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When Brian Dennis and Carl Wilson took the stage for the first time back in 1961, it was obvious that the Beach Boys would go far. When Donny Osmond and his three brothers began to harmonize as kids, their eventual success was no less obvious because their sound was so undeniably unforgettable.

Likewise, the Everly Brothers, the Allman Brothers, the Isley Brothers, the Jonas Brothers, the Mills Brothers and too many other brothers to mention. Point is, when it comes to making beautiful music, siblings seem to have a distinct advantage. And yet, Sam and his siblings, the brothers responsible for the most iconic sound of all time, got off to a less than harmonious start. Manhattan, October 6th, the biggest show of their career is about to commence, and Sam's siblings are in a full on panic, Jack, Harry and Al speak in hushed tones, quietly second guessing their big brother's decision to bring in a hired gun.

How the hell did you talk us into this? Says Jack. Sam doesn't reply because at this point, there's nothing new he can say yes, he hired a ringer for tonight's show, a professional singer from outside the family, and yes, he committed his brother's to provide backup.

The deal is done and now Sam is smiling even as his brothers hyperventilate around him. I can't believe this is happening, says Albert. It's a disaster, cries Harry. If this doesn't work, says Jack, we are finished.

Through all the drama, Sam stays cool as a cucumber that's typical, Sam is always the unflappable one, the risk taker, the calm in the eye of the storm.

At 42, he's the brother who knows the industry best, the one who believes the time has come for a new sound. I just don't get it, said Harry. If it ain't broke, why are we trying to fix it?

Fact is, Sam's brothers like the sound they currently have, and they know that many of their fans agree. Why reinvent the wheel?

Jack walks over to his big brother, who is still the very picture of calm and places his hand on Sam's shoulder. He says nothing, but he recalls how confident Sam sounded when he first pitch them. The idea. I know it sounds crazy, Sam had said, but we need a new sound, a better sound.

And I think this singer can help us with the four of us behind him. Well, there's no telling how far we can go. As for the singer, he too is nervous.

Like Sam's brothers, he has much to lose if tonight's show is a flop in the venue, he mingles casually with the VIPs, shaking hands and posing for photos, wondering how he wound up in this position.

All he knows for sure is that Sam had been very persuasive and now there's no turning back. Jack checks his watch for the third time in a minute and rubs his temples as the crowd streams into the theater, Harry paces Albert praise. The tension is palpable. And yet and the final seconds before the curtain rises, Sam is still cool as a cucumber, not because he's unflappable or supremely confident or blasé about investing all their money into this one show. Now, Sam is cool as a cucumber because he's dead.

Ironically, the brother obsessed with finding a big new sound, died of an ear infection just one day before the most important show of their career, leaving his anxious and grief stricken brothers to pace nervously around his casket in Los Angeles, three thousand miles from the theater in Manhattan, where they all should have been watching the world premiere of the movie in which Sam had invested all their money in a movie that featured a singer who was now taking his seat and the front row next to four empty chairs reserved for the brothers who couldn't make it.

The movie was called The Jazz Singer. And to say the crowd went wild after the first song would be an understatement. Why? Because instead of hearing a piano play inside the theater, as the actors on screen pretended to talk and sing, this audience heard real instruments through actual speakers instead of seeing title cards with captions pop up on the screen. When the singer opened his mouth, this audience heard an actual song. And then when the song ended, the flabbergasted crowd completely lost its collective mind when a jazz singer named Al Jolson looked into the camera and said, You ain't heard nothing yet.

October 6th, nineteen twenty seven from that day forward, movies would never be the same, and neither would music, because once the movie audience experienced synchronized sound, the road was paved for television and a few decades later for music television.

Thanks to MTV, other bands of brothers and bands of sisters and bands of musicians who are completely unrelated would go on to thrill their fans like never before.

But of course, none of that could have happened without Sam, the oldest brother who bet everything on sound back at a time when everyone around him thought silence was golden. A bold wager that would forever change every single aspect of the entertainment industry and make his siblings the most successful band of brothers in the history of Hollywood. Sam, Jack, Harry and Albert. The Warner Brothers. Anyway, that's the way I heard it.