Summer's End

Remembering Brian Wilson

Jun 12, 2025

Apologies for hitting up your inbox for the second time in as many days, but, as they say, these are unprecedented times. Times I apparently wasn’t made for. Neither was Brian Wilson…

Growing up, Beach Music to me meant the Drifters, the Tams, the Chairmen of the Board, and the mostly white bands they influenced: the Embers, the Fantastic Shakers, and the Band of Oz, among others. It was the sound of the Carolinas, both North and South, where shagging means dancing and the ocean is of the Atlantic variety. So, while I was keenly aware of the Beach Boys, the lifestyle they sang about seemed a world away.

Of course, we had cars and girls in North Carolina—plenty of both, of course. As General Johnson sang (probably in response to Brian Wilson’s wish that they all could be in California), Carolina girls were the best in the world. Still, to us, Beach Music was a temporary escape. We knew it was merely something to drink beer to on an asphalt parking lot downtown behind the credit union on a Thursday evening after work, or, at best, during a weekend respite, only to head back to work or school come Monday. Maybe we could spend a whole week down at Myrtle, or Topsail, or Wrightsville at some point in the summer if we could take the time off.

The Beach Boys, on the other hand, made beach culture their entire identity, at least at first. To us East Coast kids, it seemed all they did was cruise around in little deuce coupes or T-Birds or Chevys with 409s, checking out the girls and surfing all day and all of the night; serenading the surfer girls until one of them broke your heart and you’d have to ask Rhonda to help you get over her (poor Rhonda). The Beach Boys were just about fun, fun, fun. Then I got older, and so did Brian Wilson.

The first time I heard a Beach Boys song that went a little further than surfing and cruising was “Good Vibrations.” Good Lord, what a symphony of riches. It was progressive, it was adventurous, it was multi-layered, and each layer held a stronger hook than the last—an entire album’s worth of incredible ideas in just over three and a half minutes.

Calling Brian Wilson a genius is akin to calling the Pope Catholic, or Miles Davis jazz, or Hank Williams country, or Chuck Berry rock’n’roll, or Morgan Wallen overrated. It’s just obvious, and while it goes without saying, it still somehow should be said.

While he searched for new ways to convey timeless emotions, he did so with the innocence and wide-eyed wonder of someone who loved and appreciated the gifts he was given, even if arriving at that appreciation meant dealing with a plethora of deep, dark insecurities and trauma brought on by a lifetime of trying to live up to a demanding parent. When his music turned inward, it somehow became more universal. I may not have identified with “Surfin’ Safari” but I damn sure felt “In My Room” and “God Only Knows.”

For many of us who grew up in the ‘70s and ‘80s, Endless Summer was our first Beach Boys album. It capitalized on the ‘50s and ‘60s nostalgia boom that was taking over the culture when it was first released in 1974, and to this day, it’s more representative to me of the Beach Boys than even Pet Sounds.

While Endless Summer gave us all the hits, those of us who spent many days glued to album rock radio remember “Sail On, Sailor,” the lead-off track from their 1973 album, Holland, when Blondie Chaplin and Ricky Fataar had joined their ranks.1 It’s still a thrill to hear these harmonies after all these years.

Many wonderful eulogies are reflecting on Brian Wilson’s genius, his gifts, his complexities, and his legacy. Below are a few I really admire. I urge you to take some time with each of them, then make sure to spin some Beach Boys tonight. You may not be able to shag to it (in the Carolina way, that is), but you can close your eyes and imagine yourself surfing through an endless summer.

Brian Wilson made music that made most of the world…well…SMiLE. It’s a legacy any of us would be proud to leave behind.