On October 30th, 1999, I went to Neil Young’s Bridge School Benefit concert. It was a yearly happening at Shoreline Amphitheater up in Mountain View, California. This particular year (pretty much the entire reason I went) was to see Brian Wilson play. Prior to this moment, I’d never seen any iteration of The Beach Boys. On this night in ‘99, Brian played “God Only Knows,” “Good Vibrations,” and closed with “Love and Mercy.” It was really special.
But the best part of the day was at the San Jose airport. Since it was pre-9/11, plane boarding was pretty loose. As I boarded near the end, Brian Wilson was seated in the second row. On the left, on the aisle. In a split second, my head exploded. I steadied myself and gathered my brain enough to tell Mr. Wilson how much I loved his set. He took my hand, looked me in the eye, and asked me what I loved the most. As my face turned red, I told him about the moments that moved me. He smiled, and I thanked him.
It was one tiny moment in his life that he never thought of again, but that one tiny moment has been with me ever since. In that instant, his humility, his interest, and his smile were magic.
And Brian Wilson was no stranger to KCRW. In 1988, he spoke to KCRW’s Diedre O’Donaghue for her legendary show SNAP. It’s an interview that continues to resonate as deeply as it did at the time, happening right around the release of Brian’s self-titled debut solo album. In 1998, he spoke with then MBE host Nic Harcourt. And just yesterday, Press Play’s Madeleine Brand talked to Brian’s biographer (and dear friend) David Leaf. When they initially scheduled the interview for yesterday, it was to discuss his new book, SMiLE: The Rise, Fall, and Resurrection of Brian Wilson. Coincidentally, it was Leaf who broke the news to Press Play on Wednesday morning, informing many of us at the K that Brian Wilson had passed at 82. Needless to say, the interview took a turn from its original course and was brilliant. Quintessential driveway moment fodder.
It’s been a week. Our loss of the collective genius of Sly Stone and Brian Wilson in such quick succession hits hard. But what hits home, and what we have forever, are the staggering gifts they’ve left us — their compositions.