I don't know what's wrong with Brian Wilson.
I first ran into him at the movies in late '78. Fredda and I were there to see "Unmarried Woman" or some other Mazursky-like picture at the United Artists theatre on Lindbrook and on my way back from the bathroom at the end of the show, there he was. He was in fantastic shape. And wearing a windbreaker with his name embroidered on the chest. You've got to understand, the Beach Boys are the reason I LIVE in southern California. It was only him and one other person. I went up to talk to him. He seemed STARTLED! He acknowledged my compliments. But it was clear we weren't going to have a conversation. Because he seemingly couldn't. Not because he was a star and didn't want to, but because he seemed to be locked up in his body, and was frozen like a deer in the headlights. But one very strange thing I noticed about him was the very few words he did speak emanated from the side of his mouth.
After becoming a recluse, Brian emerged spectacularly on record more than once. With "Til I Die" and "Sail On Sailor" most notably. But when he was TRULY back, when the publicity campaign was in full-force in '77, the resulting album, "The Beach Boys Love You", was beyond curious. It was child-like. And unfinished. And THAT'S when I started to realize...Brian was done, he wasn't coming back.
But try to come back he did again. With his '88 solo album. Which was nowhere near commensurate with the hype. Brian's voice was ragged. Almost all of the songs weren't rich, but throwaways. It was creepy. He disappeared into the wilderness once again.
Then, out of the blue came 1998's "Imagination". Once again, not all the songs were memorable. But it SOUNDED like the Beach Boys.
Oh, there were many Beach Boy sounds. But the one that blew our minds, that changed our perception of Brian Wilson from another Phil Spector to a God, was one with rich harmonies and sweeping orchestrations. Out of the blue, DECADES LATER, somehow Brian Wilson still had it.
And that he does. Locked up inside this hulk of a man is a musical genius who understands the sound. But he's not like you and me. He's not like the stars in "Us" or "People". He's not even like the retired English rock stars who appear on TV now and again. Rather, he's closer to someone locked in an institution. He's closer to "Rain Man".
If not helped on stage, he stumbles. When he speaks, it's like a child. Almost non-sequiturs.
But every once in a while, when his almost twenty piece band is cooking, he smiles. It's kind of like that movie "Awakenings", suddenly Brian's been unlocked. He's here with us. He understands the beauty. He's connecting with humanity. And then he goes back in his shell.
Maybe he had a stroke. Maybe that's why he only talks out of one side of his mouth. Maybe it's brain damage from too many drugs. It's not purely emotional, believe me. And he couldn't have been like this in the sixties, nobody would have given him a chance, paid attention. But, despite all the above, Brian's still got the music in him.
And so do we.
It's kind of creepy to go to a gig with almost everybody over fifty.
Most of these gigs don't work. Especially when the artists have had plastic surgery and try to project the image that they're still hip, that they still matter.
But most of these acts are period pieces. Or have become caricatures of themselves, like the Stones.
Hell, the Stones, despite their moniker as the world's greatest rock and roll band, are more akin to the Grateful Dead than Yes, or the prog rock musicians extraordinaire. So much of the show is mediocre. Some downright awful. But, on a good night, they lock in and it works, and is sometimes transcendent. Well, that's the way it used to be, in the seventies, when people were still really listening. Today the Stones can do anything on stage, it doesn't matter, the audience doesn't know any better, they're there to be able to tell their officemates they went to the gig, to relive a past they might not have had in the first place.
But going to a Brain Wilson show is different. It's not even about Brian Wilson. Rather, it's about his music. And when you hear that music you're blown away. Realizing his only rival is the Beatles. And that even though the fab foursome understood lyrics, changes and harmonies, Brian has all that, but in addition an extra room in his brain. That allows him to visualize ALL the music. Like a classical composer. He's working with many more paints, on a much larger canvas. HE is the greatest composer of the rock era.
I stopped going to gigs because Brian's voice was so awful. But maybe it was L.A., maybe it was that I was so close that I was paying attention to the penumbra more than the center. But last night it didn't seem to matter. Last night the music shone. So bright as to make the election irrelevant. So bright as to remind one that music is a worthwhile pursuit, something to dedicate your life to.
No, not stardom. Not what you see on MTV. This is FAR from that. This isn't evanescent, this is PERMANENT! And, stunningly, it's created live, by human beings, right in front of your very face. If children saw this they would be inspired to pick up instruments and become musicians. It would change the course of musical history. Because the values Brian Wilson represents, the sounds he creates, are so rich, so EAR-PLEASING, that they surpass any movie, any TV show. They make you feel alive.
Brian did all of "Smile". It was executed extremely well. I loved "Vega-Tables". But that was not the highlight of the evening.
Oh, believe me, "California Girls" was a highlight. The intro alone. But it was the deep album tracks he played that moved me. That made me throw off my perception of him as a bizarro and just had me reveling in the music. Sure, I remembered where I was when I heard these tunes, but that wasn't the primary connection, like at a nostalgia show. Rather, they still worked UNTO THEMSELVES!
There was the ethereal "Please Let Me Wonder".
There was the exquisite "Dance, Dance, Dance". With its lyric brilliantly painting the high school life.
But there was "Marcella".
"Marcella" was one of those gems from Brian's reclusive period. It was the lead-off track on a completely dismissible record, "Carl And the Passions/So Tough".
We had no CD players in 1972. We had to go over to the turntable and lift the arm to hear the same song again and again. And this I did with "Marcella".
Nobody else could have created "Marcella". A cross between the rounds of elementary school, Southern California, Leonard Bernstein and carnal sensibility. It's pure joy. On steroids. It takes you there, and then pushes you BEYOND!
Seemingly everybody in attendance but me knew that it was about Brian's masseuse. I learned only in one of Brian's few cogent between song patter moments.
"One arm over my shoulder
Sandals dance at my feet
Eyes that'll knock you right over
Ooh, Marcella so sweet"
You can PICTURE it. Brian up in the house in Bel Air. On the massage table. On a bright, sunny Southern California day. Being worked over by the kind of girl who only seems to EXIST in Southern California. Like out of the pages of a magazine, but with no attitude. Just getting through life, not looking for fame.
Still, the piece de resistance was "Add Some Music To Your Day".
"The world could come together as one
If everybody under the sun
Would add some music to their day"
I hate to admit it, but those in the red states are not immune to music either. Music has a power. Far greater than religion. Which may be why it's used in religion. Music is holy in a way that the written and spoken word are not. Music is TRANSCENDENT! You're walking through life, and suddenly there's something prettier than every member of the opposite sex, every vista, it's embracing you and you feel STUPENDOUS! Like you're on a ride at Disneyland, but you're not moving.
We need to focus on our commonalities in this country, not our differences. But I don't think this will happen. Because the red people don't like who I am in principle. They're not radically different from the Muslims. If you're not like them, you're a heathen. If I don't believe. If a girl I impregnate wants an abortion. If I want to question the wisdom of a President KILLING people and bankrupting the country I'm a TRAITOR!
Our only hope is to reach them through music. It happened in the sixties. It's not happening now. Rap is portraying a lifestyle they hate. And pop is irrelevant. And so much of it doesn't reach them anyway, since Wal-Mart acts as a filter.
I hope P2P wins just to remove Wal-Mart from the equation. And, when all music is easily accessible, the children in the red states will be exposed to mind-blowing tunes. Ones not filtered through the corporations, but stuff from the heart. Like the music of Brian Wilson.
But even if we end up living in a near-totalitarian state, we'll still have Brian and the Beach Boys' music.
It's got elation, like with "Surfin' USA".
It's got commentary on everyday life, like in "At The Drive-In".
But it's deeper than that. Laid out clearly in "Add Some Music To Your Day".
"Music when you're alone
Is like a companion
For your lonely soul"
This is why I'm a music fan. It's the only thing I can count on to be there for me. When the world's got me down, I can go in my room and be transported. To a better place. A place of beauty.
I'd like to tell you that last night at Disney Brian was really back.
But Brian's never coming back.
Oh, there's somebody that looks like him up on stage. But that's not why you go.
Yes, you do go to worship. But you're not sure Brian even gets your adulation. Really, you go for the MUSIC! To hear almost perfect renditions of music that changed my life that barely seems dated, that's outlasted all the hit ditties along the way.
And despite all the grayhairs in the audience, of all the music of the sixties, it's Brian's that most present, almost ubiquitous.
Credit Radio Disney. Kids know every Beach Boy hit.
Maybe in time they'll know the later material.
Then again, the genius was evident early, in "Catch A Wave", with that harp!
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