Brian Wilson, Beach Boys cofounder and 'God Only Knows' genius, dies at 82
Brian Wilson, Beach Boys cofounder and 'God Only Knows' genius, dies at 82
Show Caption
Hide Caption
Brian Wilson, Beach Boys creative genius, dead at age 82
Brian Wilson, the genius behind sunny Beach Boys songs that helped define popular music in the '60s, has died.
Brian Wilson, an eclectic genius whose sunny Beach Boys songs helped define a revved-up era of American popular music, has died at age 82.
Wilson's family announced his death on social media Wednesday, June 11, and did not cite a cause.
"We are heartbroken to announce that our beloved father Brian Wilson has passed away. We are at a loss for words right now," the post on X read. "Please respect our privacy at this time as our family (is) grieving. We realize that we are sharing our grief with the world. Love & Mercy."
USA TODAY has reached out to Wilson's rep for comment.
Wilson is survived by daughters from his first marriage, Carnie and Wendy, who achieved success as part of Wilson Phillips, and five adopted children from his second marriage to Melinda Ledbetter.
Wilson's epic career arc spanned most of his life and was as defined by prolonged bouts of mental illness as it was by meticulously constructed pop confections.
Essential Brian Wilson songs: 'God Only Knows,' 'Good Vibrations' and more
Despite decades away from the musical mainstream in the 1970s and '80s, when his psychological torments were most aggressive, Wilson's towering impact was never in question. The sublime harmonizing on beach- and car-themed tunes such as "California Girls" or "Little Deuce Coupe" came to define the Southern California ethos, while the inspired orchestration on the Wilson-produced album "Pet Sounds" caused a bowled-over Beatles to respond with "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band."
Brian Wilson was drawn to music early on and succeeded despite obstacles
Wilson achieved such heights despite issues that could have been insurmountable. As a musically precocious child, he was found to have significant hearing loss in his right ear. Its surmised cause ranged from a birth defect to physical abuse at the hands of Wilson's authoritarian father, who in the early days managed the family band that paired siblings with cousins.
Wilson was born June 20, 1942 in Inglewood, California, a Los Angeles suburb that would boom in the post-war years as a hub for everything from aerospace jobs to nascent TV production.
Wilson was a tall, blond and handsome jock, a football quarterback who was popular at school and not much of a student. His interest in music was consuming and led the teenager to spend hours playing piano and learn the basics of composition and even sound engineering when the gift of a tape recorder found him overdubbing vocals with his brothers and mother.
Inspired by the vocal harmonies of groups such as the Four Freshmen, Wilson in the fall of 1961 formed a band with his brothers Carl and Dennis, cousin Mike Love, and friend Al Jardine.
Initially, their name was the Pendletones, a reference to the then-popular Pendleton plaid shirt. But the small record label that released their debut single 'Surfin'',' produced by their manager father Murray and a nod to a new beach craze, renamed them the Beach Boys. Only Dennis Wilson actually surfed, but the zeitgeist-nailing moniker stuck.
Over the next four years, the Beach Boys ruled the airwaves. Wilson crafted 3-minute harmony-rich pop triumphs aimed at teens much the way his producing idol, Phil Spector, had captured that same audience with his fabled Wall of Sound effects. Celebrating cars, surfing and teen romance, the hits poured from Wilson's pen: 'Surfin' U.S.A,' '409,' 'Be True to Your School,' 'California Girls.'
But Wilson's ambitions almost immediately ranged far beyond simply appearing in a popular act. In 1963 alone, the 22-year-old wunderkind had sung, produced, arranged and otherwise guided dozens of songs for groups such as Jan and Dean, the Honeys and the Castells. But a challenge to his genius would soon arrive from overseas.
Beach Boys, Beatlemania and the perfection of 'Pet Sounds'
Just as Wilson and the Beach Boys were enjoying chart-topping success with 'I Get Around' and its B-side, 'Don't Worry Baby,' Beatlemania swept the U.S. Wilson saw the Mop Tops as formidable challengers and rivals to his band's otherwise undisputed stranglehold on the airwaves.
While that rivalry caused Wilson to double down in the studio, it also started to reveal cracks in his fragile psyche that soon would turn into debilitating chasms.
By the mid-'60s, Wilson had begged off most Beach Boys tours so he could stay in the studio and avoid the public limelight, with Bruce Johnston eventually replacing him permanently on tour. Frustration over being pigeon-holed as a surf band grew, as did increasingly emotional outbursts and rumors of growing drug use, particularly acid.
Nevertheless, after being holed up for months at home writing music, Wilson unveiled a masterpiece in May 1966. 'Pet Sounds,' which included now-classic songs ranging from the theremin-infused 'Good Vibrations' to the aching 'God Only Knows,' didn't immediately strike a chord with fans, but it knocked out the Beatles. The Fab Four used 'Pet Sounds' as inspiration for taking their own studio adventures to new heights and responded in May 1967 with their own coup de grace, "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band."
Wilson then planned his own response to the Beatles opus was a new album called 'Smile.' But that effort would only see the light of day in 2011.
Brian Wilson's mental health and fraught relationships
Instead of a new triumph, Wilson descended into seclusion. In later years, he would be diagnosed as having schizoaffective disorder, a mental health condition marked by hallucinations, depression and paranoia. Often, he heard voices. Cloistered in his Bel Air mansion, Wilson did drugs and ate obsessively.
Although Wilson stayed connected with the group he founded and would offer a range of creative input from his isolation, his condition became more extreme after the death of the family patriarch in 1973. Stories circulated of Wilson's strange behavior, including rumors of him rarely leaving his bed, impromptu appearances at Los Angeles clubs in just a bathrobe and slippers, and turning away visiting stars such as Paul and Linda McCartney.
Carnie Wilson calls Beach Boys dad Brian Wilson 'the strongest person I know'
In 1976, Wilson managed a bit of a comeback into public life after going into the care of controversial psychologist Eugene Landy. But the comeback would not last. Although able to still function in the studio on occasion, Wilson resumed his self-destructive routine, eventually overdosing in 1982. Family members then asked Landy to return, who agreed on the condition that he be able to take over all of Wilson's affairs. A destructive relationship ensued.
In 1988, the album 'Brian Wilson' marked the singer and producer's return to the musical spotlight, generally receiving positive reviews. But it was largely overshadowed by the Beach Boys' own hit 'Kokomo,' their first hit since 'Good Vibrations' and a song that had no input from their founder.
Wilson's solo outings were emblematic of the schism that had developed between him and the group he founded. The deepest rift was with cousin and lead singer Love, who in earlier days objected to Wilson veering away from the chart-topping fare of the band's youth in favor of more experimental music such as the sound-effects laden creativity found on "Pet Sounds."
Love frequently disparaged Wilson in the media, and later successfully sued his cousin for retroactive songwriting credits. Love also retained the rights to the Beach Boys name, and spent decades touring with some of the original members while Wilson was left to hit the road under his own name.
But despite the ongoing tensions, the '90s saw Wilson gradually get his house in order. A conservatorship suit filed by Wilson's family dissolved what remained of Landy's stranglehold on his one-time patient's affairs. Wilson then collaborated in 1995 with producer Don Was on a documentary about his life, 'Brian Wilson: I Just Wasn't Made for These Times,' and in 1999 embarked on his first solo tour.
A reinvigorated legacy came later in life for Brian Wilson
Finally under traditional medical care and medicine, Wilson was able to better access his gifts in the new millennium.
In 2010, he released a well-received album re-imagining George Gershwin staples, the storied composer who allegedly first inspired a young Wilson when he heard 'Rhapsody in Blue' as a child. In 2014, Wilson's life and times were the subject of a well-reviewed biopic called 'Love & Mercy,' starring both John Cusack and Paul Dano as an older and younger Brian Wilson.
Reinvigorated in his latter years, Wilson hit the road in 2016 to perform 'Pet Sounds' in its entirety, and continued to entertain fans before and after the COVID-19 pandemic.
The inspired young musician who first rounded up a band in his teens saw no reason to stop entertaining as a grandfather, perhaps in part make to up for all those lost decades.
'Retirement? Oh, man. No retiring,' Wilson told Rolling Stone in 2016. 'If I retired I wouldn't know what to do with my time. What would I do? Sit there and go, 'Oh, I don't want to be 74'? I'd rather get on the road.'
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Yahoo
14 minutes ago
- Yahoo
Martin Scorsese and David Tedeschi on ‘Beatles '64,' the Fab Four's Influence on Cinema, and David Lynch at Their First U.S. Concert
The Beatles are one of the 20th century's most exhaustively documented bands, from television series like 'The Beatles Anthology' and feature films like Richard Lester's 'A Hard Day's Night' to documentaries by Albert and David Maysles, Ron Howard, and Peter Jackson, among others. One would think there was little left to explore, but the miracle of the Disney+ documentary 'Beatles '64' is that it manages to feel completely fresh and new — largely by giving the viewer the visceral experience of what it was like to experience The Beatles' first visit to America via the recollections of people who were there. One person who vividly remembers what it was like to first hear The Beatles' music is Martin Scorsese, who produced 'Beatles '64' in the hope that it would convey the exuberance that the band's first visit to America inspired. 'You have to understand, it was the end of the origins of rock and roll,' Scorsese told IndieWire. 'You had Motown, you had Phil Spector and the Wall of Sound — which influenced me a great deal in 'Mean Streets' and other films — you had the girl groups and Smokey Robinson and there was still a lot going on, but [rock and roll] needed something fresh. And America needed something fresh too.' More from IndieWire 'In Your Dreams' Teaser: The Search for the Sandman Powers Netflix's New Animated Sibling Fantasy Gold List TV Honors 'Squid Game,' 'Deli Boys,' 'The Studio,' and More That's because the country was, when The Beatles arrived on American shores in February 1964, still reeling from the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, a tragedy that 'Beatles '64' uses as a structuring device in order to give the band's visit context. 'The devastation was unlike anything anyone had experienced in our generation,' Scorsese said. 'The country was ready for something new.' Yet as Scorsese points out, and the documentary demonstrates, The Beatles were initially met with skepticism. 'They were touted as kind of an oddity because they had hair that was long, and the press couldn't wait to attack them,' Scorsese said. 'We didn't take them that seriously. There was an attitude we all had of, 'Yeah, show us.'' Scorsese followed the press coverage of The Beatles' arrival and assumed they were just a 'nonsense novelty' act — until he heard 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand' on the radio for the first time while getting ready to go to class at NYU film school. 'I heard the first few beats, and I just stood there. I was late for class,' Scorsese said. 'I listened and I admitted to myself, 'That's really good,' and as soon as I got to NYU I was telling everybody, 'This is not some ripoff — this is for real.' There was something joyous about it, and I don't think we can ever really describe the uplifting effect of not only their musical ability, but the writing and the lyrics. An extraordinary change occurred in the youth of the country after the disaster of the assassination.' Scorsese, frequent producing partner Margaret Bodde, and director David Tedeschi had access to extraordinary archival footage shot by Albert and David Maysles that enabled them to give the audience a sense of the immediate impact The Beatles had. Most of the Maysles' footage has barely been seen since it was shot, partly due to clearance issues and partly because United Artists didn't want the material in general release where it could dilute the appeal of 'A Hard Day's Night.' Thanks to restoration work by Peter Jackson's Park Road Post Production, most of the footage looks and sounds like it was shot yesterday. For Tedeschi, the key to utilizing the Maysles' footage was taking advantage of their talent as interviewers. As great as all the backstage and concert footage of the band itself is, what really conveys the magic of the moment is Tedeschi's use of interviews the Maysles did with the group's fans. 'I was lucky enough to work with Al Maysles on [Scorsese's Rolling Stones concert film] 'Shine a Light,'' Tedeschi told IndieWire. 'Marty hired him to shoot behind-the-scenes stuff. You'd see him disarm whoever he was with.' Tedeschi feels that the Maysles' talent for making interviewees feel at ease is what really makes the footage 'Beatles '64' had to work with special. 'It's not surprising to me that they were able to capture The Beatles,' Tedeschi said. 'What's surprising to me is how a 15-year-old girl on the street who has had no media training is somehow calm and able to project themselves and has great charisma.' Scorsese was able to witness the Maysles at work back in the 1960s when he was at NYU and looking for a job. 'They were making a changeover from black and white to color, and they always used available light,' Scorsese said. 'But you couldn't do that with color at the time, so my job was to hold the lamp. Now, the problem is that they're directing without telling you anything, so you have to anticipate where Al's going with the camera to give him a little bit of light. In a sense, it was an extraordinary master class in visual interpretation, in creating narrative when nothing is staged.' 'Beatles '64' contains not only the Maysles material and other archival footage, but new interviews conducted by Bodde, Scorsese, and Tedeschi with subjects from the two surviving Beatles (Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr) to fans who saw their first concerts — including director David Lynch in one of his final filmed interviews before he passed away earlier this year. The filmmakers were stunned to learn that, as a young art student, David Lynch attended The Beatles' first ever American concert at the Washington Coliseum — and that he had another connection to the narrative they were telling. 'One thing he said that didn't make the film was pretty fascinating,' Tedeschi said. 'As a Boy Scout, he had been an usher at Kennedy's inauguration. When it came down to it, it was extraordinary how many people were at the New York Carnegie Hall show, at the Washington Coliseum, and in Miami — many people who went on to do great things.' Interviewing McCartney and Starr was a challenge for Scorsese and Tedeschi, who didn't want to repeat old stories — no easy feat with celebrities as extensively interviewed as The Beatles. Luckily, Tedeschi was able to talk with McCartney as the rock and roller was curating a photographic exhibit dedicated to The Beatles in 1964. 'The photographs jogged his memory and created a way to have a conversation more than just an interview,' Tedeschi said. In the case of Starr, the filmmakers got him to open up by going through all of the old clothes he kept from the time. Another way that 'Beatles '64' makes enthusiasm for The Beatles infectious is through the way in which Starr himself seems not to have aged — as he goes through his old clothes and displays his old drum set, he demonstrates a youthful energy not dissimilar from the much younger man we see in the archival footage. In the brief moments Scorsese shares with Starr on camera, he seems to get younger, too — as though he's getting back in touch with that NYU film student who first fell in love with the band. 'It's almost as if you can't quite believe this amount of time has passed,' Scorsese said of his experience interviewing Starr. 'I would have been a different interviewer 30, 40 years ago. But following them and other great artists, from the Stones to Dylan to The Band to Van Morrison, you go along for this whole period of people taking these long artistic journeys, and you change. And somehow you tap into that original excitement about the joy of music, and what that music means as an observation of the life we're leading or trying to lead.' Scorsese and Tedeschi, who have worked together in various capacities for around 20 years now, are still not only passionate about music but energized by the challenge of finding a cinematic language with which to express their feelings. 'The problem is how to say it, in other words, the visual narrative,' Scorsese said, noting that he and Tedeschi are struggling with that very problem right now on their upcoming Robbie Robertson documentary. 'We shot the memorial concert, and Dave is now assembling it,' Scorsese said. 'We're smack in the middle of figuring out what this is. We know it's a concert, but there's got to be something that takes us on a trip, or gives us an experience where we can appreciate more where the music came from and how it affects people today.' According to Tedeschi, the challenge is finding a way to get the feelings he witnessed in the artists at the tribute concert onto the screen in a way that's clear. 'We shot the tribute concert along with the rehearsals, and there were tremendous artists,' Tedeschi said. 'Eric Clapton, Van Morrison, Allison Russell…and it's very interesting to see The Band's music and Robbie's music played by different artists, all of whom have been really touched by The Band and affected by it. We're working to take that excitement and the musicality and beauty of that and turn it into something more like a movie.' 'Beatles '64' is currently streaming on Disney+. Best of IndieWire The Best Thrillers Streaming on Netflix in June, from 'Vertigo' and 'Rear Window' to 'Emily the Criminal' All 12 Wes Anderson Movies, Ranked, from 'Bottle Rocket' to 'The Phoenician Scheme' Nightmare Film Shoots: The 38 Most Grueling Films Ever Made, from 'Deliverance' to 'The Wages of Fear'
New York Times
20 minutes ago
- New York Times
Like His Music, Brian Wilson's Style Was Deceptively Complex
The band name was a fluke. Looking to cash in on the burgeoning surf culture in the United States, the record executive who first brought Brian Wilson, Dennis Wilson, Carl Wilson, Mike Love and Al Jardine together on the obscure Candix Records label in Southern California wanted to call the assembled musicians 'The Surfers.'' But another group, as it happened, had already claimed the name. And then there was an additional problem: only one of the band members, Dennis Wilson, actively surfed. And so, as Brian Wilson — the architect of the band's sound and image, whose death, at 82, was announced by his family on Wednesday — tweeted back in 2018, the promoter Russ Regan 'changed our name to the Beach Boys.' He added that the group members themselves found out only after they saw their first records pressed. Originally, the band had another name. It was one that speaks not only to the aural backdrop the Beach Boys provided for generations but also to their enduring influence on global style. As teenagers in the late 1950s and early '60s, the band had styled itself the Pendletones. It was a homage to what was then, and in some ways still is, an unofficial uniform of Southern California surfers: swim trunks or notch pocket khakis or white jeans, and a blazing white, ringspun cotton T-shirt worn under a sturdy woolen overshirt. The shirts the Pendletones wore were produced by the family-owned company, Pendleton Woolen Mills of Portland, Ore., and had been in production since 1924. The shirts were embraced by surfers for their over-the-top durability and the easy way they bridged the intersection between work and leisure wear. The blue and gray block plaid, which Pendleton would later rename as the 'Original Surf Plaid,'' was worn by every member of the Beach Boys on the cover of their debut album, 'Surfin' Safari.' It was a look that, novel then, has since been quoted in some form by men's wear designers from Hedi Slimane to Eli Russell Linnetz and Ralph Lauren. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
Yahoo
25 minutes ago
- Yahoo
I created my own funeral photo montage — so I know I'll be remembered at my hottest
What was meant to be a low-key night of snacks and laughs took an unexpectedly emotional turn for two best friends. Instead of their usual catch-up routine, Alexis arrived at Jasmine's home with a laptop and a surprise: a fully edited 24-minute funeral montage of herself, complete with dramatic music, touching tributes, and heartfelt messages. 'I made my funeral montage,' Alexis told People she said as she casually as she connected her computer to the TV. Jasmine was in shock. 'Girl, get this out of my house!' she said. The moment, captured in a now-viral TikTok video, resonated with thousands online. 'Having a morbid best friend who works in funeral and cemetery services is not for the weak,' Jasmine captioned the video. Alexis has spent over six years working in the funeral industry, and for her, confronting mortality isn't unusual. She says her Mexican-American background, which embraces death as a natural part of life, influenced her perspective. 'I've always been a little morbid and creepy,' she admits with a laugh. The idea for the montage stemmed from recent personal events. A motorcycle accident involving Jasmine's cousin left the family scrambling due to a lack of legal or end-of-life plans. 'He's a young man, so he had no will, he had no nothing,' Alexis said. 'That was one of the questions I was asking: does he have anything like a power of attorney? Who's making the decisions here?' Fortunately, he survived, but the incident made her realize how important it was to plan ahead and inspired her to take control of her own legacy. Alexis didn't stop at just the video. She's written her will, assigned power of attorney and even designated who will inherit her favorite Star Wars t-shirts. 'I'm really particular, and I don't trust anybody to do things the way that I want to do it,' she said. 'If this happens to me, you make sure I'm right. Don't have me looking all crazy with two different-shaped eyebrows. I got to have my nails done. I want a specific color of flowers.' Though Jasmine initially reacted with humor and disbelief, the montage soon had both women in tears. 'By pre-planning and getting your affairs in order and even doing stuff like this, you're unburdening your family from having to do this,' Alexis explained. 'I've been in this situation where I've had to put this together at the time of somebody's passing, and you're just miserable.' Going viral caught them by surprise. Jasmine originally shared it privately on Instagram, thinking it was just another funny moment between friends. But viewers were captivated by the blend of dark humor and genuine love between the two women. 'It just so happened to go viral,' Jasmine said. 'At the time, I wasn't thinking about that. But I was like, let me show all the people that follow me what this dummy's up to today. Because it's always something with her.' Some commenters expressed concern that Alexis was 'manifesting' her death, but both women dismiss that. 'Planning your funeral is no different from writing a will,' Jasmine said. 'It's not about expecting the worst. It's about being prepared.' For Alexis, laughter is a key part of her approach to life and death. 'I just want everyone to be miserable without me,' she joked. But she also wants them to smile and laugh, too. Her perspective has influenced Jasmine as well. 'I used to be super afraid of death. Like, don't even talk about it,' Jasmine admitted. 'But being friends with her, going through my own medical traumas and things, I've learned to cope with it through comedy, laughing, and accepting it. We all know we're going to pay taxes, and we're all going to die. None of us know when.' Their friendship, built on honesty, laughter and shared experience, has helped both women embrace difficult conversations and find joy in the unexpected. 'Nothing in life is ever that serious,' Alexis said. 'Even death.'
