September 5, 2022 • 32 mins
Brian’s troubled relationship with his controlling and abusive father comes into focus. Paul McCartney stops by a California recording studio to chew some celery into a microphone. And the tragedies of the past threaten to echo endlessly into the future.
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)
'One of Charles Manson's murderers gang babysat my two children' says Beach Boys star Mike Love (Daily Mail)
The Beach Boys battle: Why does Brian Wilson hate Mike Love? (Far Out)
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. Hello everyone. Rhonda Masson back with
(00:50):
you again. Still going through all of Brian Wilson's archival tapes.
This job is turning out to be bigger than I thought.
There's hours and hours of studiotape that is just chatter,
I mean, no music at all. I've tried to catalog
these the best I can, but as you can imagine,
it's hard to work out where they came from. There's
(01:10):
one session where Brian and his father are arguing for ages.
Once again, these aren't always an easy listen, so please
do bear that in mind. Dad, can you come out
of the studio and back into the booth. What I
(01:35):
can't hear you through the glass? Would you come in here, Dad, please?
We can't carry on like this. We would like to
record under an atmosphere of calm. What the mix is fine?
Stop worrying about where to place the microphone. I can
(01:58):
hear the mix, just fine. I've got one good year left,
haven't I. I'm not gonna do this now. This is
a waste of time. You're you're not being very kind. Okay,
you can behave like a child if you want. Just
come in here. We're running out of time. Whatever you want,
(02:19):
I'll do. Just please stop. Please. There's almost an hour
of this. It gets pretty angry and pretty full on.
There's a lot of tension, a lot of arguing, and
a lot of blood on the tracks. Chapter five. Brian
(02:59):
Wilson M. It's a sun good morning. You're tuned into
one oh five point four b R I A N
F L. We're going all the way back today, all
(03:22):
the way back in time. We're revisiting some big hits
from yesteryear. It's time to rewind back in the glorious fifties. Planes.
You know, every time I see a plane it reminds
me of that house, that that moment, It reminds me
(03:42):
of the piano, the thud ringing in my ears. I
can feel it all again, the dull ache, the way
it's spread across my face, silence that followed, I'm rambling. Sorry,
I guess we should get to the thing that we've
been dancing around for a while. My old man, my dad,
(04:07):
Murray Wilson. It's funny. I try not to think about
it too much, but then it comes back. Like the
other day, I found something paper I wrote in high
school philosophy paper. As soon as I saw it, it
all came flooding back. One sentence stood out the most
when I read it. I wrote, I think the type
(04:28):
of character a person develops comes largely with the background
of family living. Boy, I was right. A lot of
good came from my family. My dad loved music, but
he wasn't in the music industry, so he pushed me
and my brothers to become one of the biggest groups
in the world. Please, that wouldn't have happened without him, seriously,
(04:53):
but he also caused the band's downfall before it even began. Hell,
he even caused my downfall before I even began. In
some ways, I was very afraid of him. In other ways,
I loved him because he knew where it was at.
He had that competitive spirit which really blew my mind.
The day I wrote that paper, I was at home
(05:14):
in our house in Hawthorne. We lived right under the
flight path of l A International. It was only a
few miles away, but it felt like it was in
a different world. I used to watch the planes from
my window, and I wish I could get on one,
you know, just get away to be anywhere, London, Hawaii, Tokyo.
I was watching a gateway to the world that I
(05:36):
could never use. As I was working on that paper,
I kept gazing up to the sky and watching the planes.
I stared at one as it scribbled a white line
on the massive blue But as soon as I heard
our front door open, my head went straight down. My
dad was home from work. Now he was always physical
(05:59):
with us, which obviously isn't right. But I have to
tell you he wasn't a complete monster. This isn't a
Hollywood film, but there's more than heroes and villains here.
There are gray areas too. My dad did a lot
of good, but there was a lot of bad in him.
We can't carry on like this. That day, he crashed
(06:20):
into my room and asked what I was doing homework?
I told him. He took one look at it, and
I could tell he was mad that part about a family. Brian,
come on, what's that mean? I can't hear you? He
spoke softly. But did it through clenched teeth. Have we
not given you enough? He asked. I could tell he
(06:42):
was getting angry. I heard a jet pass over the
house and turned to the window to see it. I
felt like if I ignored him, he might just leave,
leave and go find Carl or Dennis or I don't
know anyone but me. I'm not gonna do this now, Brian,
he shouted, are you listening to me? I knew what
(07:05):
was about to happen. This always happened. Turn around, he said.
When I didn't move, he screamed with the request at me.
I slowly turned. My eyes were fixed to the floor.
Look at me, he said. I slowly moved my gaze
up from his legs to his torso, then his neck,
(07:28):
then to his eyes. They were fixed on me. Then
he slowly moved his right hand up in the air
and gripped his thumb and forefinger around his right eyeball
and pulled it from its socket. It squelched and clicked
as it came out. The glass surface caught the sunlight.
Come here, he said coldly. Then he leaned closer and whispered,
(07:52):
look into it please. He rolled his head slightly so
I could see the empty socket. It was wet and shiny,
he laced with red scar tissue. I closed my own eyes,
but it was all I could see. This is a
waste of time. When I opened them again, I was
(08:13):
sitting on my bed. I must have fainted or forgotten.
I don't know. Dad was sitting next to me, his
glass eye back in its socket. You shouldn't be so afraid,
he said, Now you rewrite that paper after you've made
us dinner. You understand we can't carry on like this.
As he left the room, I felt a rage build
(08:35):
up inside of me. It wasn't the first time I
had gotten the old eye trick, and I was sure
it wouldn't be the last. But this time it really
got to me. I was just so sick of it all.
Maybe it was the planes goading me from the sky.
Maybe it was how proud I was of my writing
in that paper, or maybe it was just because this
(08:58):
was the millionth time he'd end bushed me like that.
Whatever it was, I just snapped. I marched past him
to the kitchen and grabbed a plate. I took it
to my bedroom, dropped my trousers and took a massive
ship on it. Yes, really, you can behave like a
child if you want. The full plate was disgusting, I
(09:20):
mean fucking disgusting. It. It was horrible to look at,
but I was strangely proud. Can you be proud when
you've just defecated on a plate? It turns out you can.
I carried into the living room, where my dad had
installed himself in his chair. I thrust my prize in
front of him. Here's your fucking dinner. I waited for him.
(09:44):
I wanted him to try to come after me. I
would have knocked him out. I could see myself doing it.
But he didn't come after me. He just put the
plate to the side. He didn't even get up. I
think you should go of the bathroom and clean yourself up,
he said again, with that cold voice. It was there
(10:06):
in the bathroom that he whipped me until I ended
up on the floor crying. It was so bad, it
hurts so much. I begged him to take his eye
out again and let that be my punishment, but he
just kept on whipping me with his belt. To be honest,
though I kind of got off easy that day, other
(10:29):
times his violence would have a much bigger effect. You know,
(11:01):
it's funny making smile. I felt safe. I felt really
safe until I didn't. But despite everything that happened, everything
that I told you about, for the longest time, I
enjoyed smile. I thought it was going to work out great.
Looking back, the music seemed to be the most solid
thing about it all. It was other band members, of
(11:23):
their family members, other voices. They were the things that
were making the projects stall, not the music that kept coming.
The mix is fine. But one day we were working
on a song called Vegetables. I liked working on that one.
It was fun. I used to sprinkle the console with
(11:44):
salt and seasoning before we started, just to set the mood.
I can hear them makes it just fine. I also
put out some real vegetables too. There was celery everywhere.
I would dip the celery into a jar of salt
and crunched down on it. We were doing a take.
Paul McCartney even came by one of the sessions and
(12:04):
he munched some salary right into the microphone. He enjoyed himself.
I think I'm not sure whatever happened to those tapes,
but that was a blast to have a beatle to
play the the celery. I was in the control room
with Chuck Britts, our engineer. We were having a break
and he turned to me and said, you know, Brian,
(12:25):
I've always wondered why you talk out at the side
of your mouth. I was a bit taken back. I
paused for a moment for answering him. Honestly, it's my
right ear, I told him, I can't hear anything out
of it. I guess over time I've started speaking like
that because of my ear. I've got one good ear left,
haven't I hang. Chuck waited a second before asking the
(12:49):
next question. I knew he was going to ask it
they always do. How did you lose your hearing? He
asked politely. I must have answered him, but I don't
remember it. I stared at the desk covered in salt,
but that's not what I saw. I saw, my dad.
I saw a lead pipe. I saw a lot of things. Now,
(13:16):
do you want the truth or something easier? Okay, here's
how I lost my hearing. In my readier, I was
just a kid playing outside in our neighborhood. There was
this kid named Seymour. I think that was either his
first or his last name, I can't remember. He had
a lid pipe in his hands. You could behave like
(13:37):
a child if you want. The sun was bright, and
all I could see was his outline against the endless
yellowy orange glow behind him. Everything from that moment seemed
to go in slow motion. Without warning, he raised the
pipe up and smashed it into the side of my head.
I never knew why. Shock was all I felt. I
(13:58):
didn't even realize it had been hit until the pain
was coursing through my bones. The sun was in my eyes.
The pain spread from my ear across my head and
then to my torso my knees weakened. I fell to
the floor. It was a few days later I realized
my hearing was changed forever. It wasn't coming back. My
(14:21):
mother eventually took me to the doctor and he said
that the hearing had gone all down to the eighth
nerve in my head, being severed. Do you know? It
was strange. Though I spoke to my dad about it.
I thought he would tell me to toughen up and
go back and teach that kid a lesson. But he
didn't dead please. He sat with me. He looked at
(14:45):
my ear and asked me how I was doing. Then
he told me the weirdest story. He said that when
he was younger, his dad, a man called Buddy, took
a swing at him with you guessed it, a lead pipe,
didn't really took my dad's ear off. They rushed him
to the emergency room and managed to save it. I
(15:05):
was shocked. I didn't know if it was a joke
or if he was taunting me. But when I looked
at him, I saw such pain, such sadness within him,
I knew it was true. I never felt closer to
him in that moment. My old man seemed to shrink,
to pull back the curtain, to give me a glimpse
into something else. Now, do you want the truth or
(15:31):
something easier? Here's how I lost the hearing in my
right ear. My dad had been drinking. He drank a lot.
He was mean when he drank. I was sitting at
the family piano just messing around with the keys, playing something.
My dad came in and sat down next to me.
He'd been cutting some wood in the yard. He smelled
(15:54):
like sweat and booze. What's that, he asked, smiling. What
just a tune I'm making up? I mumbled, It's good,
he replied. He seems so happy, content even he really
loved music. He asked me to budge over, and he
(16:16):
played a few notes of Rhapsody in Blue, the Gershwin masterpiece.
But he hit a bum note a couple of bars in.
I laughed and pressed the key next to it, completing
the sequence like this. I smiled up at him, but
he turned away from me. He didn't say anything at all.
It was like something blocked out of the sun, like
(16:37):
rain clouds appeared out of nowhere. I could feel the
shift within him. Hands up, he said. I immediately took
my fingers off the keys, and he slammed the piano shut.
He left the room in silence. I sat wondering what
had just happened. Seconds later, he reappeared with a block
(16:59):
of wood two by four, and without warning, he swung
it around and slammed it into my right ear. Do
you think you're better than me, he screamed. You will
have to practice a lot if you want to be anything,
because right now you're nothing. You've got that. My brain
felt like I was slashing around in my head. I
(17:21):
couldn't think straight. I felt dizzy, like the world was
spinning out of control. I knew some serious damage had
been done. I went to the emergency room a week
later with my mother, and they told me I'd lost
the hearing in that year. My son is a liar.
He was born deaf. Nothing made him deaf apart from
his own body. He came out like that. My dad
(17:43):
was all I could think about in that control room
with the salt covered desk. Chuck smiled at me empathetically.
I'm used to seeing that look. I get it more
and more as I've gotten older. To be honest, I
don't care for it so much. I grabbed the celery
in front of me and took a huge bite. I
smiled at Chuck, But what I didn't tell them was
(18:05):
that the ringing in my right ear had started again.
We'll be right back after this. We were were. Success
is a funny thing. Sometimes you get to the top
(18:27):
of the mountain and the view is still the same.
Sometimes the end of the rainbow just takes you back
to the start. I feel a little bit like that. Sometimes,
no matter how successful you get, your problems are still there. Money, recognition, fame, Sure,
they all play their role in happiness. I'm not gonna
sit here and blastom New Age bullshit at you. They
(18:49):
can make you happy, but what those things can't do
is cure wounds. You have to do that all for yourself.
One night at my house in Laurel Canyon were having
a huge party. It was dark and the pool lights
were on. I've always liked how a pool looks at night,
the way the light catches the water. It makes it
(19:09):
seem magical. It looks so perfect, untouched, clean, peaceful, an
atmosphere of calm. That night, I was gazing at my
pool as l a loomed in the background. It's twinkling
lights mirroring the night sky. My brother Kyle came up
to me and threw his arm around my shoulder. You've
done it again, he said, We've done it, I corrected him.
(19:33):
Someone across the pool yelled a second Beach Boys number
one single, and everyone cheered. Al came over and joined us.
Grinning just like Carl. You want to see it again,
he asked, holding up a copy of Billboard magazine. I
flicked to the page the Billboard hot one. At the top,
it read the Beach Boys Helped Me Rhonda, and next
(19:56):
to that was a large black one. Dennis smiled at
me and said it was all worth it. In the end,
my brothers were called away to someone else and I
was left on my own. Was it, i asked myself,
Was it worth it? What you see helped me? Rhonda
(20:17):
was a huge success for us, but it was also
the culmination of years of tension. My dad came to
that session. He was often present in our recording sessions
and pretty much any activity the band was engaged in.
Even after we dismissed him as our manager. He managed
in the same way he parented. He was hard and
(20:39):
often cruel. You're you're not being very kind. He wouldn't
let us talk to girls or even drink on tour.
He'd find us a hundred dollars if we broke any
of his rules, and I remember one tour of Australia
he even changed that fine to a thousand dollars. The
day we cut helped me Rhonda, though finds and rules
(20:59):
all shrank at the eyes of a p All of
our frustrations, all of our differences and our similarities came
out in that session. We were cutting the vocals, and
I knew from the very second the tape was rolling
it was going to be a long day. Dad turned
up and immediately took a place in the control booth
that we usually reserved for the producer, a place we
(21:19):
usually reserved for me come out of the studio. I
sat next to him as the boys were in the
main room. When they finished a take, he jumped up
and strolled into the main studio. That wasn't good, he
said to Al. No, really, that was a little you
need to be more doo by Doobi duh. I couldn't
(21:40):
believe he was singing to al singing to a man who,
let me remind you, was in one of the biggest
pop groups of the moment. Al kind of shrugged, Just
loosen up and be happy. My dad shouted, we can't
carry on like this. That made me laugh, shouting at
someone to be happy. We did another take, and when
(22:02):
it was finished, I asked Alic we could have one more.
Before he could reply, my dad said that one was fine, Well,
let's move on. I couldn't believe it. I was in charge,
This was my session, my band. This is a waste
of time. I shouted on the microphone from the control
booth that we were doing another take immediately. Dad came
(22:25):
back into the room with me after that, but he
didn't stop, which wasn't a surprise. But what was a
surprise is that from here on out he directed most
of his anger at everyone else apart from me, although
I suspected he was angry at them in order to
get at me. Please, With every take he found a problem.
(22:46):
Mike was flat, Dennis wasn't giving his all. Everyone was
getting piste off. I couldn't stand it anymore, so I
went into the main studio to get away from him.
I'm not going to do this now. We were slogging
our guts out in this studio and he was just
sitting in the control room barking into the microphone. After
one take, he cried, Okay, so you guys are big
(23:07):
stars now, but have you got any guts? You have
to fight for success. Mike looked over at me, his
face all screwed up. Dad didn't stop. You've got no guts,
no guts. Come on, let's go. Let's hear you, he
yelled again in that dominaring, patronizing voice. Hey, I shouted,
(23:29):
I've got one good ear left, and your fucking big
voice is ruining that. I've got one good ear left,
haven't I? He laughed, but I could tell he was shocked.
I told him he was embarrassing me. Then I corrected myself,
You're just embarrassing. I said, we would like to record
under an atmosphere of a calm. I'd had enough. I
(23:53):
stormed into the control room. I told him we didn't
need his help. He ignored me. He grabbed the microphone
and kept delivering more direction to Al. I was so angry.
I shoved him aside and grabbed the mic and told
Al to give us a second. My dad slammed his
body into me and yanked the mic back towards him.
(24:14):
You need to make records like we used to, he
bellowed at me. You could behave like a child if
you want. I leaned my body back and held it
there for a second. Do it, I thought to myself,
Just fucking do it. I took a deep breath and
slammed my entire body weight into him. He flew across
(24:35):
the console, toppling over and landing against a chair. He
looked up at me, all weak and feeble from the floor.
He said, do you think just because you've made some money,
everything is going to be a hit. We're running out
of time. I ignored him and demanded al to do
another take out of time. You know what, though, I
(24:58):
did think it was going to be a hit, because
it was the fucking number one hit. There was only
one producer credit for helping me, Rhonda, and it was
Brian Douglas Wilson. Cedar Sinai Medical Center, West Hollywood, two
(25:42):
thousand four. Dr Emma Samuel examines an X ray of
an ear. She knows something isn't right with her patient,
but the X ray looks fine. She takes a large
gulp of coffee from a styro phone cup. She checks
her watch. It's been ours. She's going to have to
talk to them, explaining that she just doesn't know what's wrong.
(26:03):
She picks up the receiver of a phone on the
wall and then just as quickly hangs it back up.
She has an idea. She walks quickly to Patient Room fourteen,
full of hope, she pushes open the door labeled Baby Wilson.
She creeps up to a small newborn lying sound asleep
in a cot. She delicately moves his head to one
side and uses her outoscope to take another look in
(26:24):
the infant's ears. Nothing disappointed again. Moments later, Dr Samuel
is back at the wall, clutching the phone, her heart
rate increasing. She dials the number from her notes and waits.
Just under a mile away, Brian Wilson is sitting by
his pool. He watches the calm water as it remains
(26:46):
undisturbed by the still West coast air. Melinda, his wife,
is in the house, anxiously twisting the cord of their
phone around her finger. The accent Summer Olympics plays on
a TV in the background, but no one is paying
attention to it. She calls out to Bryant. You know
my friend Samantha, She called her little boy Gauge. I
don't mind that. Brian's eyes are still fixed on the pool.
(27:09):
His mouth curls up. My dad's middle name was Gauge,
he replies. Melinda receives him loud and clear. Names are hard,
especially with adoption. She says, I guess we should see
him again before we decide. Although, what do you think about?
The loud ring of the Wilson home phone erupts her.
She's been waiting for that ring all day. She quickly
(27:29):
picks up the receiver. Mrs Wilson comes to voice on
the other end. This is Dr Emma Samuel. I'm just
calling to give you an update. We Linda cuts her off.
Is he okay? The doctor takes a second. This is
a tricky situation. If she goes too easy, she could
undersell a serious problem later down the line. Too hard,
(27:50):
and the whole thing will be clouded in fear. We
have detected a slight issue with the baby's hearing. Dr
Samuel says his right here, I think it's best if
you come in like we said. Belinda's mind races, and
before she knows it, she and Brian are in their
Cadillac heading to West Hollywood. As Brian drives, he starts
to feel sick. Is that really what the doctor said?
(28:13):
Did Melinda hear her right? A slight issue with the
baby's hearing. Melinda could barely get the words out to respond.
She's sure. At first. Brian doesn't speak, but his mind
flashes back to the lead pipe and the hot Hawthorne son,
his father playing Gershwin on the piano. His right ear
starts to ring, and their sweat on his forehead. I
(28:34):
don't understand, he says. Finally, what is this a joke?
A joke from God? Silence Melinda, he shouts. Melinda responds,
tears in her eyes. She knows it's going to be
hard for Brian to process, but he's gonna have to
figure it out. He's gonna have to find a way
to deal with this. Brian isn't listening. His eyes are
(28:55):
fixed on the traffic moving in front of him, and
that's when he sees it. That's when he see he's him.
The man who just passed him at the busy junction
and who is now parking is battered t one Triumph motorcycle.
It looks a lot like Bob Dylan. It's gotta be Dylan.
Brian watches him shuffle down the sidewalk, a hoodie obscuring
his head. Despite the l a heat, Brian's mind just
(29:19):
to a Newsweek article that he still has in his
office at home, an issue from Bob Dylan's words and
big red pull quote type the ones that read Brian
Wilson that a year. I mean, Jesus, he's got to
will that to the Smithsonian. And just thinking about those
words gives Brian goose bumps on his arms and butterflies
in his stomach. That year, That year, he thinks to himself.
(29:45):
A few blocks later, Brian and Melinda are rushing into
Cedar Sinai, where Dr Samuel stands waiting. She's clutching a
beige file in her hand and looks relieved. I'm so
sorry to rush you down here, she says. Turns out
you don't need to come down after all, because we've
we found the problem. Just some water in the year,
is all not a long lasting issue we can easily.
Melinda cuts the doctor off again, but this time it's
(30:08):
because she's hugging her. Dr Samuel continues to apologize and
reassure them, but the Wilsons are lost to relief. Later
the impatient room fourteen, Brian is holding his baby boy
and suddenly he has an idea. What do you think
about Dylan has a name? He asked Melinda. Her eyes
light up. I love it, she says. Brian looks down
(30:32):
at Dylan, taking a peek into his ear. It looks
brand new, perfect. It reminds him of that still illuminated
swimming pool back home. He thinks about the sort of
father he'll be to his first son, How he won't
repeat the tragedies of the past. How for this young Wilson,
Brian will make sure there's no blood on the Tracks.
(31:00):
Ye Blood on the Tracks is 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 Sadly.
Zeth Lundi is lead editor and producer. This episode was
(31:22):
written by Ben Burrow, mixing on sound designed by Colin Fleming.
Additional music and score elements by Ryan Spraaker. This season
features Chris Anzaloni as the voice of Brian Wilson. Sources
for this episode are available at Double Elvis dot com
on the Blood on the Tracks series page. Follow Double
Elvis on Instagram at double Elvis and on Twitch at
(31:43):
s Grace and Talks, and you can talk to me
per Usual on Instagram and Twitter at Disgrace Land Pond
Rock and Roll Dye Crags over
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. Hello everyone. Rhonda Masson back with
(00:50):
you again. Still going through all of Brian Wilson's archival tapes.
This job is turning out to be bigger than I thought.
There's hours and hours of studiotape that is just chatter,
I mean, no music at all. I've tried to catalog
these the best I can, but as you can imagine,
it's hard to work out where they came from. There's
(01:10):
one session where Brian and his father are arguing for ages.
Once again, these aren't always an easy listen, so please
do bear that in mind. Dad, can you come out
of the studio and back into the booth. What I
(01:35):
can't hear you through the glass? Would you come in here, Dad, please?
We can't carry on like this. We would like to
record under an atmosphere of calm. What the mix is fine?
Stop worrying about where to place the microphone. I can
(01:58):
hear the mix, just fine. I've got one good year left,
haven't I. I'm not gonna do this now. This is
a waste of time. You're you're not being very kind. Okay,
you can behave like a child if you want. Just
come in here. We're running out of time. Whatever you want,
(02:19):
I'll do. Just please stop. Please. There's almost an hour
of this. It gets pretty angry and pretty full on.
There's a lot of tension, a lot of arguing, and
a lot of blood on the tracks. Chapter five. Brian
(02:59):
Wilson M. It's a sun good morning. You're tuned into
one oh five point four b R I A N
F L. We're going all the way back today, all
(03:22):
the way back in time. We're revisiting some big hits
from yesteryear. It's time to rewind back in the glorious fifties. Planes.
You know, every time I see a plane it reminds
me of that house, that that moment, It reminds me
(03:42):
of the piano, the thud ringing in my ears. I
can feel it all again, the dull ache, the way
it's spread across my face, silence that followed, I'm rambling. Sorry,
I guess we should get to the thing that we've
been dancing around for a while. My old man, my dad,
(04:07):
Murray Wilson. It's funny. I try not to think about
it too much, but then it comes back. Like the
other day, I found something paper I wrote in high
school philosophy paper. As soon as I saw it, it
all came flooding back. One sentence stood out the most
when I read it. I wrote, I think the type
(04:28):
of character a person develops comes largely with the background
of family living. Boy, I was right. A lot of
good came from my family. My dad loved music, but
he wasn't in the music industry, so he pushed me
and my brothers to become one of the biggest groups
in the world. Please, that wouldn't have happened without him, seriously,
(04:53):
but he also caused the band's downfall before it even began. Hell,
he even caused my downfall before I even began. In
some ways, I was very afraid of him. In other ways,
I loved him because he knew where it was at.
He had that competitive spirit which really blew my mind.
The day I wrote that paper, I was at home
(05:14):
in our house in Hawthorne. We lived right under the
flight path of l A International. It was only a
few miles away, but it felt like it was in
a different world. I used to watch the planes from
my window, and I wish I could get on one,
you know, just get away to be anywhere, London, Hawaii, Tokyo.
I was watching a gateway to the world that I
(05:36):
could never use. As I was working on that paper,
I kept gazing up to the sky and watching the planes.
I stared at one as it scribbled a white line
on the massive blue But as soon as I heard
our front door open, my head went straight down. My
dad was home from work. Now he was always physical
(05:59):
with us, which obviously isn't right. But I have to
tell you he wasn't a complete monster. This isn't a
Hollywood film, but there's more than heroes and villains here.
There are gray areas too. My dad did a lot
of good, but there was a lot of bad in him.
We can't carry on like this. That day, he crashed
(06:20):
into my room and asked what I was doing homework?
I told him. He took one look at it, and
I could tell he was mad that part about a family. Brian,
come on, what's that mean? I can't hear you? He
spoke softly. But did it through clenched teeth. Have we
not given you enough? He asked. I could tell he
(06:42):
was getting angry. I heard a jet pass over the
house and turned to the window to see it. I
felt like if I ignored him, he might just leave,
leave and go find Carl or Dennis or I don't
know anyone but me. I'm not gonna do this now, Brian,
he shouted, are you listening to me? I knew what
(07:05):
was about to happen. This always happened. Turn around, he said.
When I didn't move, he screamed with the request at me.
I slowly turned. My eyes were fixed to the floor.
Look at me, he said. I slowly moved my gaze
up from his legs to his torso, then his neck,
(07:28):
then to his eyes. They were fixed on me. Then
he slowly moved his right hand up in the air
and gripped his thumb and forefinger around his right eyeball
and pulled it from its socket. It squelched and clicked
as it came out. The glass surface caught the sunlight.
Come here, he said coldly. Then he leaned closer and whispered,
(07:52):
look into it please. He rolled his head slightly so
I could see the empty socket. It was wet and shiny,
he laced with red scar tissue. I closed my own eyes,
but it was all I could see. This is a
waste of time. When I opened them again, I was
(08:13):
sitting on my bed. I must have fainted or forgotten.
I don't know. Dad was sitting next to me, his
glass eye back in its socket. You shouldn't be so afraid,
he said, Now you rewrite that paper after you've made
us dinner. You understand we can't carry on like this.
As he left the room, I felt a rage build
(08:35):
up inside of me. It wasn't the first time I
had gotten the old eye trick, and I was sure
it wouldn't be the last. But this time it really
got to me. I was just so sick of it all.
Maybe it was the planes goading me from the sky.
Maybe it was how proud I was of my writing
in that paper, or maybe it was just because this
(08:58):
was the millionth time he'd end bushed me like that.
Whatever it was, I just snapped. I marched past him
to the kitchen and grabbed a plate. I took it
to my bedroom, dropped my trousers and took a massive
ship on it. Yes, really, you can behave like a
child if you want. The full plate was disgusting, I
(09:20):
mean fucking disgusting. It. It was horrible to look at,
but I was strangely proud. Can you be proud when
you've just defecated on a plate? It turns out you can.
I carried into the living room, where my dad had
installed himself in his chair. I thrust my prize in
front of him. Here's your fucking dinner. I waited for him.
(09:44):
I wanted him to try to come after me. I
would have knocked him out. I could see myself doing it.
But he didn't come after me. He just put the
plate to the side. He didn't even get up. I
think you should go of the bathroom and clean yourself up,
he said again, with that cold voice. It was there
(10:06):
in the bathroom that he whipped me until I ended
up on the floor crying. It was so bad, it
hurts so much. I begged him to take his eye
out again and let that be my punishment, but he
just kept on whipping me with his belt. To be honest,
though I kind of got off easy that day, other
(10:29):
times his violence would have a much bigger effect. You know,
(11:01):
it's funny making smile. I felt safe. I felt really
safe until I didn't. But despite everything that happened, everything
that I told you about, for the longest time, I
enjoyed smile. I thought it was going to work out great.
Looking back, the music seemed to be the most solid
thing about it all. It was other band members, of
(11:23):
their family members, other voices. They were the things that
were making the projects stall, not the music that kept coming.
The mix is fine. But one day we were working
on a song called Vegetables. I liked working on that one.
It was fun. I used to sprinkle the console with
(11:44):
salt and seasoning before we started, just to set the mood.
I can hear them makes it just fine. I also
put out some real vegetables too. There was celery everywhere.
I would dip the celery into a jar of salt
and crunched down on it. We were doing a take.
Paul McCartney even came by one of the sessions and
(12:04):
he munched some salary right into the microphone. He enjoyed himself.
I think I'm not sure whatever happened to those tapes,
but that was a blast to have a beatle to
play the the celery. I was in the control room
with Chuck Britts, our engineer. We were having a break
and he turned to me and said, you know, Brian,
(12:25):
I've always wondered why you talk out at the side
of your mouth. I was a bit taken back. I
paused for a moment for answering him. Honestly, it's my
right ear, I told him, I can't hear anything out
of it. I guess over time I've started speaking like
that because of my ear. I've got one good ear left,
haven't I hang. Chuck waited a second before asking the
(12:49):
next question. I knew he was going to ask it
they always do. How did you lose your hearing? He
asked politely. I must have answered him, but I don't
remember it. I stared at the desk covered in salt,
but that's not what I saw. I saw, my dad.
I saw a lead pipe. I saw a lot of things. Now,
(13:16):
do you want the truth or something easier? Okay, here's
how I lost my hearing. In my readier, I was
just a kid playing outside in our neighborhood. There was
this kid named Seymour. I think that was either his
first or his last name, I can't remember. He had
a lid pipe in his hands. You could behave like
(13:37):
a child if you want. The sun was bright, and
all I could see was his outline against the endless
yellowy orange glow behind him. Everything from that moment seemed
to go in slow motion. Without warning, he raised the
pipe up and smashed it into the side of my head.
I never knew why. Shock was all I felt. I
(13:58):
didn't even realize it had been hit until the pain
was coursing through my bones. The sun was in my eyes.
The pain spread from my ear across my head and
then to my torso my knees weakened. I fell to
the floor. It was a few days later I realized
my hearing was changed forever. It wasn't coming back. My
(14:21):
mother eventually took me to the doctor and he said
that the hearing had gone all down to the eighth
nerve in my head, being severed. Do you know? It
was strange. Though I spoke to my dad about it.
I thought he would tell me to toughen up and
go back and teach that kid a lesson. But he
didn't dead please. He sat with me. He looked at
(14:45):
my ear and asked me how I was doing. Then
he told me the weirdest story. He said that when
he was younger, his dad, a man called Buddy, took
a swing at him with you guessed it, a lead pipe,
didn't really took my dad's ear off. They rushed him
to the emergency room and managed to save it. I
(15:05):
was shocked. I didn't know if it was a joke
or if he was taunting me. But when I looked
at him, I saw such pain, such sadness within him,
I knew it was true. I never felt closer to
him in that moment. My old man seemed to shrink,
to pull back the curtain, to give me a glimpse
into something else. Now, do you want the truth or
(15:31):
something easier? Here's how I lost the hearing in my
right ear. My dad had been drinking. He drank a lot.
He was mean when he drank. I was sitting at
the family piano just messing around with the keys, playing something.
My dad came in and sat down next to me.
He'd been cutting some wood in the yard. He smelled
(15:54):
like sweat and booze. What's that, he asked, smiling. What
just a tune I'm making up? I mumbled, It's good,
he replied. He seems so happy, content even he really
loved music. He asked me to budge over, and he
(16:16):
played a few notes of Rhapsody in Blue, the Gershwin masterpiece.
But he hit a bum note a couple of bars in.
I laughed and pressed the key next to it, completing
the sequence like this. I smiled up at him, but
he turned away from me. He didn't say anything at all.
It was like something blocked out of the sun, like
(16:37):
rain clouds appeared out of nowhere. I could feel the
shift within him. Hands up, he said. I immediately took
my fingers off the keys, and he slammed the piano shut.
He left the room in silence. I sat wondering what
had just happened. Seconds later, he reappeared with a block
(16:59):
of wood two by four, and without warning, he swung
it around and slammed it into my right ear. Do
you think you're better than me, he screamed. You will
have to practice a lot if you want to be anything,
because right now you're nothing. You've got that. My brain
felt like I was slashing around in my head. I
(17:21):
couldn't think straight. I felt dizzy, like the world was
spinning out of control. I knew some serious damage had
been done. I went to the emergency room a week
later with my mother, and they told me I'd lost
the hearing in that year. My son is a liar.
He was born deaf. Nothing made him deaf apart from
his own body. He came out like that. My dad
(17:43):
was all I could think about in that control room
with the salt covered desk. Chuck smiled at me empathetically.
I'm used to seeing that look. I get it more
and more as I've gotten older. To be honest, I
don't care for it so much. I grabbed the celery
in front of me and took a huge bite. I
smiled at Chuck, But what I didn't tell them was
(18:05):
that the ringing in my right ear had started again.
We'll be right back after this. We were were. Success
is a funny thing. Sometimes you get to the top
(18:27):
of the mountain and the view is still the same.
Sometimes the end of the rainbow just takes you back
to the start. I feel a little bit like that. Sometimes,
no matter how successful you get, your problems are still there. Money, recognition, fame, Sure,
they all play their role in happiness. I'm not gonna
sit here and blastom New Age bullshit at you. They
(18:49):
can make you happy, but what those things can't do
is cure wounds. You have to do that all for yourself.
One night at my house in Laurel Canyon were having
a huge party. It was dark and the pool lights
were on. I've always liked how a pool looks at night,
the way the light catches the water. It makes it
(19:09):
seem magical. It looks so perfect, untouched, clean, peaceful, an
atmosphere of calm. That night, I was gazing at my
pool as l a loomed in the background. It's twinkling
lights mirroring the night sky. My brother Kyle came up
to me and threw his arm around my shoulder. You've
done it again, he said, We've done it, I corrected him.
(19:33):
Someone across the pool yelled a second Beach Boys number
one single, and everyone cheered. Al came over and joined us.
Grinning just like Carl. You want to see it again,
he asked, holding up a copy of Billboard magazine. I
flicked to the page the Billboard hot one. At the top,
it read the Beach Boys Helped Me Rhonda, and next
(19:56):
to that was a large black one. Dennis smiled at
me and said it was all worth it. In the end,
my brothers were called away to someone else and I
was left on my own. Was it, i asked myself,
Was it worth it? What you see helped me? Rhonda
(20:17):
was a huge success for us, but it was also
the culmination of years of tension. My dad came to
that session. He was often present in our recording sessions
and pretty much any activity the band was engaged in.
Even after we dismissed him as our manager. He managed
in the same way he parented. He was hard and
(20:39):
often cruel. You're you're not being very kind. He wouldn't
let us talk to girls or even drink on tour.
He'd find us a hundred dollars if we broke any
of his rules, and I remember one tour of Australia
he even changed that fine to a thousand dollars. The
day we cut helped me Rhonda, though finds and rules
(20:59):
all shrank at the eyes of a p All of
our frustrations, all of our differences and our similarities came
out in that session. We were cutting the vocals, and
I knew from the very second the tape was rolling
it was going to be a long day. Dad turned
up and immediately took a place in the control booth
that we usually reserved for the producer, a place we
(21:19):
usually reserved for me come out of the studio. I
sat next to him as the boys were in the
main room. When they finished a take, he jumped up
and strolled into the main studio. That wasn't good, he
said to Al. No, really, that was a little you
need to be more doo by Doobi duh. I couldn't
(21:40):
believe he was singing to al singing to a man who,
let me remind you, was in one of the biggest
pop groups of the moment. Al kind of shrugged, Just
loosen up and be happy. My dad shouted, we can't
carry on like this. That made me laugh, shouting at
someone to be happy. We did another take, and when
(22:02):
it was finished, I asked Alic we could have one more.
Before he could reply, my dad said that one was fine, Well,
let's move on. I couldn't believe it. I was in charge,
This was my session, my band. This is a waste
of time. I shouted on the microphone from the control
booth that we were doing another take immediately. Dad came
(22:25):
back into the room with me after that, but he
didn't stop, which wasn't a surprise. But what was a
surprise is that from here on out he directed most
of his anger at everyone else apart from me, although
I suspected he was angry at them in order to
get at me. Please, With every take he found a problem.
(22:46):
Mike was flat, Dennis wasn't giving his all. Everyone was
getting piste off. I couldn't stand it anymore, so I
went into the main studio to get away from him.
I'm not going to do this now. We were slogging
our guts out in this studio and he was just
sitting in the control room barking into the microphone. After
one take, he cried, Okay, so you guys are big
(23:07):
stars now, but have you got any guts? You have
to fight for success. Mike looked over at me, his
face all screwed up. Dad didn't stop. You've got no guts,
no guts. Come on, let's go. Let's hear you, he
yelled again in that dominaring, patronizing voice. Hey, I shouted,
(23:29):
I've got one good ear left, and your fucking big
voice is ruining that. I've got one good ear left,
haven't I? He laughed, but I could tell he was shocked.
I told him he was embarrassing me. Then I corrected myself,
You're just embarrassing. I said, we would like to record
under an atmosphere of a calm. I'd had enough. I
(23:53):
stormed into the control room. I told him we didn't
need his help. He ignored me. He grabbed the microphone
and kept delivering more direction to Al. I was so angry.
I shoved him aside and grabbed the mic and told
Al to give us a second. My dad slammed his
body into me and yanked the mic back towards him.
(24:14):
You need to make records like we used to, he
bellowed at me. You could behave like a child if
you want. I leaned my body back and held it
there for a second. Do it, I thought to myself,
Just fucking do it. I took a deep breath and
slammed my entire body weight into him. He flew across
(24:35):
the console, toppling over and landing against a chair. He
looked up at me, all weak and feeble from the floor.
He said, do you think just because you've made some money,
everything is going to be a hit. We're running out
of time. I ignored him and demanded al to do
another take out of time. You know what, though, I
(24:58):
did think it was going to be a hit, because
it was the fucking number one hit. There was only
one producer credit for helping me, Rhonda, and it was
Brian Douglas Wilson. Cedar Sinai Medical Center, West Hollywood, two
(25:42):
thousand four. Dr Emma Samuel examines an X ray of
an ear. She knows something isn't right with her patient,
but the X ray looks fine. She takes a large
gulp of coffee from a styro phone cup. She checks
her watch. It's been ours. She's going to have to
talk to them, explaining that she just doesn't know what's wrong.
(26:03):
She picks up the receiver of a phone on the
wall and then just as quickly hangs it back up.
She has an idea. She walks quickly to Patient Room fourteen,
full of hope, she pushes open the door labeled Baby Wilson.
She creeps up to a small newborn lying sound asleep
in a cot. She delicately moves his head to one
side and uses her outoscope to take another look in
(26:24):
the infant's ears. Nothing disappointed again. Moments later, Dr Samuel
is back at the wall, clutching the phone, her heart
rate increasing. She dials the number from her notes and waits.
Just under a mile away, Brian Wilson is sitting by
his pool. He watches the calm water as it remains
(26:46):
undisturbed by the still West coast air. Melinda, his wife,
is in the house, anxiously twisting the cord of their
phone around her finger. The accent Summer Olympics plays on
a TV in the background, but no one is paying
attention to it. She calls out to Bryant. You know
my friend Samantha, She called her little boy Gauge. I
don't mind that. Brian's eyes are still fixed on the pool.
(27:09):
His mouth curls up. My dad's middle name was Gauge,
he replies. Melinda receives him loud and clear. Names are hard,
especially with adoption. She says, I guess we should see
him again before we decide. Although, what do you think about?
The loud ring of the Wilson home phone erupts her.
She's been waiting for that ring all day. She quickly
(27:29):
picks up the receiver. Mrs Wilson comes to voice on
the other end. This is Dr Emma Samuel. I'm just
calling to give you an update. We Linda cuts her off.
Is he okay? The doctor takes a second. This is
a tricky situation. If she goes too easy, she could
undersell a serious problem later down the line. Too hard,
(27:50):
and the whole thing will be clouded in fear. We
have detected a slight issue with the baby's hearing. Dr
Samuel says his right here, I think it's best if
you come in like we said. Belinda's mind races, and
before she knows it, she and Brian are in their
Cadillac heading to West Hollywood. As Brian drives, he starts
to feel sick. Is that really what the doctor said?
(28:13):
Did Melinda hear her right? A slight issue with the
baby's hearing. Melinda could barely get the words out to respond.
She's sure. At first. Brian doesn't speak, but his mind
flashes back to the lead pipe and the hot Hawthorne son,
his father playing Gershwin on the piano. His right ear
starts to ring, and their sweat on his forehead. I
(28:34):
don't understand, he says. Finally, what is this a joke?
A joke from God? Silence Melinda, he shouts. Melinda responds,
tears in her eyes. She knows it's going to be
hard for Brian to process, but he's gonna have to
figure it out. He's gonna have to find a way
to deal with this. Brian isn't listening. His eyes are
(28:55):
fixed on the traffic moving in front of him, and
that's when he sees it. That's when he see he's him.
The man who just passed him at the busy junction
and who is now parking is battered t one Triumph motorcycle.
It looks a lot like Bob Dylan. It's gotta be Dylan.
Brian watches him shuffle down the sidewalk, a hoodie obscuring
his head. Despite the l a heat, Brian's mind just
(29:19):
to a Newsweek article that he still has in his
office at home, an issue from Bob Dylan's words and
big red pull quote type the ones that read Brian
Wilson that a year. I mean, Jesus, he's got to
will that to the Smithsonian. And just thinking about those
words gives Brian goose bumps on his arms and butterflies
in his stomach. That year, That year, he thinks to himself.
(29:45):
A few blocks later, Brian and Melinda are rushing into
Cedar Sinai, where Dr Samuel stands waiting. She's clutching a
beige file in her hand and looks relieved. I'm so
sorry to rush you down here, she says. Turns out
you don't need to come down after all, because we've
we found the problem. Just some water in the year,
is all not a long lasting issue we can easily.
Melinda cuts the doctor off again, but this time it's
(30:08):
because she's hugging her. Dr Samuel continues to apologize and
reassure them, but the Wilsons are lost to relief. Later
the impatient room fourteen, Brian is holding his baby boy
and suddenly he has an idea. What do you think
about Dylan has a name? He asked Melinda. Her eyes
light up. I love it, she says. Brian looks down
(30:32):
at Dylan, taking a peek into his ear. It looks
brand new, perfect. It reminds him of that still illuminated
swimming pool back home. He thinks about the sort of
father he'll be to his first son, How he won't
repeat the tragedies of the past. How for this young Wilson,
Brian will make sure there's no blood on the Tracks.
(31:00):
Ye Blood on the Tracks is 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 Sadly.
Zeth Lundi is lead editor and producer. This episode was
(31:22):
written by Ben Burrow, mixing on sound designed by Colin Fleming.
Additional music and score elements by Ryan Spraaker. This season
features Chris Anzaloni as the voice of Brian Wilson. Sources
for this episode are available at Double Elvis dot com
on the Blood on the Tracks series page. Follow Double
Elvis on Instagram at double Elvis and on Twitch at
(31:43):
s Grace and Talks, and you can talk to me
per Usual on Instagram and Twitter at Disgrace Land Pond
Rock and Roll Dye Crags over
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