Brian Wilson's Happily Ever After (or a Close Approximation Thereof)

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Brian Wilson's Happily Ever After (or a Close Approximation Thereof)

The legendary Beach Boys auteur's new memoir tells the story of a troubled, gifted man battling his own mind. We sat down with him to talk past, present, and 'Pet Sounds.'

I Am Brian Wilson tells the harrowing, heartbreaking story of the life of Brian—Beach Boys auteur and resident genius—which goes like this: Angel-headed boy from Hawthorne, California, at the dawn of the 1960s, smitten by the harmonic convergence of The Four Freshmen and the shimmering Spectorian grandeur of "Be My Baby," forms band with his two brothers and asshole cousin, calls it The Beach Boys and writes uber-catchy ditties of Zen-like simplicity about surfing, hot rods, and girls (despite being slapped deaf in his right ear by his sadistic tyrant of a father); boy becomes international pop star, boy has nervous breakdown and retires from touring and retreats to the studio where he gets into a pissing match with The Beatles and the race is on to get to the next level first; boy takes LSD, boy blows mind, boy sees God, boy starts hearing strange and beautiful music in his head, boy plays the studio like an instrument, sings choirs of angels, creates music of overarching majesty, astonishing beauty and profound sadness, boy makes greatest pop album of all time (Pet Sounds) and the greatest song of the 20th Century ("Good Vibrations").

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Meanwhile, boy starts hearing terrifying voices in his head, beset by demons from within and without (his sadistic tyrant of a father, his asshole cousin) boy loses mind and, eventually, the confidence of his band mates who pull the plug on his game-changing "teenage symphony to God" originally called Dumb Angel, but later re-titled Smile, boy retreats into a years-long bedroom hermitage of Herculean drug consumption, morbid obesity and sweet insanity; columnated ruins domino, family hires Mephistophelian psychiatrist/psychic vampire Dr. Eugene Landy, who switches out boy's steady diet of cocaine, Scotch, sloth, and self-pity for a zombie-fying regimen of prescription narcotics, fitness Nazism, and 24-7 mind control; boy meets girl (Melinda Ledbetter, his soon-to-be second wife) at a Cadillac dealership and falls in love, girl rescues boy from the clutches of the evil doctor, boy lives happily ever after, or a reasonably close approximation thereof. In short, It is the story of Icarus on the beach, of the boy who got too high, flew too near the sun on wings of wax, and the man who fell to Earth.

Brian Wilson is not a big talker. Music, glorious music, is his gift, not gab. He partnered with a lyricist for his greatest works—Tony Asher on Pet Sounds, Van Dyke Parks on Smile and his asshole cousin Mike Love on "Good Vibrations." He's not one of those artists who like to use the celebrity interview format to deliver expansive ruminations about The World According to Brian Wilson. In fact, having interviewed him several times over the years, it is patently obvious that he sees talking to the press as a necessary evil of the business that is show. But I must say, when I spoke with him earlier this week, he sounded more engaged and in-the-moment and, most importantly, cheerful, than in any of the interviews I've done with him over the years. In fact, given the monosyllabic responses my queries have usually elicited in the past, he was positively chatty. (And if Brian Wilson is happy, after a lifetime of pain and sadness, that's good enough for me.) Still, don't dig into this Q&A expecting My Dinner With Andre. Even a good Brian Wilson interview is what they used to call in the journo biz a 'talking dog story': it's not so much what the dog said, it's that he talked at all.

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Noisey: I really enjoyed your book. You wrote it with Ben Greenman from The New Yorker. I'm wondering if you could tell me a little bit about the process of putting the book together?
Brian Wilson: Well we started from my birth, all the way to my current age.

You and Ben would have conversations and he would take notes or record it and then turn it into the written version that appears in the book?
Yeah, he would call me over the phone and we'd spend a half hour each day until we were all written.

And how long did that take?
Well, I don't know, about a half a year.

Your relationship with your father was very complicated. I'm wondering if you could tell me, what are some of the good things he instilled in you and what are some of the bad things he saddled you with?
Well he showed me how to have a lot of gumption, you know what I mean, he showed me how to be a little more assertive and positive.

What are some things you think you inherited from your father that maybe you wish you hadn't?
Well, he used to spank me a lot.

There was a story mentioned briefly in the book about meeting a young Michael Jackson in the early 70s at a party, what did you guys talk about? Do you remember?
No they just introduced me to him. "Hey Brian, this is Michael Jackson." He said hello and then he walked away.

Have you ever listened to Michael Jackson's music? If so, what did you make of it?
Well most of his stuff that I've heard I've liked. I can't remember the name of his ballad, something about [hums a unrecognizable melody], what one was that?

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Uh, maybe "Billie Jean"?
Yeah, "Billie Jean"!

There's a passage in the book where you're talking about working with Eric Clapton and Paul McCartney back in 2004 for the Over My Head album, and you weren't happy with the performances that you were getting on tape, and you kind of had to lean on them to get them to try a bit harder. I'm curious, what do you have to say to Eric Clapton to get him to play guitar better?
You don't. There was nothing I could tell him. He just played it again on his own. I think he knew he could do better.

You mention that you had to tell McCartney that he was singing flat and I'm wondering if anyone's ever said that to him before. That's like telling Jesus he's not being nice enough. What did he say when you said that?
He goes "Oh Brian, I'm sorry, I'll sing on key."

Your brother Dennis famously got mixed up with Charles Manson after he picked up a couple of the Manson girls while they were hitchhiking. I'm curious, did you ever meet Charles Manson?
No, I never met him. My brother told me about him, but I never met him.

When you heard about the Manson murders, did you immediately think about your brother? Were you worried or afraid?
Well I was scared that maybe my brother was involved in it. I don't know if he was, I don't know.

You always seem to be fighting with or getting sued by Mike Love and he's infamous for discouraging you when you were making Pet Sounds and Smile—music that many consider your most visionary and innovative—and yet I've never heard you say a bad word about him. How do you manage to still be so nice to him all the time?
Well I love his voice, I love the way he sings, you know?

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A couple hypothetical questions. The first is, let's say you wake up in the middle of the night and your house is on fire, and you have to run out, and you only have time to grab one album. What album do you grab and why?
I would take [the 1965 Beach Boys album] Summer Days (and Summer Nights!!) album with me.

And why do you pick that one?
Because I like the rock and roll.

The second hypothetical question is: you've written some of the greatest songs of the twentieth century. I'm wondering, what song written by another song writer do you wish that you had written?
I wish I had written "She's Leaving Home" by Paul McCartney.

Pet Sounds is arguably the greatest pop album of all time. But artists are usually their own harshest critic and when they listen back to their music all they can hear are the mistakes or things they wish they had done differently. So I'm curious, if there was anything that you could do differently on that album what would it be?
Nothing. I wouldn't change one note of that album.

I think that's the right answer. The working title for Smile was called Dumb Angel—which is a very intriguing title. I'm wondering, where did that come from? Why did you want to call the album that?
You know what, I can't remember. I think I was stoned on drugs and I thought of that title. I don't even know.

You come up with a really good analogy in the book for why finishing Smile the first time around was impossible. You said it was like "putting a jig-saw puzzle together on the wall instead of on the table and it just keeps falling off." But in 2004, 37 years after you abandoned it, you able to finish the record. What had changed?
Well Van Dyke Parks and I finished up the third movement. We had two movements, and we wrote the third movement.

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That simple, huh? If only you'd thought of that in 1967. In the book you say that you regret taking LSD, that it put voices in your head. Do you think that the acid actually put the voices in your head or that they were always buried somewhere way down in your mind and that the acid unlocked them?
Well, I can't answer that. It was buried in me somewhere. Yeah, it was buried in my mind.

When you were having these auditory hallucinations, was there more than one voice?
No, just the one voice.

What kind of things would the voice say to you?
They would say "we're going to kill you, we're going to kill you," like that kind of stuff.

Would you talk back to the voices?
Yeah, I tried to but they overwhelmed me.

That must be terrifying. How were you able to finally get this under control, finally? You seem to be pretty happy and healthy and productive these days. Do you still hear the voices?
I still hear them, but not as much.

How do you do deal with it when you do hear them? Do you have some sort of coping mechanism?
No, a lot of time has gone by and they've gotten less mean to me. They're nicer now.

​All photographs courtesy of press.

​J​onathan Valania is the Editor-in-Chief of Phawker.com.