Brian Wilson, Beach Boys musician and pop visionary, dies aged 82
Brian Wilson
, The Beach Boys musician, songwriter and producer who created some of history's most purely beautiful pop music, has died aged 82.
In a post shared on Instagram on Wednesday, Wilson's family wrote: 'We are heartbroken to announce that our beloved father Brian Wilson has passed away. We are at a loss for words right now. Please respect our privacy at this time as our family is grieving. We realise that we are sharing our grief with the world. Love & Mercy.'
As the leading creative force in The Beach Boys, Wilson crafted a variously carefree and melancholy sound that came to define the uncertain utopianism of mid-century California. Using ambitious studio techniques to give the band's music a thrilling grandeur, his songs about surfing, driving, girls and the pep of youth modulated to more reflective and often psychedelic material, resulting in one of the most highly regarded catalogues of American song. The Beach Boys' 1966 album Pet Sounds – written and produced almost entirely by Wilson – is seen not only as the group's masterpiece, but for many is the greatest album of all time.
Wilson was born in Inglewood, southern California, in 1942. A natural musician with perfect pitch who could sing back phrases sung to him as a baby, he learned piano as he and his younger brothers Carl and Dennis fell in love with R&B, rock'n'roll, doo-wop and pop. Despite going partly deaf in one ear (possibly as a result of an attack by a local boy), he and Carl joined their cousin Mike Love to form the high school group Carl and the Passions, later bringing in Dennis and friend Al Jardine to form the Pendletones. They had been encouraged by Wilson's father Murry, with whom Wilson had a complex relationship – he later said Murry was also physically abusive to him.
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Bruce Johnston (from left to right), David Marks, Brian Wilson, Mike Love and Al Jardine of The Beach Boys at the Grammy Awards in 2012. Photograph: Kevork Djansezian/Getty
Wilson's first song for the group, soon renamed the Beach Boys, was 1961's Surfin' – the first in a series of Wilson-penned hits such as Surfin' Safari, Surfer Girl and Surfin' USA, the latter reaching number three on the US charts and cementing their breakthrough.
Wilson graduated to producer, as well as songwriter, for third album Surfer Girl, and powered the group through an astonishingly high work rate, releasing 15 albums before the end of the 1960s. Wilson's ambition meant that he strove not to be boxed in as a novelty band who sang about surfing and cars, and deepened the band's songcraft – including on Pet Sounds, which was conceived as an overarching statement rather than a series of discrete songs, its complex arrangements featuring everything from orchestral instruments to Coca-Cola bottles.
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Brian Wilson's united states of music
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Wilson began using cannabis and LSD, and said the latter was creatively useful – he wrote a signature Beach Boys song, California Girls, while on his first trip, and said acid allowed him to 'come to grips with what you are, what you can do [and] can't do'. But his drug use, coupled with his intense workload, likely exacerbated mental health problems that had started when he was a teenager suffering from anxiety.
He heard voices in his head, spent time in psychiatric hospitals during the late 1960s, and became somewhat isolated from his bandmates. Wilson would eventually be diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder and mild manic depression. He said in 2019: 'There were times when [his mental illness] was unbearable but with doctors and medications I have been able to live a wonderful, healthy and productive life.'
Amid his difficulties, Pet Sounds' follow-up Smile was never completed (though was later adapted into a 2004 solo album, and the original recordings eventually released as The Smile Sessions in 2011). His bandmates began to contribute more to the songwriting, though Wilson compositions still occasionally featured as the group emerged from a commercial downturn at the close of the decade to record the acclaimed Sunflower and Surf's Up albums (the latter's title track a psychedelic return by Wilson to his earlier fixation).
The Beach Boys in 1966. Photograph: Clive Limpkin/Express/Getty
After the death of his father, the early 1970s were a low period for Wilson, as his drug intake increased along with his weight, and he became isolated once more. He came back into the Beach Boys fold for 1976 album 15 Big Ones, but descended again into alcoholism, drug abuse and overeating towards the end of the decade; he also endured the death of Dennis who drowned in 1983. Closely controlled by psychologist Eugene Landy, his equilibrium improved in the 1980s, and, having finally split from the Beach Boys, he released his self-titled debut solo album in 1988.
The early 1990s was another fractious period: Wilson was extricated from his arrangement with Landy – who had become a songwriting collaborator, and got himself added to Wilson's will via a conservatorship agreement – with a restraining order filed against Landy. Wilson was sued by his mother, Carl, Love and Jardine for defamatory statements in his 1991 memoir, and again by Love the following year over royalties, which was found in favour of Love.
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The Beach Boys: 'It would be the right time to come back together, while we still have our voices'
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Wilson continued to tour and release occasional solo albums, and eventually reunited with the Beach Boys in 2011 (now without Carl, who died in 1998) for a tour and the album That's Why God Made the Radio. The group split once more, with Love touring under the band's name and Wilson and Jardine separately touring together, including for a 50th anniversary Pet Sounds tour in 2016.
Wilson was married twice, first to Marilyn Rovell in 1964, with whom he had two daughters, Carnie and Wendy (who later formed a vocal group of their own, Wilson Phillips, and scored three US number one singles). Wilson and Rovell divorced in 1979. In 1995, he married Melinda Kae Ledbetter, who he first began dating in 1986 and who also became his manager. They adopted five children together.
In addition to his 1991 and 2016 memoirs, Wilson's story has also been told in a biopic, Love & Mercy, starring Paul Dano and released in 2014, and a 2021 documentary, Brian Wilson: Long Promised Road. – Guardian
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Irish Times
3 hours ago
- Irish Times
Trump country: ‘When we travel, if you go to a bigger area, people can be rude and disrespectful'
'There are two words that a southwest Virginian just cannot say,' Bill Smith explains as he sips a whiskey in Good Times, one of the more recent places to open in the town of Big Stone Gap. He pauses for effect. ''Yes.' And 'No'.' Because they don't want to be impolite? 'Well. That's part of it. They also don't want to hang their asses. You can hear it in the jokes. Someone can say something really cutting. And then they'll say, 'Awh, I was just joking with ya.' I came from a place where if you don't answer a question straight, you get: what's the matter, can't you make up your mind?' READ MORE Smith moved from Montana to Big Stone Gap (population 5,114), one of Virginia's many recovering coal towns, 30 years ago. He brought with him a sense of adventure inherited from his mother, who was a big-band singer from Chicago and, later, a renowned drama schoolteacher in Waukesha, Wisconsin. Smith is one of those people who move in no hurry and yet seem to have packed a thousand lives into seven decades. He was a firefighter in California, plus a musician, plus an actor. In Virginia, he worked manual jobs, then as a sports reporter covering the Big Stone Gap school football team during a few feverish all-state seasons. He also curated the acclaimed Crooked Road festival. On the afternoon we meet he has just finished-up substitute teaching at the local high school. He'd never heard of Wise County, much less Big Stone Gap, before the 1990s. But one night he caught a performance by Roadside Theater, an Appalachian touring group, and he met Nancy Countiss. 'That was it,' he chuckles. 'I came out here in 1994. Not on a whim. But I fell in love. The last show I did was in Montana, and 10 days later I was learning how to make hydraulic hoses here for minimum wage.' By 'out here' he means the pioneer trail in reverse: crossing the fabled Cumberland Gap, the mountain pass that intersects the Tennessee, Kentucky and Virginia state lines, and into the triangular wedge of counties in southwest Virginia. He arrived just as the coal companies had begun their exodus, disrupting the deeply established patterns of life throughout Appalachia, the 13-state mountainous region of the United States that has acquired a reputation that is in some ways distinct from and deeper than the country itself. Bill Smith: 'Education was never a priority bcause you could go into the mines and make more than the teacher' Cumberland Gap viewing point Bill Smith doesn't yet consider himself local, 'although it helps that my wife's family's been here 300 years'. He's a natural raconteur and has a fizzing mind with which he bounces through topics and centuries at will. Over the course of an afternoon, he tells me that here, the big open-plan Good Times restaurant, was the original location for the town newspaper the 'Post', where he began working in 1996 'just as Westmoreland coal was leaving and things were tense'. He talks about the difference between formal schooling and inherited knowledge. 'Education was never a priority. Because you could go into the mines and make more than the teacher. People have a tendency to look down on miners. But it is highly technical and dangerous and always has been.' That takes him on the rich seam of storytelling running through the Pow [Powell] Valley, and the inherited music tradition. He talks about the Bristol museum, about an hour away, where Ralph Peer all but created the US country music tradition through a series of recordings he made in the summer of 1927. 'And you can't throw a dead cat around here without hitting a musician. Some of the best old-time and bluegrass music in the country is within 100 miles of here. Last Saturday there were three different bands in town. But before the pandemic there weren't really any bars here to speak of. For years, it used to be the front porch.' He explains how the consequences of the pandemic are still taking a toll. 'Too many kids came out of Covid damaged. They were feral. This is our first proper year back in school. The pandemic in this area – we had almost 1/10th of our population die. I lost 14 friends. I think it was over 1,000 people in Wise County.' Something jigs a memory of an inherited story: his wife's great-great grandfather, eight years old and walking for days with his family on the move to Wise County. 'He was carrying the family pewter. And a chair. Well, seems he got real tired of hanging on to the pewter and he chucked it. Piece by piece. Into the woods. But we have that chair still.' Then he says, out of the blue, ' Daniel Boone walked the ground right about my house,' as if the famed pioneer had passed by just last week. Trump country: In the 2024 election Wise County returned Donald Trump with an 81 per cent vote, neighbouring Lee County with 85 per cent The overarching point is that while Smith still considers himself 'an oddity' to the true locals in town and in this part of Appalachia, the richness and singularity of the region has him spellbound. 'It's wild,' he says. 'And it's conservative. And it has cultural depth.' It is, we agree, a long way from Washington, longer than its 430 miles suggest. You can catch a little of Virginia's hauteur in its nickname, 'Old Dominion'. Arlington House, perched above the cemetery, looms over Washington, DC , as the former home of the Confederate general Robert E Lee. If you drive the I-80 and swing a right past Senator Tim Kaine's constituency office in Abingdon, after which the state turns truly mountainous and bewitching, you will finally end up in Lee County, named after the famed general's father. The cross-state drive takes about seven hours, allowing stops for petrol and Dunkin' Donuts. In the 2024 presidential election, Wise County returned Donald Trump with an 81 per cent vote. Neighbouring Lee County voted Trump by 85 per cent. These are thumping returns in counties that can make for grim reading in the statistical data: 27 per cent of people live below the poverty line in Lee County. An unofficial stat: in an area of gorgeous natural beauty, Lee County shows no hotels on the usual listing sites. Barbara Kingsolver, author of the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Demon Copperhead, which is set in southwest Virginia. Photograph: University of Edinburgh/PA It has, more recently acquired a literary significance as the setting for Demon Copperhead, Barbara Kingsolver's phenomenally successful, Pulitzer Prize-winning novel that transposes the blueprint for David Copperfield on to a live-wire teenager in southwest Virginia during the opioid epidemic that ravaged this part of the state. Kingsolver grew up in Kentucky and lives in Virginia. She has railed, wonderfully, against the authenticity of vice-president JD Vance's memoir Hillbilly Elegy which, she said, was dismissed by neighbours for 'the hollowness, the fact that he isn't really one of us'. In the same 2024 Guardian interview , she said she has, despite the accolades, 'dealt with this condescension, this anti-hillbilly bigotry for a lot of my life'. [ Barbara Kingsolver: 'The first time I set foot in Ireland I felt so at home. Something about the language, the culture' Opens in new window ] Kingsolver is a fearsome defender against all the national prejudices Appalachia has faced down. More impressively, she has put her money where her mouth is. January marked the opening of the Higher Ground recovery centre in the town of Pennington Gap. It's a bungalow dwelling in the heart of the town that has been converted to a refuge for women recovering from addiction. The shelter is funded by Kingsolver, with absolutely no fanfare. Over lunch in the McDonald's down the street, Elizbeth Brooks, who grew up in Lee County and runs the centre, tells me she understands exactly what Kingsolver means by the casual prejudice thrown at Appalachians. 'I feel like it varies. I mean there is a stigma to our area. And we are – I don't know, most people just see those of us who live in Appalachia as hicks and hillbillies and all that. And they do. And … I agree with Barbara. On the TV shows and everything it's all they focus on. They don't focus on the beautiful areas up here. They don't spend time here. 'My own family, when we travel, if you go to a bigger area, people can be rude and disrespectful. Here we are friendly. My dad will wave at every single car. The finger raised from the wheel. Even the counties surrounding Lee County will kind of make jokes … 'Oh they're from Lee County'. Some people take offence. And especially with schools and stuff too. There's … a snobbery.' About eight years ago, one of the worst moments of Brooks's life catapulted her into an unlikely transformation. She was eight months pregnant with her first child when she says she was arrested and, because of previous charges, placed on a Court Recovery programme. She had, in her teens, graduated from alcohol and marijuana to opioids and methamphetamines, dropping out of Wise college and falling into a pattern of addiction. Elizabeth Brooks: 'If you go to a bigger area, people can be rude and disrespectful. Here we are friendly' 'When you are in addiction there is a lot of isolation,' she says. 'You shut everybody out.' A 2019 report by the Washington Post included data analysis recording that, between 2006-2012, 34.9 million opioids, or 120 pills per resident, were shipped into Wise County alone. Brooks regards her eldest child Jayden as 'my miracle baby'. She has been sober since July 7th, 2018, and was working as an addiction counsellor when she was asked to run the new centre. She speaks with Kingsolver regularly, usually on Zoom. 'She's been wonderful. I don't know how she does it because she's a very busy woman.' There are six women in the residence now. 'I do their medications. It's kind of about building up their stability and accountability and getting them stable in the real world. A couple of my girls … they are, I wouldn't say hot-headed, but they are little firecrackers. And their personalities clash a little. So, it is kind of learning how to be emotionally stable as well. I tell them: there is more to recovery than just being sober. You need to work on yourself, get your mental health right, get your job and just be accountable for yourself.' One of the very first residents, Crystal, who is working at the counter in McDonald's, talks about the transformative effect the home has had on her life. Brooks likes that prospective residents be sober for about five or six weeks before taking a place there and returning to employment is part of the deal. But it can be difficult finding a job in Lee County. The Appalachian Regional Commission reports that in Lee between 2018-2022, 26 per cent of people lived in poverty and the average household income was $41,000 (it is $75,000 nationally). Brooks works nine to five. Jayden is autistic. She is due to give birth to her third child this summer. Evenings are busy: weekends a chance to come up for air. 'I tell my girls too – I'm no different from they are or any better because in my recovery, at any point, it's always a battle for me, too, just like it is for them. I've learned a lot about my triggers and staying away from them situations I don't need and that's what keeps me sober. Because I'm not saying I still couldn't have a bad day and go down the wrong path. We were like a runaway train ... I felt like we didn't have any kind of leadership whatsoever — Hank Fannon 'And before my fiance now - a thousand people would tell you I would never be engaged to a police officer in my life. And I would never have been with somebody who treated me with the most respect, that I respect myself with. It's very different now, and I am very grateful.' She and her fiance have held back on their wedding date because of the growing uncertainty over Medicaid changes; her boy is dependent on the treatment he receives through the programme. She is closely tracking the political conversation on autism taking place in the capital. In April, US health secretary Robert F Kennedy pledged 'a massive testing and research effort' to determine the cause of autism. Trump has appeared to suggest that vaccines could be to blame for autism rates, although decades of research have concluded there is no link between the two. [ 'Slippery slope to eugenics': advocates reject Robert F Kennedy jnr's national autism database in US Opens in new window ] 'There aren't many options for my son around here. So that would affect him. I feel like that would have made a really big impact on the election if people knew that. Just because it is going to hurt everyone. And I don't really see the helping part of it. I don't understand how that helps because unless you have a child with autism you don't really – there is nothing that causes it. And I think they could have worded it a lot better.' Hank Fannon: 'Trump is the most patriotic thing that has come through in a long time' Still, this is steadfast Trump country. And the ARC reports slowly climbing figures of median income levels and employment throughout the region. There is no sign of any real crisis of faith in Trump Republicanism here. On the way back from Big Stone Gap, I find Hank Fannon at the telephone in the office of the immaculately tidy tyre business he owns. Like seemingly everyone in this part of the country, Fannon's voice is rich and melodic. A television in the corner of the office is showing Fox News on silent and images of Trump's recent visit to the Middle East. The Fannons are in both the tyre and real estate business. 'It's a little tighter-fisted than it was,' he says. 'But Trump … he's the most patriotic thing that has come through in a long time. That shooting, wherever it was ... that put him in the White House. And the tariff thing is impacting, yeah. I sell some American-made stuff. All the China-built stuff. It's probably raised prices, $20, $30 a tyre. And I can't eat nothin. 'People are subject to doing impulse spending with this kind of stuff. If you need a tyre, it's just like going to the doctor: hurt's bad; 'I gotta get something done now.' But we were like a runaway train the other way. I felt like we didn't have any kind of leadership whatsoever. I knew when Trump came back into play it would tighten up a little – for a while.' But property prices, always modest, are beginning to rise. Appalachia is not immune to the property escalation heist that has gripped America. People are noticing the extraordinary value to be had in this part of the country – and the stunning landscape. We talk for a while about the economic realities of the region. Fannon sighs before answering. 'This is a depressed community, first off. There is a lot of poverty here. So, indirectly I am living off fixed-income people. So … I don't know. It bothers me some. We sell real estate in this region and it has been cheap real estate. But right now ... you can put a sign in the yard. A lady died three weeks ago and her daughter and I went to school together. And it sold in two days.' Joey O'Quinn works part-time in the tourism centre and plays in a band called the Hillbilly Hippies It also sold for well above the asking price. Up in Big Stone Gap, Joey O'Quinn, who works part-time in the tourism centre, is talking to a friend of his, Les Bailey. There's a bottle of gift whiskey on the counter and they joke about never opening a second bottle before noon. Bailey is rushing off to take their mutual friend, Larry Mullins, to the doctor. They all play in a band called the Hillbilly Hippies. Tourism is beginning to make an impression. Big Stone Gap is slowly opening itself up to the idea that it can be an attraction to outsiders, with new restaurants and cafes alongside the staunch jeweller's and legal firms on the main street. It has the natural splendour and the unrivalled music heritage and – the scarcest of commodities – authenticity. The local cafes and restaurants are friendly and without affectation of any sort. O'Quinn, who worked as a regulator with mining companies, believes the future for this part of Virginia lies in tourism, flipping the 'hillbilly' stigma after centuries. 'We have to be sensitive to that balance. This has been an impoverished region, yes, since the 1800s. But there are so many good things in terms of music and the mountains and all that culture.' Close to the tight triangle of land where the three state lines of Tennessee, Virginia and Kentucky intersect, people driving the US-58 often do a double take as they pass by Junior Whitt's place. The striking thing about these counties is the absence of Trump banners or mementoes. But Whitt's place is a shrine to Maga-ism. Junior Whitt's place is a shrine to Maga-ism. Photograph: Keith Duggan He is sitting on a sun chair enjoying a smoke when I stop to ask him what inspired all of this. We find ourselves looking at the Confederate flags he has hanging. He says he hangs them because they are part of the history of the state, of the region. Often, strangers stop and ask to take photographs and Whitt will engage them in conversation. 'Well, from what I'm hearing all the time: they are for Trump,' he says in a gentle voice. 'They are not for the other side. I don't go for the transgender stuff and all this critical race theory stuff. I don't go for this stuff and a lot of other people don't go for it. That's why I'm against the Democrats. I don't vote for all that. And a lot of other people say, well, I don't vote for that either. I say, well, it's the same damn package. If you vote for 'em you, vote for it. They say, 'I never thought about it that way; you're right'. Yeah, I'm right. 'This house across the road ... they are big Democrats. We get along and everything. I hear it every day. People from out of state come through, see this, stop and walk around. And they're for Trump too. If the Democrats got back in, they would have destroyed us.' We chat for a while more. When there are no cars passing, it is incredibly serene here. Whitt waves an arm against the blue sky in the vague direction of his childhood home, on a farm near the Pow river. His parents were Democrats. He says his father would turn in his grave if he could see the party now. He sounds suddenly frustrated and tired by the state of American politics. 'See, back then you had some good Democrats. They sat down and talked with people.'
Irish Times
10 hours ago
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Weinstein case judge declares mistrial on remaining rape charge amid jury issues
The judge in Harvey Weinstein 's sex assaults trial declared a mistrial on the remaining rape charge after the jury foreperson said he would not continue deliberating. Deliberations ended on Thursday, a day after the jury delivered a partial verdict in Weinstein's sex crimes retrial. The jury in the Harvey Weinstein sexual misconduct case listens to a read back of testimony by a key witness. Photograph: Elizabeth Williams/AP The jury got stuck on a third charge – a rape accusation dating to 2013. The foreman complained on Wednesday that he felt bullied by another juror and said on Thursday he would not go back into the jury room. READ MORE The panel convicted the former Hollywood studio boss of one charge but acquitted him of another. Both of those charges concerned accusations of forcing oral sex on women in 2006. Those verdicts still stand. The jury of seven women and five men unanimously reached those decisions last Friday, the foreman later told the judge. The verdict was delivered on Wednesday only because Judge Curtis Farber asked whether there was agreement on any of the charges. The third charge was a rape accusation involving a woman who also said she had a consensual relationship with the Oscar-winning producer. Under New York law, the third-degree rape charge carries a lesser penalty than the other two counts. Weinstein denies all the charges. In an unusual exchange with the judge during some legal arguments before the partial verdict was disclosed on Wednesday, Weinstein insisted it was unfair to continue the trial after two jurors came forward with concerns about the proceedings. 'I can't be judged by a situation that's going on like this,' said Weinstein (73), claiming the judge was 'endangering' him. Jury-room strains started leaking into public view on Friday when a juror asked to be excused because he felt another was being treated unfairly. Then on Monday, the foreman complained that other jurors were pushing people to change their minds and talking about information beyond the charges. The man raised concerns again on Wednesday. In a closed-door discussion with prosecutors, defence lawyers and the judge, the foreman said another juror was shouting at him for sticking to his opinion and at one point vowed, 'You going to see me outside.' 'I feel afraid inside there,' the foreman told the judge and lawyers, according to a transcript. Weinstein's initial conviction five years ago seemed to cement the downfall of one of Hollywood's most powerful men in a pivotal moment for the #MeToo movement against sexual misconduct. Harvey Weinstein was convicted of one charge, was acquitted of another and a mistrial ruled on the third. Photograph: Jefferson Siegel /The New York Times via AP, Pool But that conviction was overturned last year and the case was sent back for retrial in the same Manhattan courthouse. Weinstein's accusers said he exploited his Hollywood influence to dangle career help, get them alone and then trap and force them into sexual encounters. His defence portrayed his accusers as wannabes and hangers-on who willingly hooked up with him to court opportunity, then later said they were victimised to collect settlement funds and #MeToo approbation. Miriam Haley, the producer and production assistant whom Weinstein was convicted of sexually assaulting, said outside court on Wednesday that the new verdict 'gives me hope'. Accuser Kaja Sokola also called it 'a big win for everyone,' even though Weinstein was acquitted of forcibly performing oral sex on her when she was a 19-year-old fashion model. Her allegation was added to the case after the retrial was ordered. Weinstein also was convicted of raping another woman in California. He is appealing that conviction. - AP
Extra.ie
12 hours ago
- Extra.ie
'He will be remembered until the world ends' -- Beach Boys co-founder Brian Wilson dies aged 82
Legendary singer/songwriter and the heart of the Beach Boys, Brian Wilson, has died at the age of 82 after a long battle with dementia. Carnie Wilson, of Wilson Philips fame took to Instagram to post about her dads passing and told her 250,000 followers, 'I have no words to express the sadness I feel right now, my father was every fiber of my body'. 'We are deeply saddened to say goodbye to our hero and Daddy, We know how he touched so many people with his musical gifts and we are so thankful for the support from everyone that knew him and all of his fans. May he rest in peace in music. Love & Mercy' Brian Wilson. Pic: MichaelCarnie Wilson added 'He will be remembered by millions and millions until the world ends. I am lucky to have been his daughter and had a soul connection with him that will live on always.' Carnie, herself a well known performer with the musical trio 'Wilson Phillips' with her sister Wendy Wilson, and Chynna Phillips Baldwin, said a year ago her dad had been 'well taken care of' as she reflected on his incredible life and career in music. Even though Brian Wilsons later years saw him receive full time care for dementia, Carnie Wilson says her father lived with so much gratitude for the life he had and the career that allowed him to tour the world and perform for millions of fans. She added ' We are a very big part of his life in helping to care for him, monitoring his health and making sure he's looked after' Brian Wilson with his daughter Carnie. Pic:Brian Wilson, who had dozens of hits with the beach boys, including California Girls, Good Vibrations and Wouldn't it be nice, passed away last night at the age of 82 after a long battle with dementia. In a statement on the Beach Boys official Instagram Page the bands co-founder Mike Love, described the singer songwriter as the 'heart of the band and the soul of our sound'. 'The melodies he dreamed up and the emotions he poured into every note changed the course of music forever. His unparalleled talent and unique spirit created the soundtrack of so many lives around the globe, including our own.' Beach Boys member Al Jardine also posted to Instagram to share a message for Wilson, whom he called his 'friend, my classmate, my football teammate, my Beach Boy bandmate and my brother in spirit.' 'I will always feel blessed that you were in our lives for as long as you were and I think the most comforting thought right now is that you are reunited with Carl and Dennis, singing those beautiful harmonies again.'
