August 15, 2022 • 32 mins
Things are pretty calm around here at the moment, but sometimes they get a little shaky. Where are we? We're inside the mind of Brian Douglas Wilson, of course, the genius behind the Beach Boys' unprecedented masterpiece Pet Sounds. There are lots of things in here...songs, melodies, ideas...but there are also many dark corners for things to lurk in. For people to lurk in. As Brian continues to work on the band's follow-up to Pet Sounds, a so-called teenage symphony to God called Smile, the dark corners of his mind come alive. That's when the vibrations turned from good...to bad.
SOURCES
Catch a Wave: The Rise, Fall, and Redemption of the Beach Boys’ Brain Wilson, by Peter Ames Carlin
I Am Brian Wilson: A Memoir, by Brian Wilson with Ben Greenman
The Beach Boys second place in the sonic space race: 'Smiley Smile' (Far Out)
The flight that changed Beach Boy Brian Wilson's life forever (Far Out)
The astonishing genius of Brian Wilson (The Guardian)
The Truth About The Beach Boys Album Smiley Smile (Grunge)
Discover the story behind The Beach Boys' 'SMiLE' (Goldmine)
A SMiLE In The Echo Chamber - The Beach Boys Lost Masterpiece (The Big Takeover)
The tragic story of how Brian Wilson's career was almost destroyed by a rogue doctor (Smooth Radio)
“Good Vibrations” and the Lost Studio Footage (YouTube)
The Making Of…the Beach Boys’ ‘Good Vibrations’ (Uncut)
Beautiful Dreamer: Brian Wilson and the Story of Smile
Brian Wilson: Long Promised Road (PBS)
Bad Vibrations: Brian Wilson Sues Collaborator (Rolling Stone)
Brian Wilson Talks Mental Illness, Drugs and Beach Boys (Rolling Stone)
ELTON JOHN & BRIAN WILSON - Wouldn't It Be Nice (Live, 2001)
Inside the twisted relationship between Eugene Landy and Brian Wilson (Far Out)
How one quack doctor almost destroyed Brian Wilson’s career (NY Post)
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:04):
Double Elvis. Blood on the Tracks is a production of
I Heart Radio and Double Elvis. Brian Wilson was a
musical genius and one of the greatest songwriters of all time.
He caught melodies like they were waves. He bottled good
vibrations like no one else, and he picked up bad
vibrations too. He broke down, he tripped hard. He didn't
(00:28):
just hear music, he heard voices. He tried to lose
those voices by making a teenage symphony to God called Smile.
But somewhere along the way, Brian Wilson lost his mind instead.
This is his story. H Hello, this is Rhonda Masson.
(00:52):
I'm a recording engineer who has been working with the
legendary Beach Boy Brian Wilson since around My current project, however,
is rather unique. I've been tasked with trying to reconstruct
the infamous lost Beach Boys album Smile from its original
tapes the ideas that will compile the songs for a
box set. I thought it might be fun to record
(01:13):
my process as we go through this project, but it's
a it's gonna take a while. There's over a hundred
tapes of Brian's recorded material and not All the stuff
here is from those Smile sessions. There's also an extensive
amount of Bryant's home recordings. Some are songs, some are demos,
some are just his thoughts. There's an array of usable
(01:36):
and unusable material here. In fact, let me play you
something at random. Oh, okay, here we go. Some of
this stuff is pretty out there. Let me see if
I can find something from the Smile sessions. Okay, this
(01:59):
looks good. This has dated novemb Okay, let's get the
microphone right into the flames. Make sure we really hear
the sound of the crack. That's is it? Okay? Are
(02:20):
we rolling? Great? Great? Great? I want it all in
this session. Everything. Let's get the fire on the songs.
Let's get in terror into the music, and let's get it.
Let's get in blood on the tracks. Chapter one, Brian
(02:55):
Wilson is burning up. This is one oh five point
four b r I a n f M broadcasting live
from the Temporal Loo to an audience of one. We
(03:22):
never stopped never, never, never stopped talking. And whoa, it's
another hot one out there today. Be care of temperatures
are on the up, and there's also been reports of
high pressure pressure pressure. I know about pressure. Things are
(03:44):
pretty calm around here at the moment, but sometimes they
get a little shaky. Sometimes they get to be a
little too much. You'll understand that soon enough. I guess
where are we We're in my mind, of course, the
mind of Brian Douglas Wilson. It's a place that's been
expanded that over the years. It's now huge. I mean,
it's vast. There are a lot of things in here, songs, melodies, ideas,
(04:08):
but it's so big that there's a lot of dark corners,
corners for things to lurk in, for people to lurk in. Well,
good evening. This is Phil Specter taking over b R
I a n f M because Brian's father on the mike.
Not now. I uh, I'm not even sure where to
(04:31):
begin with all of this. You know, there isn't one
single moment where my mind became like this. It was
more of a collection of things, I guess, drugs, pressure, family,
but mainly a failed masterpiece. Have you ever had something
you knew was going to be the best thing you
ever did, the best thing you've ever made. Have you
(04:51):
ever watched that slip away right in front of your eyes?
Watched it crumble in your hands after you've labored over
it for so long. That's what happened to me when
an album we were going to call a Smile. It
was supposed to be the best thing I'd ever made
as an artist, but it got lost, or more truthfully,
I got lost. One song in particular, summed up that
(05:12):
project's demise, breaking about fire ranging through downtown everywhere. We're
rising everyone to stay in their homes. We were recording
a track for Smile called Fire. It's all about the
great Chicago fire, but it was me who was burnt out.
(05:33):
I envisioned the track as kind of a freak out
in the middle of the record. It was part of
an ambitious four section movement based on the classical elements air, fire, earth,
and water. I had written it in big Sir, up
in the mountains, in the snow, down to the beach
and out to the pool, I mean everywhere. I wanted
to experience the physical surroundings to get that feeling onto tape.
(05:59):
After writing an Big Sir, I wanted to bring that
feeling to the studio, so I had to set the scene.
Let's get the fire on the song. I went to
a local toy store and bought as many fire department
helmets as I could find. I made every musician where
one so that we could all get into character for
the song. As I sat in the control room, however,
(06:19):
I knew something was missing. We needed something else. The
scene wasn't quite set. I spun round in my chair
and saw a studio hand. We called him Brother Julius,
and I shouted at him louder than I had intended.
We need a bucket. He gave me a blank stare
a bucket. I shouted again, is there one? He muttered
(06:42):
something about taking a look and some wood. I shouted,
wood is more important than the bucket. Minutes later he
came back with both. As I came crashing into the
main room, the musicians all looked confused sitting there in
their helmets. I threw the bucket down and began piling
bits of wood into it. I was sweating profusely while
(07:04):
everyone looked at me an utter confusion. When the bucket
was full, I shouted, we're ready, let's get the microphone.
Right into the flames. In came Brother Julius with a
burning rag. I could smell the lighter fluid and feel
the heat as he walked by in the bucket. I demanded,
just full of glee. I sat and watched the wood
(07:24):
take light, then watched the smoke snake up to the
tiled ceiling. It was beautiful, it was perfect. I turned
to the musicians and said, now you can play. Let's
get the microphone right into the flames. I ran back
into the control room and shouted, okay, take one into
the talk back mike. The sound swelled through the speakers.
(07:47):
It was like a fire truck coming down the street.
Swirling drone grew louder and louder with every bar. Those
weird chords, those pounding drums, God, they were stirring my
brain like it was soup. It louder and louder. I
felt sick. I started thinking, oh God, I'm flipping out here,
but I wasn't scared. I liked it. In fact, I
(08:11):
loved it. It was addictive, like I was caught in
a trance. Let's get terror into the music. The sound
grew and grew. The weird strings sounded like they were
tearing a hole in reality, opening something in my mind.
I wanted more and more, but then it was too loud,
(08:33):
too strong. It was like my mind was overflowing. I
felt hot, It was like I was burning. Terror. I
began to hit my arms because I thought they were
engulfed in flames. I couldn't be in that room anymore.
I crashed through the studio doors and ran as fast
as I could down the corridor and out onto the street.
(08:54):
I sucked in as much air as I could hold.
It felt redemptive, like I had escaped the pressure, the
suffocating pressure. But then I smelled it. I thought I
had imagined it at first, like my mind was playing
tricks on me. But soon it became so clear. I
was smelling smoke, actual smoke. Hear the sound of the crowd.
(09:16):
I thought it must have been from the bucket the studio,
But it was stronger this time, a different kind of
smell than in the studio, more pungent. Then I looked
up and saw it. I still remember the terror of
seeing it, the guilt of seeing it. The large brick
building opposite the studio was in flames. It was burning
to the ground. I stared with my mouth open and
(09:39):
my eyes streaming from the smoke. I couldn't look away.
I couldn't stop asking myself the same question. It reverberated
inside my head. What had I done? If you're gonna
(10:21):
be hanging around for a while, I guess I should
lay down some ground rules. You gotta be groovy, Okay,
no bad vibes here. Vibes are very important. I've got
enough on my plane without another distraction plate. I mean
enough on my plate. Okay. I guess you should know
the full story. I started to spend a lot of
(10:43):
time poking around and here in my head. That is,
after I caught a flight one day. We were heading
to Houston from l A. This was Christmas nineteen. I
think the Beach Boys were on tour, and I had
a moment where all the pressure I've been feeling over
the last few months finally came to a head. You see,
we were pretty famous at this point. We had hit
(11:04):
songs like Surf in USA, Surfer Girl, be True to
Your School, and Fun Fun Fun. Another song, Surf and Safari,
went to number one in Sweden. We laughed about that.
It just felt preposterous to have a number one song
in a country you'd never even been to. It felt
like this thing we'd become was bigger than we could
(11:25):
have ever imagined. In May of nineteen sixty four, we
released I Get Around and got a number one in
the US too, our first gold record. I was happy
with the success, of course, but it made me feel dizzy.
When I started, I just wanted to make music with
my brothers and my friends. I didn't care about the
business side of things. I left that all to my dad.
(11:48):
But that year things changed, Things got scary. I also
got married around this time. I was pretty young, too young.
I loved Maryland, my first wife, but I struggled with
the institution. I kept asking myself over and over again,
how do you ever know if you're the right person
for someone? And how do you know if someone is
(12:10):
the right person for you? Sure I loved her, but
I was so uncertain about everything, everything except music. That is.
One day I caught her talking to my cousin, fellow
beach boy, Mike Love. Mike is funny, friendly and good looking.
(12:31):
We have a whole history. The two of them were
standing close. It looked like they were having fun. They
looked a little too friendly. I guess it got me thinking,
what am I doing with this woman? Does she really
love me? Did I make the wrong choice? The more
I thought about it, the more unsettled I felt. I
(12:53):
felt so out of control. I was under so much
pressure in my professional life. I couldn't bear being out
of role in my personal life too. Later I confronted
her about it. Do you like him? I asked, sure.
She said he's a great guy. I said no, I mean,
do you like him? She called me ridiculous, and I erupted,
(13:17):
I mean I lost it. I'd never lost it like
that usually, but it was the sign of what was
to come. As I sat on that plane that day
in December, waiting to take off of Houston, I couldn't
stop thinking about it over and over again. Mike was
talking to me, but I didn't hear what he was saying.
Make sure we really hear the sound. I just kept
(13:41):
thinking about him in Maryland. My mind flashed back to
the two of them talking, and then I saw this
image of the two of them kissing, and my pulse quickened.
All of a sudden, I felt like I had to
get out, get out of my marriage, get out of
this band, get out of this plane. Open the doors,
(14:01):
I yelled. I need to call my mother. I begged
him for a phone, and I begged someone to open
the doors. But I knew no one could help, because
by this point we had already started moving. I could
feel the air and the plane's cabin getting thin the crowd.
I thumped the arm rest of the seat as the
(14:22):
plane went faster and faster down the runway. God, it
kept going faster and faster and faster. My pulse was skyrocketing,
now going as quick as we were down the runway.
Then we were in the air. I thought I might
feel a bit calmer when the plane evened out, but
(14:43):
calm never came. The pressure in my head was like
being buried under a ton of sand. I couldn't take
it anymore, so I clipped my seat belt and fell
into the aisle. Someone shouted at me to sit down,
but I couldn't. I grabbed a pillow from the seat,
it over my mouth and screamed into it as loud
as I could. I was crying now, too big, tears
(15:07):
soaking through the polyester. I closed my eyes and saw
Marylyn my kissing again. Then I saw the billboard chart.
The Beatles were at the top, the beach Boys were
at the bottom. Then I saw myself as a kid,
stood in front of my dad as he took off
his belt. Then my ears rang, then nothing, blackness. When
(15:36):
I woke up, I was sitting back in my seat.
Tears on my face had mostly dried up. I don't
remember saying anything for the rest of the flight. I
just stared out the window. I carried on staring from
the car that picked us up after we landed, and
also later when I sat in my hotel room. Hours
passed and the only thing I said was I want
(15:59):
to go home, and so that's what I did. The
rest of the band played the scheduled shows right up
until Christmas, and I went back to l A. After
the tour finished. I had the whole band round to
my house, Carl, Dennis, al Mike, all of them. I
felt calmed by this stage. I was ready for what
(16:19):
I had to tell them. I can't do this anymore,
I said, looking at all their faces, one by one.
What you saw on the plane. That's how I've been
feeling inside. Not all the time, but that's the worst
it's been. My brother Carl asked if I was quitting.
I told him I was quitting touring. I didn't want
(16:41):
to get on stage anymore. I wanted to stay home
and write songs. That's okay. The guys didn't believe it
at first. It took me a while to convince them.
I kept coming up with all the positives for it.
How I could make albums quickly, they could drop into
the studio between oos and record their vocals. How I
(17:02):
could concentrate fully on making the songs as good as
they could be. It was really the best idea. Finally
they came around to it. Glenn Campbell had been doing
such a swell job as pinch hitter in my place
on tour anyway, so it all made sense. You know,
I never really liked the road anyway. It was never
(17:23):
what I wanted. I'm always nervous before a show. I
never know how an audience is going to respond. It's
the uncertainty of it. That's what I can't process. I'm
afraid of most things, to be honest, I was born
scared that all disappeared in the studio. Though I knew
if I had the time in the studio, I could
(17:45):
create something wonderful, and I did, but I just didn't
know what it would turn into into. One or five
point four b r I a n FM is experiencing
some technical difficulties. Please dan By. While we try it.
(18:07):
We'll be right back after this word, word were I
kept my word After that playing incident, I stayed at
home while the rest of the Beach Boys toward. When
Glenn Campbell's solo career looked like you could take off,
Bruce Johnston was called in to replace him. Bruce was
(18:29):
a staff producer at Columbia Records. He played in a
group called the Rip Chords. He had a similar falsetto
voice to mind, so I guess he was a good replacement.
I was thrilled. Honestly, everything was working as I hoped
it would in the beginning, anyway, with the band jetting
off to wherever. I got to work in the studio
(18:50):
on songs, and those songs turned into albums, albums like
the Beach Boys Today and Summer Days and Summer Nights,
and then those albums turned to pet Sounds, and then
pet Sounds turned into Smile, and then Smile turned into
well you'll see Beach Boys Today. LP was the first
(19:11):
to come out. That record had a song on it
called help Me Rhnda. It's a story of a man
who is in love with a woman who finds another man.
It's not based on a real person. Despite what you're thinking,
it's not. It's not It's not sorry about that. It's
(19:32):
just that song. It brings back memories, but not about
my marriage, about my father. Jeez, I don't want to
talk about it right now. Maybe later. Another song from
that record was called Don't Hurt My Little Sister. That
song was a strange one. It saw me sort of
work with Phil Spector Man. I love Phil's records. They
(19:57):
meant everything to me when I was learning how to
become a producer. They still mean a lot. You know what,
Phil had control. You can't be under pressure if you
have control. He was Mr Control. His song be My
Baby changed my life forever. I loved it so much
(20:19):
I even wrote a little homage to it called Don't
Worry Baby. Years later, when I wasn't doing so good,
I'd get someone to loop the chorus of be My
Baby on high fidelity tape. I'd run it through an
echo chamber so it sounded huge, and then I'd sit
at my home in my living room and listened to
it in the dark. I remember one day I listened
(20:40):
to it for over four hours straight. I couldn't stop,
literally couldn't. I even kept copies of the song everywhere
so I would never be without it. I kept them
inside my home, my car, my studio, even the kitchen, everywhere.
I still remember the first time him I heard the
song too. I was driving and it came on the
(21:04):
radio out of nowhere, like it had fallen from the heavens. Man.
I had to pull over to the side of the road.
It blew my mind, but it became this kind of curse.
I was always trying to make something as good as
that song, trying to but failing. Brian Wilson, I never
(21:27):
thought he was that talented. I'd be more impressed if
someone with a brain idolized me. When I heard it,
I knew I had to write better songs, produce better albums,
just be better. I became so obsessed, too obsessed, I guess,
so much so I started to hear Phil Specter in
(21:48):
here in my mind. That's how much it was embedded
in my brain. You can imagine how thrilled I was
then when he asked me to come into studio to
work on something. I submitted that song Don't Hurt my
Little Sister to Phil, and we were due to record
it with the whole band all of Phil's people, but
(22:12):
it didn't go so well. When I got to the studio,
I could feel the the pressure. Why don't you play
piano on this one? Brian? Phil said, God, I was
so nervous playing piano in front of someone like Phil Specter. Jeez,
I didn't feel worthy. I took a seat at the
(22:34):
old White Grand, and within seconds he barked, are you
going to play? Then? Sure? Sure, I said. I ran
my hands over the keys, I fumbled around and played
a bump note man. Phil looked pissed. I apologized and
started again. I ran through the song on the keys
(22:55):
and I sang to It was pretty good, at least
I thought so anyway. However, when I finished, Phil turned
to me and looked me dead in the eyes and
just said no. I didn't know what to say. Let
terror into the music. Then Phil announced he'd rewritten it.
I was taken aback and kind of sad. Was it
(23:19):
not good enough? I asked him that, but he didn't reply.
He just produced these papers from out of nowhere, papers
that had a new arrangement written on them. At the
top of the page. I also saw a new title
for it, his new incarnation of my song was to
be called things are changing for the better. Now play,
(23:40):
he cried, thrusting the paper under my nose. This time
I actually jumped, I mean physically jumped. When he shouted.
I got straight back to the piano and played as
Philed mumbled through the melody. Right, he snapped after I
had finished, let's try it with the band. Yeah. We
(24:01):
did a couple of takes, and again I thought they
were great. I kept thinking to myself, you're playing with
Phil Specter. You're playing with Phil Specter. Suddenly I got
carried away. I thought this song could become the new
be My Baby, a new smash hit for Phil written
by me. I thought this could lead to us making
(24:21):
an album. He could even work on a Beach Boys
record with me. What a gas that would be. But
as this was all going through my head and I
caught a glimpse of his face, he looked like he
just swallowed a bottle of vinegar. I'm not sure this
is working, he said quietly. When we finished, I could
(24:42):
tell he was disappointed, disgusted. Even I was stunned. I
didn't know what to say. I started to say I
was sorry, and he snapped at me, don't apologize, that's weak.
Then he made some excuse about having to be somewhere.
I felt ashamed, to tell you the truth. I wanted
(25:03):
to get out of there as quickly as possible. But
as I was leaving, it got even worse. I heard
him say to someone in the room. I thought he
was supposed to be a genius. What a drag. It
took me a while to get over that, but in
a way it was good. It made me smarten up,
so much so that when I walked into the studio
(25:24):
some months later to record a new song, I felt
determined to make something. Phil Spector could never make something new,
something incredible, and I guess I succeeded. I called it
Good Vibrations. October eight pm, Chicago. The Coved street was quiet.
(26:17):
Katherine O Leary closed the door door burn and headed northeast.
Inside the barn, her five year old red Brangus cow
stood still. After a few minutes passed, the cow decided
to lie down, and as it did so, its back
leg clipped the large oil lantern burning brightly behind her.
The flame from the lantern licked the hay in the wood,
(26:39):
and within moments the entire barn was engulfed in flames,
the red Brangus was burned alive. At first, the rest
of the Covin Street remained quiet, but that all changed
in a matter of minutes. The flames from Katherine o
leary's barn began to jump to the wood frames of
the nearby buildings. One by one, more buildings were now burning.
(27:00):
The neighborhood was in a panic, and the fire brigade
was called, but they were sent to the wrong address,
and so for now the fire was left to cause
its devastation. The flames rushed through Chicago structures, street after street,
showing no mercy, gaining pace and energy with every second.
More buildings, more structures, and then the city's lumber yard,
(27:22):
and coal storage facility. The explosion of fuel and heat
shattered the city's peaceful evening as the flames turned what
felt like the entire cosmos of bright red. It was
only now that the whole of Chicago realized its fate.
Within hours, three point three square miles of the windy
city was destroyed. One third of its inhabitants were homeless.
(27:46):
On the other side of town, Catherine O'Leary, still walking
heard the bang and quickly pivoted around. She saw nothing
but red, orange and black looming in the night sky.
The thick smoke was moving closer to her, now hanging overhead,
like at any moment it could come crash into the
ground and swallow her hole. She opened her mouth and screamed.
(28:12):
Brian Wilson woke up with a shock. For a moment,
he wasn't sure where he was. The dream it was
so real, the cow, the fire, Katherine O'Leary screaming on
a Chicago street, and Brian looked around and get his bearings.
Gold Star Studios, Los Angeles. He was in the control
(28:32):
booth on the couch he'd fallen asleep, still wearing that
plastic fire helmet, the ky and he made everyone in
the session, where he rubbed his eyes and looked over
to the studios mixing desk. He saw the tape for
the song Beach Boys had recently recorded Fire, Mrs O'Leary's cow,
and beyond the desk, Arnie Geller the band's road. He
stood in the doorway. You okay, Brian? Ernie asked another
(28:55):
dream about being on fire Na. It was a new
one this time. In this dream, Brian saw how it
all began, but Brian didn't want to talk about his dream.
He wanted to talk about what he had asked Arnie
to do, to go find out if what Brian suspected
to be true was actually true. Had there been an
increase in fires in the l A area ever since
(29:17):
they started recording their song. Arnie confirmed that it was true.
Brian pulled off his toy hat and put his head
in his hands, crying, What have I done? He muttered
to himself, I told you it's voodoo. This is voodoo.
Arney tried to reassure Brian that it was just a
(29:37):
coincidence and that there was no way what Brian had
been doing in the studio had any actual connection to
what was happening in the real world, but Brian wouldn't listen.
He knew what he had to do next. He grabbed
the fire tapes from the desk, and then a bottle
of whiskey from the table opposite, and ran from the
control room. He snatched one of the buckets, say it
(29:59):
used to burn wood it, and as he looked at
the charred oak at the bottom of it, his mind's
eye pictured the Chicago barn and the burning cow from
his dream. He closed his eyes and shook his head
violently to cast the images from his head. His pace
quickened as he moved out of the building and into
the parking lot, and there with Arnie on his heels,
and Brian threw the tapes of the Curve Song into
(30:19):
the bucket, ripped the cap off the whiskey bottle with
his teeth, and deulsed the tapes with alcohol. Gasping for air,
he pulled a packet of matches from his pocket and
struck one straight away. But before we went any further,
he stopped. He listened. He heard something firetruck siren, faint
at first, but got louder and louder, and he turned
(30:40):
to Arnie. You hear that, he yelled. Ernie looked worried.
It's a coincidence, he shouted back, A coincidence, Brian. Brian
took a deep breath. He had to finish when he
had started. He tossed the lit match into the bucket
and took a step back. His flames erupted from it.
The heat rushed past his face and smoked course up
his nose, and for a moment he stood on the
(31:02):
concrete outside gold Star Studio staring at the flames engulfing
the tapes, and then at the hollowed remains of the
building across the street that had caught fire only a
few days before, and the sight of that burned out
building sent the chill down his spine. He closed his
eyes and he couldn't look anymore. He started to talk
to himself, and at first Arnie couldn't make out what
(31:22):
he was saying, and Brian's lips moved fast as the
nearby flames painted them orange and yellow. It sounded like
something about fire or tracks, and then suddenly it was
more intelligible. Arnie could swear that Brian was repeating, you
can't erase Blood on the Tracks. Blood on the Tracks.
(31:56):
Produced by Double Elvis in partnership with I Heart Radio.
It's hosted an executive produced by me Jake Brennan, also
executive produced by Brady sath Zeth Lundy is lead editor
and producer. This episode was written by Ben Burrow, mixing
and sound designed by Colin Fleming. Additional music and score
elements by Ryan Spraaker. This season features Chris Anzaloni is
(32:19):
the voice of Brian Wilson. Sources for this episode are
available at double elvis dot com on the Blood in
the Tracks series page. Follow double Elvis on Instagram at
double Elvis and on Twitch at s Grace Sland Talks.
And you can talk to me per Usual on Instagram
and Twitter at Disgrace Land. Poe rock and roll Dad
Double Elvis. Blood on the Tracks is a production of
I Heart Radio and Double Elvis. Brian Wilson was a
musical genius and one of the greatest songwriters of all time.
He caught melodies like they were waves. He bottled good
vibrations like no one else, and he picked up bad
vibrations too. He broke down, he tripped hard. He didn't
(00:28):
just hear music, he heard voices. He tried to lose
those voices by making a teenage symphony to God called Smile.
But somewhere along the way, Brian Wilson lost his mind instead.
This is his story. H Hello, this is Rhonda Masson.
(00:52):
I'm a recording engineer who has been working with the
legendary Beach Boy Brian Wilson since around My current project, however,
is rather unique. I've been tasked with trying to reconstruct
the infamous lost Beach Boys album Smile from its original
tapes the ideas that will compile the songs for a
box set. I thought it might be fun to record
(01:13):
my process as we go through this project, but it's
a it's gonna take a while. There's over a hundred
tapes of Brian's recorded material and not All the stuff
here is from those Smile sessions. There's also an extensive
amount of Bryant's home recordings. Some are songs, some are demos,
some are just his thoughts. There's an array of usable
(01:36):
and unusable material here. In fact, let me play you
something at random. Oh, okay, here we go. Some of
this stuff is pretty out there. Let me see if
I can find something from the Smile sessions. Okay, this
(01:59):
looks good. This has dated novemb Okay, let's get the
microphone right into the flames. Make sure we really hear
the sound of the crack. That's is it? Okay? Are
(02:20):
we rolling? Great? Great? Great? I want it all in
this session. Everything. Let's get the fire on the songs.
Let's get in terror into the music, and let's get it.
Let's get in blood on the tracks. Chapter one, Brian
(02:55):
Wilson is burning up. This is one oh five point
four b r I a n f M broadcasting live
from the Temporal Loo to an audience of one. We
(03:22):
never stopped never, never, never stopped talking. And whoa, it's
another hot one out there today. Be care of temperatures
are on the up, and there's also been reports of
high pressure pressure pressure. I know about pressure. Things are
(03:44):
pretty calm around here at the moment, but sometimes they
get a little shaky. Sometimes they get to be a
little too much. You'll understand that soon enough. I guess
where are we We're in my mind, of course, the
mind of Brian Douglas Wilson. It's a place that's been
expanded that over the years. It's now huge. I mean,
it's vast. There are a lot of things in here, songs, melodies, ideas,
(04:08):
but it's so big that there's a lot of dark corners,
corners for things to lurk in, for people to lurk in. Well,
good evening. This is Phil Specter taking over b R
I a n f M because Brian's father on the mike.
Not now. I uh, I'm not even sure where to
(04:31):
begin with all of this. You know, there isn't one
single moment where my mind became like this. It was
more of a collection of things, I guess, drugs, pressure, family,
but mainly a failed masterpiece. Have you ever had something
you knew was going to be the best thing you
ever did, the best thing you've ever made. Have you
(04:51):
ever watched that slip away right in front of your eyes?
Watched it crumble in your hands after you've labored over
it for so long. That's what happened to me when
an album we were going to call a Smile. It
was supposed to be the best thing I'd ever made
as an artist, but it got lost, or more truthfully,
I got lost. One song in particular, summed up that
(05:12):
project's demise, breaking about fire ranging through downtown everywhere. We're
rising everyone to stay in their homes. We were recording
a track for Smile called Fire. It's all about the
great Chicago fire, but it was me who was burnt out.
(05:33):
I envisioned the track as kind of a freak out
in the middle of the record. It was part of
an ambitious four section movement based on the classical elements air, fire, earth,
and water. I had written it in big Sir, up
in the mountains, in the snow, down to the beach
and out to the pool, I mean everywhere. I wanted
to experience the physical surroundings to get that feeling onto tape.
(05:59):
After writing an Big Sir, I wanted to bring that
feeling to the studio, so I had to set the scene.
Let's get the fire on the song. I went to
a local toy store and bought as many fire department
helmets as I could find. I made every musician where
one so that we could all get into character for
the song. As I sat in the control room, however,
(06:19):
I knew something was missing. We needed something else. The
scene wasn't quite set. I spun round in my chair
and saw a studio hand. We called him Brother Julius,
and I shouted at him louder than I had intended.
We need a bucket. He gave me a blank stare
a bucket. I shouted again, is there one? He muttered
(06:42):
something about taking a look and some wood. I shouted,
wood is more important than the bucket. Minutes later he
came back with both. As I came crashing into the
main room, the musicians all looked confused sitting there in
their helmets. I threw the bucket down and began piling
bits of wood into it. I was sweating profusely while
(07:04):
everyone looked at me an utter confusion. When the bucket
was full, I shouted, we're ready, let's get the microphone.
Right into the flames. In came Brother Julius with a
burning rag. I could smell the lighter fluid and feel
the heat as he walked by in the bucket. I demanded,
just full of glee. I sat and watched the wood
(07:24):
take light, then watched the smoke snake up to the
tiled ceiling. It was beautiful, it was perfect. I turned
to the musicians and said, now you can play. Let's
get the microphone right into the flames. I ran back
into the control room and shouted, okay, take one into
the talk back mike. The sound swelled through the speakers.
(07:47):
It was like a fire truck coming down the street.
Swirling drone grew louder and louder with every bar. Those
weird chords, those pounding drums, God, they were stirring my
brain like it was soup. It louder and louder. I
felt sick. I started thinking, oh God, I'm flipping out here,
but I wasn't scared. I liked it. In fact, I
(08:11):
loved it. It was addictive, like I was caught in
a trance. Let's get terror into the music. The sound
grew and grew. The weird strings sounded like they were
tearing a hole in reality, opening something in my mind.
I wanted more and more, but then it was too loud,
(08:33):
too strong. It was like my mind was overflowing. I
felt hot, It was like I was burning. Terror. I
began to hit my arms because I thought they were
engulfed in flames. I couldn't be in that room anymore.
I crashed through the studio doors and ran as fast
as I could down the corridor and out onto the street.
(08:54):
I sucked in as much air as I could hold.
It felt redemptive, like I had escaped the pressure, the
suffocating pressure. But then I smelled it. I thought I
had imagined it at first, like my mind was playing
tricks on me. But soon it became so clear. I
was smelling smoke, actual smoke. Hear the sound of the crowd.
(09:16):
I thought it must have been from the bucket the studio,
But it was stronger this time, a different kind of
smell than in the studio, more pungent. Then I looked
up and saw it. I still remember the terror of
seeing it, the guilt of seeing it. The large brick
building opposite the studio was in flames. It was burning
to the ground. I stared with my mouth open and
(09:39):
my eyes streaming from the smoke. I couldn't look away.
I couldn't stop asking myself the same question. It reverberated
inside my head. What had I done? If you're gonna
(10:21):
be hanging around for a while, I guess I should
lay down some ground rules. You gotta be groovy, Okay,
no bad vibes here. Vibes are very important. I've got
enough on my plane without another distraction plate. I mean
enough on my plate. Okay. I guess you should know
the full story. I started to spend a lot of
(10:43):
time poking around and here in my head. That is,
after I caught a flight one day. We were heading
to Houston from l A. This was Christmas nineteen. I
think the Beach Boys were on tour, and I had
a moment where all the pressure I've been feeling over
the last few months finally came to a head. You see,
we were pretty famous at this point. We had hit
(11:04):
songs like Surf in USA, Surfer Girl, be True to
Your School, and Fun Fun Fun. Another song, Surf and Safari,
went to number one in Sweden. We laughed about that.
It just felt preposterous to have a number one song
in a country you'd never even been to. It felt
like this thing we'd become was bigger than we could
(11:25):
have ever imagined. In May of nineteen sixty four, we
released I Get Around and got a number one in
the US too, our first gold record. I was happy
with the success, of course, but it made me feel dizzy.
When I started, I just wanted to make music with
my brothers and my friends. I didn't care about the
business side of things. I left that all to my dad.
(11:48):
But that year things changed, Things got scary. I also
got married around this time. I was pretty young, too young.
I loved Maryland, my first wife, but I struggled with
the institution. I kept asking myself over and over again,
how do you ever know if you're the right person
for someone? And how do you know if someone is
(12:10):
the right person for you? Sure I loved her, but
I was so uncertain about everything, everything except music. That is.
One day I caught her talking to my cousin, fellow
beach boy, Mike Love. Mike is funny, friendly and good looking.
(12:31):
We have a whole history. The two of them were
standing close. It looked like they were having fun. They
looked a little too friendly. I guess it got me thinking,
what am I doing with this woman? Does she really
love me? Did I make the wrong choice? The more
I thought about it, the more unsettled I felt. I
(12:53):
felt so out of control. I was under so much
pressure in my professional life. I couldn't bear being out
of role in my personal life too. Later I confronted
her about it. Do you like him? I asked, sure.
She said he's a great guy. I said no, I mean,
do you like him? She called me ridiculous, and I erupted,
(13:17):
I mean I lost it. I'd never lost it like
that usually, but it was the sign of what was
to come. As I sat on that plane that day
in December, waiting to take off of Houston, I couldn't
stop thinking about it over and over again. Mike was
talking to me, but I didn't hear what he was saying.
Make sure we really hear the sound. I just kept
(13:41):
thinking about him in Maryland. My mind flashed back to
the two of them talking, and then I saw this
image of the two of them kissing, and my pulse quickened.
All of a sudden, I felt like I had to
get out, get out of my marriage, get out of
this band, get out of this plane. Open the doors,
(14:01):
I yelled. I need to call my mother. I begged
him for a phone, and I begged someone to open
the doors. But I knew no one could help, because
by this point we had already started moving. I could
feel the air and the plane's cabin getting thin the crowd.
I thumped the arm rest of the seat as the
(14:22):
plane went faster and faster down the runway. God, it
kept going faster and faster and faster. My pulse was skyrocketing,
now going as quick as we were down the runway.
Then we were in the air. I thought I might
feel a bit calmer when the plane evened out, but
(14:43):
calm never came. The pressure in my head was like
being buried under a ton of sand. I couldn't take
it anymore, so I clipped my seat belt and fell
into the aisle. Someone shouted at me to sit down,
but I couldn't. I grabbed a pillow from the seat,
it over my mouth and screamed into it as loud
as I could. I was crying now, too big, tears
(15:07):
soaking through the polyester. I closed my eyes and saw
Marylyn my kissing again. Then I saw the billboard chart.
The Beatles were at the top, the beach Boys were
at the bottom. Then I saw myself as a kid,
stood in front of my dad as he took off
his belt. Then my ears rang, then nothing, blackness. When
(15:36):
I woke up, I was sitting back in my seat.
Tears on my face had mostly dried up. I don't
remember saying anything for the rest of the flight. I
just stared out the window. I carried on staring from
the car that picked us up after we landed, and
also later when I sat in my hotel room. Hours
passed and the only thing I said was I want
(15:59):
to go home, and so that's what I did. The
rest of the band played the scheduled shows right up
until Christmas, and I went back to l A. After
the tour finished. I had the whole band round to
my house, Carl, Dennis, al Mike, all of them. I
felt calmed by this stage. I was ready for what
(16:19):
I had to tell them. I can't do this anymore,
I said, looking at all their faces, one by one.
What you saw on the plane. That's how I've been
feeling inside. Not all the time, but that's the worst
it's been. My brother Carl asked if I was quitting.
I told him I was quitting touring. I didn't want
(16:41):
to get on stage anymore. I wanted to stay home
and write songs. That's okay. The guys didn't believe it
at first. It took me a while to convince them.
I kept coming up with all the positives for it.
How I could make albums quickly, they could drop into
the studio between oos and record their vocals. How I
(17:02):
could concentrate fully on making the songs as good as
they could be. It was really the best idea. Finally
they came around to it. Glenn Campbell had been doing
such a swell job as pinch hitter in my place
on tour anyway, so it all made sense. You know,
I never really liked the road anyway. It was never
(17:23):
what I wanted. I'm always nervous before a show. I
never know how an audience is going to respond. It's
the uncertainty of it. That's what I can't process. I'm
afraid of most things, to be honest, I was born
scared that all disappeared in the studio. Though I knew
if I had the time in the studio, I could
(17:45):
create something wonderful, and I did, but I just didn't
know what it would turn into into. One or five
point four b r I a n FM is experiencing
some technical difficulties. Please dan By. While we try it.
(18:07):
We'll be right back after this word, word were I
kept my word After that playing incident, I stayed at
home while the rest of the Beach Boys toward. When
Glenn Campbell's solo career looked like you could take off,
Bruce Johnston was called in to replace him. Bruce was
(18:29):
a staff producer at Columbia Records. He played in a
group called the Rip Chords. He had a similar falsetto
voice to mind, so I guess he was a good replacement.
I was thrilled. Honestly, everything was working as I hoped
it would in the beginning, anyway, with the band jetting
off to wherever. I got to work in the studio
(18:50):
on songs, and those songs turned into albums, albums like
the Beach Boys Today and Summer Days and Summer Nights,
and then those albums turned to pet Sounds, and then
pet Sounds turned into Smile, and then Smile turned into
well you'll see Beach Boys Today. LP was the first
(19:11):
to come out. That record had a song on it
called help Me Rhnda. It's a story of a man
who is in love with a woman who finds another man.
It's not based on a real person. Despite what you're thinking,
it's not. It's not It's not sorry about that. It's
(19:32):
just that song. It brings back memories, but not about
my marriage, about my father. Jeez, I don't want to
talk about it right now. Maybe later. Another song from
that record was called Don't Hurt My Little Sister. That
song was a strange one. It saw me sort of
work with Phil Spector Man. I love Phil's records. They
(19:57):
meant everything to me when I was learning how to
become a producer. They still mean a lot. You know what,
Phil had control. You can't be under pressure if you
have control. He was Mr Control. His song be My
Baby changed my life forever. I loved it so much
(20:19):
I even wrote a little homage to it called Don't
Worry Baby. Years later, when I wasn't doing so good,
I'd get someone to loop the chorus of be My
Baby on high fidelity tape. I'd run it through an
echo chamber so it sounded huge, and then I'd sit
at my home in my living room and listened to
it in the dark. I remember one day I listened
(20:40):
to it for over four hours straight. I couldn't stop,
literally couldn't. I even kept copies of the song everywhere
so I would never be without it. I kept them
inside my home, my car, my studio, even the kitchen, everywhere.
I still remember the first time him I heard the
song too. I was driving and it came on the
(21:04):
radio out of nowhere, like it had fallen from the heavens. Man.
I had to pull over to the side of the road.
It blew my mind, but it became this kind of curse.
I was always trying to make something as good as
that song, trying to but failing. Brian Wilson, I never
(21:27):
thought he was that talented. I'd be more impressed if
someone with a brain idolized me. When I heard it,
I knew I had to write better songs, produce better albums,
just be better. I became so obsessed, too obsessed, I guess,
so much so I started to hear Phil Specter in
(21:48):
here in my mind. That's how much it was embedded
in my brain. You can imagine how thrilled I was
then when he asked me to come into studio to
work on something. I submitted that song Don't Hurt my
Little Sister to Phil, and we were due to record
it with the whole band all of Phil's people, but
(22:12):
it didn't go so well. When I got to the studio,
I could feel the the pressure. Why don't you play
piano on this one? Brian? Phil said, God, I was
so nervous playing piano in front of someone like Phil Specter. Jeez,
I didn't feel worthy. I took a seat at the
(22:34):
old White Grand, and within seconds he barked, are you
going to play? Then? Sure? Sure, I said. I ran
my hands over the keys, I fumbled around and played
a bump note man. Phil looked pissed. I apologized and
started again. I ran through the song on the keys
(22:55):
and I sang to It was pretty good, at least
I thought so anyway. However, when I finished, Phil turned
to me and looked me dead in the eyes and
just said no. I didn't know what to say. Let
terror into the music. Then Phil announced he'd rewritten it.
I was taken aback and kind of sad. Was it
(23:19):
not good enough? I asked him that, but he didn't reply.
He just produced these papers from out of nowhere, papers
that had a new arrangement written on them. At the
top of the page. I also saw a new title
for it, his new incarnation of my song was to
be called things are changing for the better. Now play,
(23:40):
he cried, thrusting the paper under my nose. This time
I actually jumped, I mean physically jumped. When he shouted.
I got straight back to the piano and played as
Philed mumbled through the melody. Right, he snapped after I
had finished, let's try it with the band. Yeah. We
(24:01):
did a couple of takes, and again I thought they
were great. I kept thinking to myself, you're playing with
Phil Specter. You're playing with Phil Specter. Suddenly I got
carried away. I thought this song could become the new
be My Baby, a new smash hit for Phil written
by me. I thought this could lead to us making
(24:21):
an album. He could even work on a Beach Boys
record with me. What a gas that would be. But
as this was all going through my head and I
caught a glimpse of his face, he looked like he
just swallowed a bottle of vinegar. I'm not sure this
is working, he said quietly. When we finished, I could
(24:42):
tell he was disappointed, disgusted. Even I was stunned. I
didn't know what to say. I started to say I
was sorry, and he snapped at me, don't apologize, that's weak.
Then he made some excuse about having to be somewhere.
I felt ashamed, to tell you the truth. I wanted
(25:03):
to get out of there as quickly as possible. But
as I was leaving, it got even worse. I heard
him say to someone in the room. I thought he
was supposed to be a genius. What a drag. It
took me a while to get over that, but in
a way it was good. It made me smarten up,
so much so that when I walked into the studio
(25:24):
some months later to record a new song, I felt
determined to make something. Phil Spector could never make something new,
something incredible, and I guess I succeeded. I called it
Good Vibrations. October eight pm, Chicago. The Coved street was quiet.
(26:17):
Katherine O Leary closed the door door burn and headed northeast.
Inside the barn, her five year old red Brangus cow
stood still. After a few minutes passed, the cow decided
to lie down, and as it did so, its back
leg clipped the large oil lantern burning brightly behind her.
The flame from the lantern licked the hay in the wood,
(26:39):
and within moments the entire barn was engulfed in flames,
the red Brangus was burned alive. At first, the rest
of the Covin Street remained quiet, but that all changed
in a matter of minutes. The flames from Katherine o
leary's barn began to jump to the wood frames of
the nearby buildings. One by one, more buildings were now burning.
(27:00):
The neighborhood was in a panic, and the fire brigade
was called, but they were sent to the wrong address,
and so for now the fire was left to cause
its devastation. The flames rushed through Chicago structures, street after street,
showing no mercy, gaining pace and energy with every second.
More buildings, more structures, and then the city's lumber yard,
(27:22):
and coal storage facility. The explosion of fuel and heat
shattered the city's peaceful evening as the flames turned what
felt like the entire cosmos of bright red. It was
only now that the whole of Chicago realized its fate.
Within hours, three point three square miles of the windy
city was destroyed. One third of its inhabitants were homeless.
(27:46):
On the other side of town, Catherine O'Leary, still walking
heard the bang and quickly pivoted around. She saw nothing
but red, orange and black looming in the night sky.
The thick smoke was moving closer to her, now hanging overhead,
like at any moment it could come crash into the
ground and swallow her hole. She opened her mouth and screamed.
(28:12):
Brian Wilson woke up with a shock. For a moment,
he wasn't sure where he was. The dream it was
so real, the cow, the fire, Katherine O'Leary screaming on
a Chicago street, and Brian looked around and get his bearings.
Gold Star Studios, Los Angeles. He was in the control
(28:32):
booth on the couch he'd fallen asleep, still wearing that
plastic fire helmet, the ky and he made everyone in
the session, where he rubbed his eyes and looked over
to the studios mixing desk. He saw the tape for
the song Beach Boys had recently recorded Fire, Mrs O'Leary's cow,
and beyond the desk, Arnie Geller the band's road. He
stood in the doorway. You okay, Brian? Ernie asked another
(28:55):
dream about being on fire Na. It was a new
one this time. In this dream, Brian saw how it
all began, but Brian didn't want to talk about his dream.
He wanted to talk about what he had asked Arnie
to do, to go find out if what Brian suspected
to be true was actually true. Had there been an
increase in fires in the l A area ever since
(29:17):
they started recording their song. Arnie confirmed that it was true.
Brian pulled off his toy hat and put his head
in his hands, crying, What have I done? He muttered
to himself, I told you it's voodoo. This is voodoo.
Arney tried to reassure Brian that it was just a
(29:37):
coincidence and that there was no way what Brian had
been doing in the studio had any actual connection to
what was happening in the real world, but Brian wouldn't listen.
He knew what he had to do next. He grabbed
the fire tapes from the desk, and then a bottle
of whiskey from the table opposite, and ran from the
control room. He snatched one of the buckets, say it
(29:59):
used to burn wood it, and as he looked at
the charred oak at the bottom of it, his mind's
eye pictured the Chicago barn and the burning cow from
his dream. He closed his eyes and shook his head
violently to cast the images from his head. His pace
quickened as he moved out of the building and into
the parking lot, and there with Arnie on his heels,
and Brian threw the tapes of the Curve Song into
(30:19):
the bucket, ripped the cap off the whiskey bottle with
his teeth, and deulsed the tapes with alcohol. Gasping for air,
he pulled a packet of matches from his pocket and
struck one straight away. But before we went any further,
he stopped. He listened. He heard something firetruck siren, faint
at first, but got louder and louder, and he turned
(30:40):
to Arnie. You hear that, he yelled. Ernie looked worried.
It's a coincidence, he shouted back, A coincidence, Brian. Brian
took a deep breath. He had to finish when he
had started. He tossed the lit match into the bucket
and took a step back. His flames erupted from it.
The heat rushed past his face and smoked course up
his nose, and for a moment he stood on the
(31:02):
concrete outside gold Star Studio staring at the flames engulfing
the tapes, and then at the hollowed remains of the
building across the street that had caught fire only a
few days before, and the sight of that burned out
building sent the chill down his spine. He closed his
eyes and he couldn't look anymore. He started to talk
to himself, and at first Arnie couldn't make out what
(31:22):
he was saying, and Brian's lips moved fast as the
nearby flames painted them orange and yellow. It sounded like
something about fire or tracks, and then suddenly it was
more intelligible. Arnie could swear that Brian was repeating, you
can't erase Blood on the Tracks. Blood on the Tracks.
(31:56):
Produced by Double Elvis in partnership with I Heart Radio.
It's hosted an executive produced by me Jake Brennan, also
executive produced by Brady sath Zeth Lundy is lead editor
and producer. This episode was written by Ben Burrow, mixing
and sound designed by Colin Fleming. Additional music and score
elements by Ryan Spraaker. This season features Chris Anzaloni is
(32:19):
the voice of Brian Wilson. Sources for this episode are
available at double elvis dot com on the Blood in
the Tracks series page. Follow double Elvis on Instagram at
double Elvis and on Twitch at s Grace Sland Talks.
And you can talk to me per Usual on Instagram
and Twitter at Disgrace Land. Poe rock and roll Dad
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