Recommendations of the editorial team
After a week of wind and rain, summer is finally summer when the news is rounding that Brian Wilson has died. This is the moment to tear down the doors and windows and hear his songs. “God Only Knows”, the most heavenly of all pop songs by Pet Sounds, the most heavenly of all pop-LPs. Or “’til i die”, with the line that comes to mind when you overwhelm the world. Which occurs frequently enough. Today I paint the words with my finger in the sky: “I’m a corcork on the ocean.”
I just wrote about Brian Wilson, in a story on the 20th birthday of Demon Days, the second album of the Gorillaz. There is a song on the record on which Damon Albarn pays homage to the Beach Boys vocal art. And especially Brian Wilson, the Maestro of Pop arrangement. At the time, his choir and he tried to copy Beach Boys’ vocal harmonies, Albarn says in an interview. Most found what was sung there, but he liked it. Because the vibe was wrong. Then he noticed the mistake: everyone sang their voices with a laughing heart. But Brian Wilson’s heart didn’t laugh while singing, says Albarn. So he sang his trail again. With a heavy heart. And now it sounded perfect.
Incidentally, the piece on Demon Days is called “Don’t get lost in Heaven”, in the text it says: “Don’t get Lost in Heaven/ They Got Locks on the Gate.” Don’t worry: Brian has the key. If not he, who then?
The AI never gets that. This longing. This brokenness
It has been written in an infinite amount and has been said about this person, this musician. There are books and films. Of course also a biopic. John Cusack plays the older Brian Wilson, which means that Andreas Fröhlich’s German voice was taken over. Bob Andrews of the three question marks speaks Brian Wilson. Crazy, but fitting. Because such trials and confusion have always been part of Brian Wilson’s life. This infinitely sad man who created music that made infinitely happy. How did he get that? Remains his secret. There were always attempts to elicit the magical formula. But Brian Wilson couldn’t or didn’t want to talk about it. Which of course was the right decision.
For a few months now, it has been very intensively debated about artificial intelligence, about its influence on pop music, art, creativity. You have to worry, do that. But if, on June 11th, the day of death of Brian Wilson, nine days before his 83rd birthday, from the open windows and doors, the tones of Brian Wilson flow outside, then you can be sure: the AI never gets that. This longing. This brokenness. This gets stuck. These melodies. Everything digitally cannot be represented. Not with the effect of a song like “In My Room” from 1963, in which Brian Wilson first made it clear that there is an inner world that can give him the security that the outside world refuses to do.
The drama of his life is that Brian Wilson presumably shot himself. The fact that he could continue to write incredible songs from this state is his gift to us.
A good ten years ago, his solid solo album no pier pressure was short of the publication, I had the opportunity to interview Brian Wilson in a hotel in Berlin. It was Berlinale, in the elevator to the suite I met the actor Bob Odenkirk, who was just introducing his series “Better Call Saul”, a few years earlier because of his evil Brian Wilson parody when Willips Brighton had come to comedy-Ruhm. Of course he is a big fan, the sketch was a poisoned homage. However, I didn’t tell him that Brian resided a floor above him. Shortly before the interview start, Wilson’s personal manager said that you should be prepared for Brian give short answers. “Very short.”
In the suite there was a man in Floridasenioren clothing who seemed tired but seemed to rest. He said he was writing the best songs after the diner because a good food takes his nervousness. Because it is so: every encounter with a melody makes it as nervous as a date at the bar. “After all, you never know how it ends.” What becomes clear in conversation: Talking about music works well. Which song he is jealous on? “Be my baby” by the Ronettes, produced by Phil Spector. “Pure happiness and euphoria. I couldn’t absorb such a song.” His favorite song of the Beatles, the eternal competitor for the top place in Olympus of Pop songwriters? “‘She’s Leaving Home’, McCartney’s story of a girl who leaves her father and mother to start a new life.” His role model as a teenager? “Chuck Berry. I learned from him how to write a rock’n’roll song.”
Maybe he will stand up for us in heaven
One more question, Mr. Wilson: What happens to a song you have recorded? “I give it away. Each of my songs is a gift to the listeners.”
It is June 11, 2025, the death of Brian Wilson makes the round, and his songs sound from countless open windows and doors. It’s no coincidence that summer is coming back today. Of course, it also runs “Surf’s Up”, one of these incredible songs. Carl Wilson sings the first two stanzas, in the second part Brian takes over. “Surf’s up, mm-mm, mm-mm, mm-mm.” Finally: “I Heard the Word, Wonderful Thing.”
Brian Wilson with his “Teenage Symphonies to God” was our liaison. Now he’s there himself. Let’s not ask for too much of him, but maybe he will stand up for us in heaven. Wouldn’t be that bad …