A Euphonical Eulogy for Brian Wilson

Euphonical, as in good sounds. i.e., vibrations.

We don't write much about music anymore, but we can't let the passing of Brian Wilson go unmentioned, since he is not only in my S-tier of musicians, but his music has provided me with so much pleasure and solace over the years. Some artists just touch your soul. Which, by the way, is how you know you have one. Or at least one way to find out, because soul communicates to soul.

It was during a period of depression in the mid-1970s that I discovered the depth and expanse of his work, beyond the familiar hits of the 1960s. His music often has a melancholy beauty, which I suppose spoke to me at the time. The hits are great, but there's so much more to his artistry. Even at his most dysfunctional, he was still able to create transcendent music, as we will hear below. 

Writing eulogies is not in my wheelhouse, but the man's music means a great deal to me. It's even difficult for me to write this without getting a little choked up. Which is neither here nor there, because music is so personal, one man's spiritual nourishment can be another man's dreck. 

Nevertheless, we'll try. I've included a lot of videos, but these can only scratch the surface. I hope it's not too tedious, as other peoples' musical recommendations so often are. (BTW, Paul Johnson at PowerLine takes a different tack, highlighting a number of tracks leading up to his 1966 classic, Pet Sounds, whereas mine mostly come after).

There are many great artists, but more often then not they have a roughly ten year window of real creativity, after which they just recycle and coast, like McCartney or the Stones. Only a handful have been great for 40, 50, or even 60 years. Off the top of my head I can think of Duke Ellington, Dylan, and Van Morrison. Brian Wilson's solo work from the late '80s through the 2010s can't match his earlier peaks, but much of it is quite good. He never lost his knack for beguiling melodies and luxuriant harmonies.

Wilson, of course, struggled with severe mental illness from around 1964 on, later exacerbated by drug abuse, which probably persisted into the early '90s. It is remarkable how much he suffered and yet how much beauty he was able to channel into the world. The man was Plugged In, and produced some of the most spiritually resonant and uplifting music I've ever heard in the pop genre.

Like so many other artists, he was able to transmit a joy to others that eluded him. Not that he didn't have times of happiness, not to mention a playful sense of humor, but his illness ran the gamut from depression to panic to delusions and auditory hallucinations. This song from 1971 conveys what it felt like to be him at the time:

He was aware of his spiritual gift. Back when he was working on what I consider to be his greatest work, Smile, he called it a "teenage symphony to God." He was also proud of having written a top 40 hit with the word "God" in the title (God Only Knows), and come to think of it, one of the Beach Boys' last singles was That's Why God Made the Radio in 2012. It doesn't compare to his greatest works -- the production is too slick -- but the harmonies are, as usual, heavenly:

For me, the music itself seems to come from a spiritual dimension -- like the invocatory Our Prayer which opens Smile: 

The digital era has been a golden age for Beach Boys fans, because not only has the music been remixed into true stereo (Brian only mixed for mono, because he was deaf in one ear, supposedly as a result of being slapped by his abusive father, breaking an ear drum), but you can listen to just the track with vocals stripped, and hear all the nuances of the complex and innovative arrangements, or just the vocals, in which you can appreciate the genius of the harmonies -- for example in Wouldn't It Be Nice:

Picking one at random, I love the track of Sloop John B. Notice how much more elaborate it is than it needs to be -- why a glockenspiel? This is only supposed to be disposable pop music!

Here is a montage from Smile, which shows the insane creativity of his vocal arrangements. Indeed, he seems to have thought in five part harmony:

He was not known as a lyricist, and yet, his lyrics often have such an innocent, transparent, and vulnerable childlike quality. They have a charm of their own, such as in Busy Doin' Nothin'. No one else could pull off such lyrical banality in an era when everyone was trying to sound like Dylan:

This next one came out in 1977, when Brian was at his most deranged, and the Beach Boys were trying to get him out of bed and involved in the group again. It is one of the most eccentric albums you'll ever hear, with this particular song seemingly addressed to his baby. Except, according to Gemini,

While the lyrics strongly suggest a parental perspective, and many fans and biographers interpret "I Want to Pick You Up" as being about a child, Brian Wilson himself initially gave a different explanation.

According to interviews from the time of the album's release, Brian Wilson stated that the song is about "a man who considers this chick a baby." He elaborated, saying, "she's too big to pick up, of course. But he wants to; he wants to pretend she's small like a baby: He really wants to pick her up!"

This explanation has led to some debate and varying interpretations. Some find it unsettling, while others believe it's a reflection of his complex mental state at the time the album The Beach Boys Love You was created.

It's also worth noting that Brian Wilson's lyrical abilities and intentions were sometimes affected by his mental health struggles, and he wasn't always the clearest or most consistent in explaining his creative process. 

I still think it's just about a baby: 

 

In the late '60s he withdrew from the group, so they had to try to rebuild a career without him. To save money, they recorded in Brian's home studio, which was below his bedroom. Every once in awhile he'd hear something that caught his interest -- some good vibrations? -- and he'd scuttle downstairs to give advice or tweak a song. At the same time, he continued to toss off masterpieces such This Whole World (this is an a cappella mix):

Or this one (also vocals only):

In 1972 the Boys -- who were at a commercial bottom -- tried going into a more R & B direction, for which Brian contributed this uncharacteristically funky track (once again with the vocals isolated), You Need a Mess of Help to Stand Alone. Still plenty of harmony going on, but much more ragged:

One of his first compositions was Surfer Girl, which he admits was inspired by When You Wish Upon a Star, which he later recorded as a solo artist:

My favorite? Impossible to choose, but maybe Surf's Up from the Smile Sessions:

 

I saw Brian Wilson live in around 2000, when he and his band performed the entirety of Pet Sounds. He often ended his concerts with Love and Mercy:

One more -- the last song from the last Beach Boys' album, Summer's Gone. Which is impossible, since Brian Wilson invented summer, and, thanks to his music, it's endless. At least in my mind.

Thank you, Brian. I can only hope you are finally at peace, and that you have found, in the words of C.S. Lewis, "the place where all the beauty came from."