorization, less concerned with genre than with feel, instinct, and forward motion.

There’s also a personal dimension running underneath the music. Now based in Nashville, and navigating life as a new father while maintaining an international touring schedule, Lawson is working through questions of balance, identity, and creative evolution in real time. That push and pull shows up in the music, but so does a sense of release. The album’s title is not accidental. It reflects a shift toward trusting the process, letting songs reveal themselves rather than forcing them into place, and allowing a broader set of influence - from ’90s R&B to classic soul - to coexist without overthinking it.

What makes this conversation compelling is that Lawson is not looking backward, even as he carries those traditions with him. He’s building something that feels lived-in but not nostalgic, technical but not clinical. This is an artist who understands the lineage, but is more interested in what happens when you loosen your grip and let the music take you where it wants to go.