Like the late Sly Stone, Brian Wilson, who died yesterday at age 82, was collateral damage of a culture that in the 1960s insisted LSD was a safe alternative to alcohol and narcotics and freed you from your inhibitions. What wasn't known is that not everyone reacted the same way to the hallucinogenic. Some took it occasionally or often and could still live a normal life when they weren't high. [Photo above with Brian Wilson in his trailer pre-concert at California's Mid-State Fair in 2016]
Others dropped acid and found it did permanent damage to their brains. Or put more simply, they took a trip but never fully returned. Brian was one of those victims, and the American youth culture, I suppose, was the beneficiary of the resulting music. Brian's career was ostensibly over in 1967, when his LSD-fueled far-out Smile project was shelved by Capitol for coming in way late, lacking in singles the band could play on tour and seriously over budget.
I know about Brian's regrets because he told me so at his Beverly Hills home in 2011. He regretted his use of LSD and knew it had crushed him and contributed to his struggles with depression. He subsequently suffered from a range of mental issues and was eventually diagnosed with paranoia and schizoaffective disorder.
But before the ferociously competitive Beach Boys frontman, composer, arranger and workaholic decided to take LSD to stir up ideas that would top the wild imaginations of equally competitive British bands like the Beatles, he and his band were alone at the top of the Billboard pop chart. Between President Kennedy's inauguration and his assassination, the Beach Boys re-imagined Southern California and invented teenage dreams.
Before the Beach Boys, teens were worthless, and Southern California was a sprawling suburb peppered with strip malls and supermarkets. Parents didn't care what teens thought or felt. Kids were meant to be seen, not heard, and tasked with chores. After the Beach Boys caught on in 1962, the Pacific Coast took on new national meaning—as did fast cars, surfing, the beach, dating, bikinis, hamburger shacks and summer vacations.
Fortified by beach movies, the Beach Boys awakened the imaginations of pre-teen and teenage boys and girls and legitimized their desires. For us, Los Angeles was Shangri-la, a neverland of teen power, outdoor fun and satisfied needs. Overnight, the youth culture had its own world of fashion statements, TV shows, turntables, records, cereals and fantasies.
Whether you were landlocked in middle America or lived in the mountains, bodies of water and sand took on new meaning with the Beach Boys. Their songs were infectious and painted a fantasy image of L.A. where all kids were cool, buff, promiscuous and daring. Most of all, when you listened to their songs and albums, you felt you were part of the movement, not on the outside looking in. Brian Wilson was the architect of the endless summer.
I interviewed Brian four times—once at his home when the full Smile compilation came out in 2011, twice by phone for different projects, and lastly in the summer of 2016, hours before a Pet Sounds concert at California's Mid-State Fair to talk about the writing and recording of Good Vibrations for my Anatomy of a Song column. I also interviewed Mike Love and Al Jardine for House Call.
The first time we met, in 2011, Brian was nervous. The phone interviews didn't register much. But by the Mid-State Fair, he was comfortable with me. Asking me to sit, we talked about everything from swimming pools to easy listening music. The concert was a classic summer scene—a massive outdoor crowd, with oversize beach balls being bopped around until dusk ended and the liquid colors of the rides' neon lights behind us reminding you it was a night to remember.
You couldn't help but love Brian. He was eternally a teen, even as the years piled on. What's more, Brian and the band had transformed the culture. I still wish I had known the pre-LSD Brian, the pure innocent with a high voice, his narrow eyes on the orange horizon and a vision.
Rather than offer up audio clips, let's just end today's post with one. Miss ya, Brian...
Here's A Young Man Is Gone...
