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The Guardian

‘I yearned to be a California Girl – but I lived in Burnley': readers on their love for Brian Wilson

I remember the Christmas after my mother's death in 1989 when I was 15, I purchased the best-of collection from Asda, interested to see what I would hear. It had the hits, of course, but also a few of the deeper cuts from Pet Sounds and onwards. To say this changed my life is an understatement – Brian's music, harmonies and subject matters struck an incredible chord in me. It did exactly what he existed for, bringing comfort to a heart and soul that needs it. I've been a fan ever since – I saw him at the Royal Festival Hall on his first Pet Sounds tour, watched him perform Smile in utter disbelief and wonder in Liverpool, while finally introducing his amazing show to my beautiful wife at the Summer Pops in Liverpool. Quite simply the greatest musician to ever live, in my opinion. Stephen Woodward, 50, Liverpool I first heard California Girls when I was 10 years old. I yearned to be that tanned girl with the bleached blond hair. However, I lived in Burnley, a northern mill town with grey skies and a surfeit of rain! Nonetheless, the Beach Boys' music transported me to those white sandy beaches, fringed with palm trees and lapped by the Pacific waves. As I got older, the music of Brian Wilson evolved, too. Those exquisite harmonies and lyrics continued to move and enthral me. He was a musical genius and his music still manages to evoke in me every human emotion possible. Catherine, Leeds It was 1988 at the Savoy Hotel, London, when I had my brief but indelible encounter with the Beach Boy myth and legend. I was in my formative years as a portrait photographer, and Brian Wilson was being revealed to the press by his doctor and manager, Eugene Landy. Stepping out of the lift on to the top floor, I was greeted by the ethereal melodies of a piano drifting through the corridor – Brian was composing in his penthouse suite. His two assistants greeted me with smiles. I set up my lighting and asked Brian to sit – he looked deeply into the lens and froze. After just three frames, the assistants intervened, politely informing me the session was over. Before I left, the assistants insisted on photographing me alongside him. Two polaroids were required – one for litigation purposes and another as a personal keepsake. For the first one, I played my best poker face. For the second, the memento, I decided to playfully raise an eyebrow. I snatched the Polaroid before the ink was dry, bid them all adieu and beat a hasty exit. As the image developed, two figures surfaced from the darkness – Brian and me, shoulder-to-shoulder, both with raised eyebrows! To me, in that moment of lucidity, Brian was gentle and respectful. That's how I remember my encounter with the legend. Gavin Evans, photographer, Berlin I grew up in Corby in the 90s and felt about as far away as possible from the Beach Boys' music. I think that's precisely why I fell in love with it. It felt transportive. I had the chance to see Brian Wilson perform Pet Sounds in Barcelona in 2016, which felt close to a perfect moment, the kind of thing I'd dreamed of as a child. When my first child was born 18 months ago, Pet Sounds was the first music I ever played for her. Jack Roe, writer and photographer, Liverpool I cannot help agreeing that Brian was the Mozart of the US and in spite of all plaudits he remains vastly underrated. If I play At My Piano for Swiss friends who are probably far less aware of the Beach Boys, they all love the beautiful melodies even without the affectionate and tender lyrics. The man was gentleness and love personified. Most people seem unaware of his later work, some of which definitely rivals his finest Pet Sounds moments for its amazing harmonies, arrangements, tender poetic lyrics and haunting melody. He was courageous over a testing lifetime and leaves a wonderful musical legacy. Kingsley Flint, 76, retired, Cossonay, Switzerland Musical composition isn't an exact science: most of us could shove a few chords together to make verses and a chorus, put it in a 4/4 time signature and voila! There's the basis of a pop song. But carrying that series of chord progressions to a higher form, and communicating feeling that touches almost all human souls who hear it, is what Brian Wilson did. Through his music, Brian invited us to grow up with him, and we did. Eamon McCrisken, 58, language coach, Spain I never met him but he did phone me up in 2005 after I donated to a charity appeal for the tsunami where he promised to ring everyone who donated a certain amount. One day, my wife and I were eating and let the phone go to the answering machine when it rang. I've never moved as quick as when I heard his unmistakable voice saying: 'Hi James, this is Brian Wilson calling from California.' Luckily I caught him before he hung up and got to tell him how much his music meant to me. I'll treasure that call forever. James Ellaby, 44, senior content writer, Manchester As a teen, I thought the Beach Boys were a bit naff. Later in life, having grown up a fair bit, I bought Pet Sounds and a greatest hits compilation on a whim, and was floored on first listen by how Brian captured and blended the essential dichotomy of life: beauty and ugliness, happiness and sadness, optimism and pessimism, ennui and joy. His music made me smile and cry, sometimes simultaneously, in a way that no music had before. Now, I feel a hole in my heart knowing that Brian is gone and that the world has lost a musical oracle, and I wonder: can anyone ever make us feel these things again? Lachlan Walter, 46, writer, Melbourne, Australia Since I was about 10, I have loved the music of the Beach Boys. By the time I was starting to date, finding and losing love, Brian's songs were there soundtracking my life like he knew me and I felt I knew him. I think all his fans felt a profoundly deep affection for him, an empathy for his suffering and a desire to make him feel as happy and loved as he made us feel. One memory about him particularly stands out for me. A few months after I first saw Pet Sounds live, my daughter was born. She was crying in my arms and I sang God Only Knows to her and she stopped crying straight away – it's our song now. Oliver Learmonth, 55, creative artist, Brighton In January 2002, I was at home in Holland when I found out Brian would be playing the whole of Pet Sounds in London the following week. How had I missed this news? As I quickly found out, the gigs were all sold out. No matter, I had to go. I invented a spurious excuse to visit my company's office in London, and the following Monday I was at the Royal Festival Hall box office at 10am, to be told: 'We occasionally get returns from ticket agencies. You could try coming back at 5pm.' I was there at 3pm, ferreting among early arrivals in the hope of a spare. No luck. But at 5pm, the box office had a couple of returns. Pricey, but what the hell: side stalls ticket W24 was mine, and canyoueffin'believeit, this turned out to be the front row on the right side of the stage, only a few feet from guitarist Jeffrey Foskett's head. At 50, I was as excited as a kid at Christmas. Andy, 74, retired administration manager, Preston