Latest news with #Don'tWorryBaby
Otago Daily Times
18-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Otago Daily Times
Obituary: How Beach Boys visionary Brian Wilson changed music
Brian Wilson, leader, songwriter and producer of The Beach Boys, has left behind a legacy of beautiful, joyous, bittersweet and enduring music, crafted over a career spanning six decades. While news of his death on June 11 aged 82 was not unexpected – Wilson was diagnosed with dementia last year and entered a conservatorship after the loss of his wife, Melinda – his death marks the end of a long and extraordinary chapter in musical history. Formed in the early 1960s in Hawthorne California, The Beach Boys were built on a foundation of family and community: brothers Brian, Dennis and Carl Wilson, their cousin Mike Love, and school friend Al Jardine. Growing up, the Wilson family's Californian household was a turbulent place; their father, Murry Wilson, was strict and at times violent. Music was the one way in which the family could connect. During these early years Brian discovered the sounds that would shape his musical identity: Gershwin, doo wop groups, early rock'n'roll, and, a particular favourite, the vocal group the Four Freshmen, whose tight-harmony singing style Wilson studied meticulously. It was an unexpected combination of influences for a pop band. Even from The Beach Boys' earliest recordings – the surf, the cars, the girls – the stirrings of the complexity and musical adventurousness Wilson is known for is audible. Listen to the unexpected structure of The Lonely Sea (1962), the complex chords of The Warmth of the Sun (1963), or the subtle modulation in Don't Worry Baby (1964). These early innovations hinted at a growing creativity that would continue to evolve over the rest of the 1960s, and beyond. In later years, Brian Wilson often appeared publicly as a fragile figure, but what stands out most in his story is resilience. His ability to produce such an expansive and diverse catalogue of work while navigating difficult family relationships, intense record label pressures, misdiagnosed and mistreated mental health conditions, addiction and much more, is extraordinary. Wilson not only survived, but continued to create music. He eventually did something few Beach Boys' fans would have imagined – he returned to the stage. Wilson's unexpected return to the stage during the Pet Sounds and SMiLE tours in the early 2000s began a revival interest in The Beach Boys, and a critical reconsideration of their musical legacy. This continues with a consistent release of books, documentaries, movies and podcasts about Wilson and the legacy of The Beach Boys' music. I grew up near Surfers Paradise on the Gold Coast in Queensland. Their early songs about an endless summer had a particular resonance to my hometown, even if, like Brian Wilson, I only admired the beach from afar. I chose to study The Beach Boys' music for my PhD thesis and spent the next few years charting the course of their musical development from their early days in the garage to creating Pet Sounds — widely regarded as one of the greatest records ever made — just five years later. I was fascinated by how a band could create such a groundbreaking volume of work and progress so quickly from the delightful, yet wobbly Surfin' to the complex arrangements of God Only Knows. To understand their music, I spent years listening to Beach Boys' tracking sessions, take after take, to hear how their songs were so cleverly and delicately put together. What struck me just as powerfully as the music itself was the sound of Brian Wilson's voice in those recordings. Listening to Wilson leading hours of tracking sessions was to hear an artist at the top of their game – decisive, confident, funny, collaborative and deeply driven to make music that would express the magic he heard in his mind, and connect with an audience. One of the more unexpected discoveries in my analysis of The Beach Boys' music came from their lyrics. Using a word frequency tool to examine all 117 songs in my study, I found that the most common word was 'now'. In many cases, it appears in a conversational sense – "Well, she got her Daddy's car, and she cruised through the hamburger stand now"– but on a broader level, it perfectly encapsulates what Brian Wilson's music offered so many listeners. He created an endless present: a world where the sun could always be shining, where you could feel young forever, and you could visit that world any time you needed to. In 2010, I had the remarkable experience of meeting Brian Wilson in his dressing room before his performance at the Enmore Theatre in Sydney. He was funny and kind. He sat at a small keyboard, taught me a harmony and for a moment, we sang Love and Mercy together. It was one of the most magical moments of my life. It is also one of Wilson's most enduring sentiments: 'love and mercy, that's what we need tonight'. Farewell and thank you, Brian. Surf's up. ■Jadey O'Regan is a senior lecturer in contemporary music, Sydney Conservatorium of Music, University of Sydney.
The Wire
15-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Wire
How Visionary Beach Boys Songwriter Brian Wilson Changed Music
Menu हिंदी తెలుగు اردو Home Politics Economy World Security Law Science Society Culture Editor's Pick Opinion Support independent journalism. Donate Now World How Visionary Beach Boys Songwriter Brian Wilson Changed Music – and My Life Jadey O'Regan 39 minutes ago Brian Wilson's passing on June 11 marks the end of a long and extraordinary chapter in musical history. Brian Wilson at a Beach Boys reunion in New Orleans. Photo: Takahiro Kyono/Wikimedia Commons/CC BY 2.0. Real journalism holds power accountable Since 2015, The Wire has done just that. But we can continue only with your support. Contribute now Brian Wilson, leader, songwriter and producer of the Beach Boys, has passed away at age 82. He leaves behind a legacy of beautiful, joyous, bittersweet and enduring music, crafted over a career spanning six decades. While this news isn't unexpected – Wilson was diagnosed with dementia last year and entered a conservatorship after the loss of his wife, Melinda – his passing marks the end of a long and extraordinary chapter in musical history. A life of music Formed in the early 1960s in Hawthorne, California, the Beach Boys were built on a foundation of family and community: brothers Brian, Dennis and Carl Wilson, their cousin Mike Love and school friend Al Jardine. Growing up, the Wilson household was a turbulent place; their father, Murry Wilson, was strict and at times violent. Music was the one way in which the family could connect. During these early years Brian discovered the sounds that would shape his musical identity: Gershwin, doo wop groups, early rock and roll and, a particular favourite, the vocal group the Four Freshmen, whose tight-harmony singing style Wilson studied meticulously. It was an unexpected combination of influences for a pop band. Even from the Beach Boys' earliest recordings – the surf, the cars, the girls – the stirrings of the complexity and musical adventurousness Wilson is known for is audible. Listen to the unexpected structure of ' The Lonely Sea ' (1962), the complex chords of ' The Warmth of the Sun ' (1963) or the subtle modulation in ' Don't Worry Baby ' (1964). These early innovations hinted at a growing creativity that would continue to evolve over the rest of the 1960s, and beyond. The Beach Boys perform at the Ed Sullivan show in 1964. Photo: Wikimedia Commons/Public domain. A story of resilience In later years, Brian Wilson often appeared publicly as a fragile figure. But what stands out most in his story is resilience. His ability to produce such an expansive and diverse catalogue of work while navigating difficult family relationships, intense record label pressures, misdiagnosed and mistreated mental health conditions, addiction and much more, is extraordinary. Wilson not only survived, but continued to create music. He eventually did something few Beach Boys' fans would have imagined – he returned to the stage. Wilson's unexpected return to public performance during the Pet Sounds and SMiLE tours in the early 2000s began a revival interest in the Beach Boys, and a critical reconsideration of their musical legacy. This continues with a consistent release of books, documentaries, movies and podcasts about Wilson and the legacy of the Beach Boys' music. The focus of a thesis I grew up near Surfers Paradise on the Gold Coast in Queensland. Their early songs about an endless summer had a particular resonance to my hometown, even if, like Brian Wilson, I only admired the beach from afar. I chose to study the Beach Boys' music for my PhD thesis and spent the next few years charting the course of their musical development from their early days in the garage to creating Pet Sounds just five years later. The Beach Boys at a 2012 performance. Photo: Louise Palanker/Wikimedia Commons/CC BY-SA 2.0. I was fascinated by how a band could create such a groundbreaking volume of work and progress so quickly from the delightful, yet wobbly 'Surfin' to the complex arrangements of 'God Only Knows'. To understand their music, I spent years listening to Beach Boys' tracking sessions, take after take, to hear how their songs were so cleverly and delicately put together. What struck me just as powerfully as the music itself was the sound of Brian Wilson's voice in those recordings. Listening to Wilson leading hours of tracking sessions was to hear an artist at the top of their game – decisive, confident, funny, collaborative and deeply driven to make music that would express the magic he heard in his mind, and connect with an audience. One of the more unexpected discoveries in my analysis of the Beach Boys' music came from their lyrics. Using a word frequency tool to examine all 117 songs in my study, I found that the most common word was 'now'. In many cases, it appears in a conversational sense – 'Well, she got her Daddy's car, and she cruised through the hamburger stand now ' – but on a broader level, it perfectly encapsulates what Brian Wilson's music offered so many listeners. He created an endless present: a world where the sun could always be shining, where you could feel young forever and you could visit that world any time you needed to. Jadey O'Regan with Brian Wilson, Enmore Theatre, Sydney 2010. Credit: Jadey O'Regan. In 2010, I had the remarkable experience of meeting Brian Wilson in his dressing room before his performance at the Enmore Theatre in Sydney. He was funny and kind. He sat at a small keyboard, taught me a harmony and for a moment, we sang ' Love and Mercy ' together. It was one of the most magical moments of my life. It is also one of Wilson's most enduring sentiments: 'love and mercy, that's what we need tonight'. Farewell and thank you, Brian. Surf's up. Jadey O'Regan, Senior Lecturer in Contemporary Music, Sydney Conservatorium of Music, University of Sydney This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article. The Wire is now on WhatsApp. Follow our channel for sharp analysis and opinions on the latest developments. Make a contribution to Independent Journalism Related News Palestinians With Disabilities At 'Epicentre' of Violence in Gaza War: Civil Society Group Call for Articles: It's the Small Things Over 1,200 NIH Scientists Write to Director Over Funding Cuts by Trump Administration Listen | Post-Degree Jobs Won't be Available Any More in the US, But It is Still the Best Option Joachim and Violet Alva: A Parliamentarian Couple Who Made History Raul Hilberg Documented the Destruction of Europe's Jews at a Time Few Wanted to Know About it Will the New Catholic Pontiff Preserve and Extend the Legacy of the Departed Pope? Frederick Forsyth, Master of the British Thriller, Dies Full Text | 'Planning in Mumbai has Come to Mean Only Real Estate Schemes' About Us Contact Us Support Us © Copyright. All Rights Reserved.
Spectator
12-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Spectator
How good was Brian Wilson?
I recently did an online quiz to name the 100 biggest selling pop and rock acts in the USA. The Beatles came top – the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Queen and so on, along with the homegrown stuff: Elvis, the Eagles and Chicago. Noticeable by their complete absence were the Beach Boys. In the late sixties and early seventies they were often considered superior artists to the Beatles by American critics. I don't think many would have that view now. It is not so much that their stock has fallen, simply that they now seem a rather lovely idiosyncrasy rather than at the very top of the division. Wilson was, famously, plagued by mental illness That Brian Wilson was a very good songwriter is beyond all question. He was also an imaginative stylist. Nobody else sounded like the Beach Boys, unless they were deliberately copying the Beach Boys (such as Paul McCartney's sweet attempt at Cold War rapprochement, Back in the USSR). The songs, described by Wilson as 'teenage symphonies to God', were drawn from pre-rock origins – George Gershwin rather than Little Richard. The melodies veered from the sublime (God Only Knows, Don't Worry Baby) through the pleasantly disposable (Help Me Rhonda, Surfin' USA) to the hugely irritating (Barbara Ann, Sloop John B). And then there was Good Vibrations, Wilson's stab at psychedelia. In truth, it was hard to listen to even their best albums (Pet Sounds, Smiley Smile) all the way through without feeling, at the end, a little bit icky, as if you had been immersed in corn syrup for half an hour. But there was a beauty there, in the harmonies and in the construction of some of those songs; a delicacy largely absent from the charts at that febrile time. And at a time when the USA was being taken over by British acts, they could hardly have been more all-American. Brian died yesterday and we are right to mourn his passing. He was, famously, plagued by mental illness. But it is also likely that his slightly unhinged mentality was partly responsible for some very pretty pop music. Where does he rank? Not quite in the same league as Bacharach, Webb, McCartney, Lennon perhaps. But that is hardly a disgrace.
Boston Globe
12-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Boston Globe
Brian Wilson: A visionary songwriter with an oceanic legacy
Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up There was a pained intimacy to the best of Wilson's music that dug much deeper than the vocal harmonies and surf guitars his Beach Boys merged into their immortal sound. The aching 'Surfer Girl' cut through the cars-and-waves bravado of the West Coast milieu the Wilson brothers grew up in. 'Don't Worry Baby' used Brian's trademark falsetto to express male vulnerability. 'In My Room' hinted at the inner turmoil that would lead to Wilson's departure from the group's touring operation, and a decades-long, endlessly analyzed struggle with his mental health. Advertisement When I lived in California I got to know Domenic Priore, an LA native who may still be the world's biggest Brian Wilson fanatic. He was obsessed with 'Smile,' the 'lost' Beach Boys album that was supposed to come out after their magnum opus, 'Pet Sounds' (1966), but got shelved due to Wilson's erratic behavior and reluctance to let go. When the 'Smile Sessions' boxed set finally came out in 2011, Priore's lifelong infatuation was vindicated: He was invited to write liner notes for the project. Advertisement I didn't quite share Priore's fixation on the Beach Boys' music, but I admired his commitment. His entire apartment at the time, just across the sand of Ocean Beach in San Francisco, was a virtual shrine to his favorite band and the lifestyle they epitomized – this despite the well-publicized fact that Brian never actually surfed and was terrified of the water. Wilson explained his perfectionism around the making of 'Smile' to his desire to try to compose a 'teenage symphony to God.' I think I first came across that wonderful phrase when the underrated Providence power pop band Velvet Crush named an album 'Teenage Symphonies to God' in 1994. Thousands of bands have taken cues from Wilson's orchestral aspirations and his rapturously arranged contrapuntal melodies. From mega-groups such as Fleetwood Mac and R.E.M. to more recent indie bands such as Animal Collective and Advertisement 'Being called a musical genius was a cross to bear,' Wilson told Rolling Stone in 1988, during one of the many times his extended camp helped him step back into the public eye with albums, tours, and documentaries. 'Genius is a big word. But if you have to live up to something, you might as well live up to that.' The Beach Boys' beginnings were far more humble than all that. In 1961, Wilson and his two younger brothers Dennis and Carl assembled a harmonizing vocal group with their cousin Mike Love and a high school classmate, Al Jardine, modeled after Brian's favorites, the buttoned-up Four Freshmen. When they auditioned for a local music-industry hustler, they were surprised that he wanted to hear original music. The guy suggested that they needed an angle. Dennis, who had become intrigued by the new wave of surfers on the beaches near the family's suburban home in Hawthorne, blurted out that they'd written a song about the new shoreline craze. The boys hurried home and tossed together 'Surfin,' based on a song Brian had written for his high school music class. (He'd received a C.) A mere five years later, Wilson was working on the song routinely credited as his masterpiece. With its structural complexity and its eerie electro-theremin motif, 'Good Vibrations' would emerge from the rubble of the 'Smile' sessions in the fall of 1966. When Brian played the unfinished song over the phone for Carl, who was in South Dakota on tour with the rest of the band, his kid brother expressed his uncertainty. 'I don't know, Brian,' he said, according to one account of the incident. 'It sounds weird.' Advertisement When the song became an overnight smash – in its first week of release it reportedly sold a hundred thousand copies daily, far and away the biggest success of the Beach Boys' entire career – the band, still touring, decided to debut it live in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Brian scrambled to get on a plane to Chicago and drove around Lake Michigan so he could teach the boys the arrangement. Euphoric over the record's success, he called his wife, Marilyn, and asked her to bring some friends to meet him when he arrived home. At the airport, someone took photos of the group celebration, but Brian seemed uncomfortable. Isn't this what you wanted? Marilyn asked. Yes, Brian replied, as he would later relate. 'The problem is I don't know whether I should be saying hello to everybody or whether it's time to say goodbye.' James Sullivan can be reached at .
Hamilton Spectator
12-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Hamilton Spectator
10 songs to celebrate the life and legacy of the Beach Boys' Brian Wilson
NEW YORK (AP) — The musical world lost a giant with news Wednesday that Brian Wilson, the Beach Boys' visionary and fragile leader, had died. He was 82. Attempting to distill Wilson's talent and influence in a few short songs is an impossibility; even just focusing on a few select cuts from The Beach Boys' 1966 album 'Pet Sounds,' routinely regarded as one of the greatest albums of all time, would feel shortsighted. (Lest we forget, there is no Beatles' 'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club' without it, and countless other classics past and present.) Instead, to celebrate Wilson's life and legacy, we've decided to identify just a few songs that made the man, from the fiercely familiar to a few unexpected selections. Read on and then listen to all of the tracks on our Spotify playlist. 1963: 'Surfin' USA,' The Beach Boys The song of the summer in 1963 — heck, the song of any summer, ever — 'Surfin' USA' at least partially introduced the group that would forever become synonymous with an image of eternal California bliss, where the sun always shines, the waves are always pristine, and paradise is a place on Earth. It's hard to imagine the beach existing before these wake-up riffs, the guitars that sparked a surf rock movement and then some. (Though it is important to mention that the song borrows heavily from Chuck Berry's 'Sweet Little Sixteen.') It's hard to think that surf music was once mostly just instrumental — even when Wilson and his cousin, fellow Beach Boy Mike Love, hastily wrote up their first single, 'Surfin,'' a minor hit released in 1961. 1964: 'Don't Worry Baby,' The Beach Boys Think of it as a response to The Ronettes' 'Be My Baby.' The hot-rod hit 'Don't Worry Baby' is the cheery B-side to 'I Get Around,' and has one of the most transformative key shifts in pop music history, from the man's perspective in the verse to the woman's response in the chorus. Brilliant! 1965: 'California Girls,' The Beach Boys Headphones on, stereo up. The Beach Boys' 'California Girls' sounds massive. It is no doubt the result of Wilson's love and admiration for Phil Spector's 'Wall of Sound,' which lead to the song's use of guitar, horns, percussion and organ as its overture. The song is a sunshine-y good time — and would later inspire Katy Perry's 'California Gurls,' among countless others. But most importantly, the song establishes the band — and Wilson's own — larger-than-life aspirations, where pop music could be both avant-garde and built of earworms. 1966: 'Wouldn't It Be Nice,' The Beach Boys Wilson's voice is the first one heard on the Beach Boys' unimpeachable 'Pet Sounds.' 'Wouldn't it be nice if we were older? / Then we wouldn't have to wait so long,' he sweetly sings on the album's opener. 'And wouldn't it be nice to live together / In the kind of world where we belong?' Optimism and innocence are the name of the game, and the listener is the winner. 1966: 'God Only Knows,' The Beach Boys If Wilson must be known for one thing, let it be his inimitable sense of harmony, perfected across his craft and completely unignorable on 'God Only Knows,' a masterclass in vocals, love, emotional depth, harpsichord and the intersection of all such forces. 'God Only Knows' is also one of Paul McCartney's favorite songs of all time, one known to bring him to tears. 1967: 'Good Vibrations,' The Beach Boys What kind of vibrations? Good, good, GOOD vibrations. And at a cost. As the story goes, one of the Beach Boys' best-known hits — and, arguably, one of the most immediately recognizable songs in rock 'n' roll history — was recorded over seven months, in four different studios, reportedly costing up to $75,000. And it is an absolute masterpiece of theremin, cello, harmonica and so much more. Pop music has never been so ambitious — and successful. 1967: 'Heroes and Villains,' The Beach Boys 'Heroes and Villains' might be one of the most complex songs in the Beach Boys' discography, and with good reason. It is the opener of 'Smile,' what Wilson called a 'teenage symphony to God,' a whimsical cycle of songs on nature and American folklore written with lyricist Van Dyke Parks. It was delayed, then canceled, then rerecorded and issued in September 1967 on 'Smiley Smile,' dismissed by Carl Wilson as a 'bunt instead of a grand slam.' In moments, 'Heroes and Villains' is psychedelic, in others, it embodies an otherworldly barbershop quartet. It is off-kilter and clever, as Wilson's band so often proved to be. 1967: 'Darlin',' The Beach Boys The late '60s are an undercelebrated time in Wilson's creative oeuvre — no doubt an effect of his declining mental health — but there are many rich songs to dig into. Particularly, the soulful, R&B, Motown-esque harmonies of 'Darlin'.' 2004: 'Don't Let Her Know She's an Angel,' Brian Wilson As the story goes, 'Don't Let Her Know She's an Angel' was originally record for his 1991 unreleased album 'Sweet Insanity,' but did not officially appear until it was rerecorded for his 2004 album 'Gettin' in Over My Head.' The song features a bunch of programming, synths and percussion, which might strike Beach Boys fans as odd. But trust us, it works here. 2012: 'Isn't It Time,' The Beach Boys This pick might come as a surprise for many fans. 'Isn't It Time' is a cut from 'That's Why God Made the Radio,' the album the legendary group put out to celebrate their 50th anniversary and left a lot to be desired. But within its filler, this song is undoubtedly catchy, with its ukulele and handclap percussion. ___ AP National Writer Hillel Italie contributed to this report.
