The Beach Boys founder Brian Wilson dies. His music defined California for a generation
Brian Wilson, an eclectic genius whose sunny Beach Boys songs helped define a revved-up era of American popular music and California surfing culture, has died at age 82, his family announced on his official webpage on Wednesday.
"We are heartbroken to announce that our beloved father Brian Wilson has passed away. We are at a loss for words right now," the post on X read. "Please respect our privacy at this time as our family (is) grieving. We realize that we are sharing our grief with the world. Love & Mercy."
Paste BN has reached out to Wilson's rep for comment.
Wilson is survived by daughters from his first marriage, Carnie and Wendy, who achieved success as part of Wilson Phillips, and five adopted children from his second.
Wilson’s epic career arc spanned most of his life and was as defined by prolonged bouts of mental illness as it was by meticulously constructed pop confections.
Despite decades away from the musical mainstream in the 1970s and ‘80s, when his psychological demons were most aggressive, Wilson’s towering impact was never in question.
The sublime harmonizing on beach- and car-themed tunes such as “California Girls” or “Little Deuce Coupe” came to define the Southern California ethos, while the inspired orchestration on the Wilson-produced album “Pet Sounds” caused a bowled-over Beatles to respond with “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.”
Wilson achieved such heights despite issues that could easily be insurmountable obstacles. As a musically precocious child, he was found to have significant hearing loss in his right ear. Its surmised cause ranged from a birth defect to physical abuse at the hands of Wilson’s authoritarian father, who in the early days managed the family band that paired siblings with cousins.
Brian Wilson's early life and formation of Beach Boys
Brian Wilson was born June 20, 1942, in Inglewood, a Los Angeles suburb that would boom in the post-war years as a hub for everything from aerospace jobs to nascent TV production.
Inspired by the vocal harmonies of groups such as the Four Freshman, Wilson in the fall of 1961 formed a band with his brothers Carl and Dennis, cousin Mike Love, and friend Al Jardine.
Initially, their name was the Pendletones, a reference to the then-popular Pendleton plaid shirt. But the small record label that released their debut single “Surfin’’,” produced by their manager father Murray and a nod to a new beach craze, renamed them the Beach Boys. Only Dennis Wilson actually surfed, but the zeitgeist-nailing moniker stuck.
Over the next four years, the Beach Boys ruled the airwaves. Wilson effortlessly crafted 3-minute harmony-rich pop triumphs aimed at teens like his producing idol, Phil Spector, had captured that same audience with his fabled Wall of Sound effects. Celebrating cars, surfing and teen romance, the hits poured from Wilson’s pen: “Surfin’ U.S.A,” “409,” “Be True to Your School,” “California Girls.”
But Wilson’s ambitions almost immediately ranged beyond simply appearing in a popular act. In 1963 alone, the 22-year-old wunderkind had sung, produced, arranged, and guided dozens of songs for groups such as Jan and Dean, the Honeys, and the Castells. But a challenge to his genius would soon arrive from overseas.
Just as Wilson and the Beach Boys were enjoying chart-topping success with “I Get Around” and its B-side, “Don’t Worry Baby,” Beatlemania swept the U.S. Wilson saw the Mop Tops as formidable challengers and rivals to his band’s otherwise undisputed stranglehold on the airwaves.
While that rivalry caused Wilson to double down in the studio, it also revealed cracks in his fragile psyche that soon would turn into debilitating chasms.
Creation of 'Pet Sounds,' considered a masterpiece of pop music
By the mid-‘60s, Wilson had begged off most Beach Boys tours to stay in the studio and avoid the public limelight, with Bruce Johnston replacing him permanently on tour. Frustration over being pigeon-holed as a surf band grew, as did increasingly emotional outbursts and rumors of increasing drug use, particularly acid.
Nevertheless, after being holed up for months at home writing music, Wilson unveiled a masterpiece in May of 1966. “Pet Sounds,” which included now-classic songs ranging from the theremin-infused “Good Vibrations” to the aching “God Only Knows,” didn’t immediately strike a chord with fans, but it knocked out the Beatles. The Fab Four used “Pet Sounds” to inspire their studio adventures to new heights and responded in May of 1967 with their own coup de grace, “Sgt. Pepper’s.”
Wilson then planned his response to the Beatles' opus, a new album called “Smile.” But that effort would only see the light of day in 2011.
Wilson's mental health struggles
Instead of a new triumph, Wilson descended into seclusion and, by all accounts, madness. In later years, he would be diagnosed as having schizoaffective disorder, a mental health condition marked by hallucinations, depression, and paranoia. Often, he heard voices. Cloistered in his Bel Air mansion, Wilson did drugs and ate obsessively.
Although Wilson stayed connected with the group he founded and would offer a range of creative input from his isolation, his condition became more extreme after the death of the family patriarch in 1973. Stories circulated of Wilson's strange behavior, including rumors of him rarely leaving his bed, impromptu appearances at Los Angeles clubs in just a bathrobe and slippers, and turning away visiting stars such as Paul and Linda McCartney.
In 1976, Wilson managed a bit of a comeback into public life after going into the care of controversial psychologist Eugene Landy. But the comeback would not last. Although able to still function in the studio on occasion, Wilson resumed his self-destructive routine of drugging, drinking, and eating, eventually overdosing in 1982. Family members then asked Landy to return, and he agreed that he would be able to take over all of Wilson’s affairs. A destructive relationship ensued.
In 1988, the album “Brian Wilson” marked the singer and producer’s return to the musical spotlight, generally receiving positive reviews. But it was largely overshadowed by the Beach Boys’ own hit “Kokomo,” their first hit since “Good Vibrations” and a song without input from their founder.
Wilson's solo outings were emblematic of the schism that had developed between him and the group he founded. The deepest rift was with cousin and lead singer Love, who in earlier days objected to Wilson veering away from the chart-topping fare of the band's youth in favor of more experimental music such as the sound-effects laden creativity found on "Pet Sounds."
Love frequently disparaged Wilson in the media, and later successfully sued his cousin for retroactive songwriting credits. Love also retained the rights to the Beach Boys name, and spent decades touring with some of the original members while Wilson was left to hit the road under his own name.
Wilson's comeback in the 1990s
But despite the ongoing tensions, the ‘90s saw Wilson gradually get his house in order. A conservatorship suit filed by Wilson’s family dissolved what remained of Landy’s stranglehold on his one-time patient’s affairs. Wilson then collaborated in 1995 with producer Don Was on a documentary about his life, “Brian Wilson: I Just Wasn’t Made for These Times,” and in 1999 embarked on his first solo tour.
Finally, under traditional medical care and medicine, Wilson could better access his gifts in the new millennium.
In 2010, he released a well-received album reimagining George Gershwin staples, the storied composer who allegedly inspired a young Wilson when he heard “Rhapsody in Blue” as a child. And in 2014, Wilson’s life and times were the subject of a well-reviewed biopic called “Love & Mercy,” starring both John Cusack and Paul Dano as an older and younger Brian Wilson.
Reinvigorated in his latter years, Wilson hit the road in 2016 to perform “Pet Sounds” in its entirety, and continued to entertain fans before and after the COVID-19 pandemic.
The inspired young musician who first rounded up a band in his teens saw no reason to stop entertaining as a grandfather, perhaps in part to make up for all those lost decades.
“Retirement? Oh, man. No retiring,” Wilson told Rolling Stone in 2016. “If I retired I wouldn’t know what to do with my time. What would I do? Sit there and go, 'Oh, I don’t want to be 74'? I’d rather get on the road.”
(This story was updated with new information, photo galleries and related links.)