Listen to the Beach Boys

Brian Wilson at the piano.

Brian Wilson has passed away. He was one of my creative heroes. Each is unique; Brian, because he couldn't help it. He was born wired up differently--which isn't enough, but he did something with it, followed his muse or his unconscious or whatever you want to say, and created beautiful things for us all to listen to. Out of a stew of 50s harmonies, cruel pressure from his father, and a passion to make something different, we got music that no one else could have made. It was brand new and somehow it always will be. Through time, his name will be spoken next to those of Bach for harmony, Mozart for melody and progression, and Schubert for emotional connection.

It's pop music. It's rock and roll. It's not classical music. All that's true. But Brian elevated the form with eloquence and even fun. And he inspired me greatly. I'll miss knowing he's around--I was fortunate enough to see him perform a few times, and I'm grateful to have been on the earth at the same time as this wonderful, gentle giant.

Casual fans don't know that he suffered with profound mental illness--voices in his head that taunted and tormented him. This didn't go away with time. (I wrote about this in my books.)

Yet the horrible biological tic that hurt him so was a part of the engine of his genius. How cruel... or maybe that's the consoltation for coming through. I'll bet he would have traded the success for relief. I would have.

Brian Wilson, artist and genius and survivor for our times. He traveled a hard road. Now take the peace you long deserved, my friend.