Brian Wilson - Just Keep Breathing

Brian Wilson is a survivor. It can be heard in his voice; in a life which has overcome more than its share of turbulance, his is a stubborn yet graceful vitality that has found its purpose and expression through a persistent dedication to music. “Love means… to breath is to love I would say,” he affirms. “I’ve got a lot of love in my heart; all you gotta do is breath to love.”

At 68, the pioneer of Californian surf pop, iconic frontman of The Beach Boys and composer of one of the most influential pop albums of the sixties, Pet Sounds, isn’t resting on any laurels. Speaking down the wire from Los Angeles ahead of an extended tour of the Australian capital cities, Wilson is crisp, matter of fact and to the point. That he’s still performing at all is in no small way miraculous – but a mechanical quality to some of his responses and a tendency to repeat himself are the only audible scars of the psychological illness that has ravaged his career.

As principal songwriter of The Beach Boys, Wilson propelled the group to international fame in the early sixties with singles like ‘I Get Around’, ‘Surfin’ USA’ and ‘California Girls’. Pet Sounds, generally regarded as Wilson’s masterpiece, was released in 1966 to muted acclaim, its import only becoming clear in subsequent decades. But his lush vocals, innovative production and densely experimental arrangements did have an immediate impact on at least one other group… “Pet Sounds inspired the Beatles,” he explains with enthusiasm, “which I think – the most famous group in the whole world, influenced by us? That’s a trip for me! John, Paul called me when they heard [it] and they both said they loved it … they flipped for it.”

Tragically, from this watermark, Wilson imploded; band and label turmoil, the birth of his first daughter, the release of Sgt. Pepper (Wilson felt he was in deep and personal competition with the Beatles), and LSD overuse all combined to send him into a creative and psychological no man’s land. His follow-up to Pet Sounds, Smile, emerged stillborn as Smiley Smile in 1967, Wilson only returning to complete the project as originally envisioned in the early noughties.

Releasing new material only intermittently through the 70s and barely at all through the subsequent two decades, Wilson’s creative stagnation was accompanied by an ongoing battle with inner demons. He was diagnosed with schizo associative disorder in the late 1980s, the development of which he directly attributes to his drug intake. Considering the enormous personal cost his youthful experimentation has exacted from him, it’s perhaps not so surprising that his views on psychedelic substances are these days less forbearing than in the past.

 “Do I have any regrets? Oh, of course I do!” he exclaims. “I wouldn’t have taken DRUGS if I’d had a marble in my head – if I’d had a brain in my head – and thought to say, ‘Well, what does this do to you when you take this drug?’ Well, I wouldn’t have taken the drug, right? When I found out how much damage it did to my brain?” – he chuckles, drily. “Very bad. That’s what I would have not done, taken drugs – and I would advise young people who get this interview not to take drugs.”

The last decade has been considerably kinder to Wilson; his wife and four adopted children, as well as many productive collaborations, have provided him with much-needed stability. “I keep myself motivated by exercising, and I’ll play the piano and keep in touch with music, y’know? I walk about two and a half miles a day. Which is pretty damn good.”

Apart from concluding his thirty-plus year labour of love with the release of Smile in 2004, he has released two collections of original material, as well as this year paying homage to one of his own idols on Brian Wilson Reimagines Gershwin. The result of an alliance between the Gershwin estate and Disney (Wilson is to record an album of Disney covers as part of the deal), the collection features a dozen covers of Gershwin classics as well as two Wilson originals, constructed from fragments left uncompleted at Gershwin’s death. “It was a joy because I love Gershwin, and I love his music,” he says. “They sent us over 104 unfinished Gershwin songs, with George himself playing piano. Can you believe that? That I’d get to work with George that way? This Gershwin album was a rough album for me to make, because I didn’t want to let my band members down or anyone down with the vocals, y’know?”

Driven by a prodigious work ethic, Wilson continues to perform as much for its rehabilitative effects (“there is a therapeutic element to being on stage, it is good for you”), as for a belief that someone really needs to bring back the good vibes. “The music nowadays is not as positive and as warm, y’know? The music of this time, 2010, is very, very, very, VERY unbecoming to how I think music should be … I think people should write better melodies and sing a little sweeter, and knock off that stupid rap crap, y’know? Rap is really ridiculous.”
What matters most, though, is to just keep on breathing. “What I most want to do is I want to get my health to the point where I’m not like, ‘Oh I can’t do this, or I can’t do this tour, I can’t write songs’ you know, stuff like that,” he says. “That’s where I want to be.”


First published in The Brag, Iss. 385, September 25th 2010