Brian Wilson Is Smiling Again (The Brian Wilson Story, Chapter 10)

But somewhere along the way, Brian Wilson lost his mind instead. This is his story. Rhonda Masson here once again. I can't believe we've come to the end of these Brian Wilson tapes and to the end of this project. All these final bits and pieces are from two thousand four. I think they're all video tapes from the album Brian Wilson Presents Smile, which of course is the resurrected version

of the record he abandoned nearly forty years earlier. They're all pretty well cataloged and most contained material that ended up on the record. But there was one tape I found that has just been left. I'll play it for you. Now here we go. Okay, everyone, can you all hear me in there? Good? Let's try some take. I have some history with this. This song was a tough one, but we can get it. You can get it today. Sometimes history isn't a bad thing. History can make you wise,

You can make you right your wrongs. Everything that is taking place in the past is a preparation for the opportunities to calm. You can change your future using your history. M don't be afraid of the song. Don't be afraid of the thinks you've heard about it. Don't be afraid of anything. We have to face stuff like this as songwriters and musicians, as people. Okay, fight Mrs o'larry's cow take one. Give me everything you've got on us. I

want everybody's best shot. Let's get some blood on the tracks. Chapter ten. Brian Wilson was smiling again. Good morning, This is b r I a n FM, coming to you live from the temporal Lobe. It's another beautiful day out there. The sun is shining and the sea is warm. I wake up and it's early. Melinda is sleeping next to me. The kids are asleep too. It's the first day of the rest of my life. I can feel it. I've been playing it cool, but my mind has been whirling

around and around. We Linda could tell. Last night. I think I was quiet, reserved, she said, But this morning I feel okay. No, I feel better than okay. There was my life before all this happened, and my life after it. Was it better before? Probably not? Will it be better after? I don't know. Maybe, but then again maybe not. It's hard to tell. With a mind like mine, you just never know. I've learned to play it by ear, like a good song to go with it all. I

have some history with this. I've spent my whole life scared, my whole life under pressure from someone or something. I don't think that will ever go away. But you can manage it, you can deal with it. Don't be afraid. You can't stop a lot of things in this world, but you can live with them. Don't be afraid of anything. I walked softly down the back staircase and into the kitchen. There's three pills on the counter. I take my usual amount with a cool glass of water. I washed the glass,

dry it and place it back in the cupboard. It's deadly quiet. I look at the clock on the wall, five nights a teen. I breathe out and muttered to myself, we'll be doing it in under five hours. We'll be in there. My mind pictures of control booth, the drum kit, microphone, then a fireman's hat. This song was a tough one. I swallow hard, then close my eyes. I breathe in, then out, in then out. I know where I'm going,

I know what I want to do. It's strange how your body, or your mind or both gave you these little ideas, these little thoughts, that all of a sudden you have to carry out. Impulse, that's what it is. That's what I can feel. History can make you wise. I make my way to the back door, and as I do, I walk past the calendar on the wall. Today's date is circled and written there it says, warding day one. I don't dare look at it. I just

keep walking outside. The sun is hot already. The bird's song fills my ears, and I closed my eyes as I walked down the perfectly manicured grass. I'm barefoot and it feels like carpet under my toes. I thought i'd feel worse than this. I'm worried. This is just the calm before the storm. I've seen that before, I felt like that before, but I have to admit this time it does feel different. Don't be afraid of the song. Finally, the feeling of grass under my feet gives way to

the feeling of sand. It's cool and soft. I stopped and dig my feet into it. It's reassuring, like a heavy blanket or a cup of cocoa. I stopped and stare at the horizon where the Pacific Ocean meets the sky. There's no one else around. The light ances off the water, and there's a light breeze that drifts around me. Everything feels calm, settled, like there's no more worry shows all over. Everything has happened, like watching an old movie you love or hearing an old song. Don't be afraid of the

thinks you've heard about it. I'm not really going to do this, am I? I think to myself. I feel nervous. How could I not? But I feel happy too. I waste a bit of time looking up and down the beach. Then I mutter, okay, come on, Brian. Smile was once again appearing in my mind. More and more, and this feeling. This idea just grew and grew with it. I walk up the beach and begin to slowly climb up the rocks on the far side. I go right up to the top. When I get there, I'm panting. I stand

and look at the whole beach. You can see it all from up there. It's like I'm on top of the world. History can make you wise. I looked down and see the ocean lapping at the rocks below. Without a second thought, I grabbed the shirt and wearing pull it off. I take two steps back and jump as high as I can. You can change your future using your history. I feel like I'm dancing in the air. It's just me, the son above and the Pacific below.

I closed my eyes as I plumb it down at an almost violent speed, but as I do, the silence of the morning is broken. I hear someone above me screaming, Brian. I try to look up, but it's already too late. The water crashes around my body. It engulfs me entirely. It's cold and dark and be silent as I shoot down further into it. After a few seconds, I stopped and hang there, suspend it in time, completely alone. Completely still. Then I a shop further and further, higher and higher.

I'm like a shooting star streaming across the sky. A light starts to appear up above. I put my hand out and reach for it. Any second I'll touch it, that welcoming, warm light. I make a grab for it and crash out of the water and back into reality. I gulp in deep breaths and feel the sun on my face again. Give me everything, everything, everything, Who I shout? I feel alive, like I've just shed my skin or something. Give me everything you've got. I look up and see

who had screamed my name only moments earlier. I see her straight away. It's Melinda, shouting some more as she sprints into the ocean, still in her pajamas. Brian, She's shouting, what the hell are you doing? She's gasping for breath as the water splashes all around her, and then she dives in and swim ms with the speed of an Olympian towards me. When she reaches me, she asks what the fund is going on? I felt like a swim

I tell her, don't be afraid. You haven't been in the sea in forty years, and now you feel like a swim. Her anger turns to laughter in less time than it takes for her to complete the sentence, and then she throws her arms around me and tells me we should get dry. Just do one more thing for me, I ask. A smile creeps across my face. Five minutes later, we're both on top of the rocks. My shirt is

where I left it, okay. After three, she shouts one, two, three, Then we both jump the sky above us, the ocean below, and freedom all around. Good morning from a chili London town. This is b R I, a n f M, broadcasting to you from the English capital. Watch out for those showers out there. They can be alarming. Sometimes I opened doors in here, you know, inside my mind, and I can't bear to look behind them, but I do it anyway. I don't know why. Sometimes they're almost impossible to close.

You unlock memories, thoughts or feelings, and they're too much to take. Can you all hear me in there? But sometimes you can look back on something and get closure. Sometimes history isn't a bad thing. Sometimes you can find redemption, but you have to find it for yourself. No one is going to give it to you. You can't find it in a movie or a song. You can only

find it inside yourself. Sure, someone else can bring it out of you, they can help you get there, but in the end, you're the one that has to find it and grab it. You can change your future using your history. I guess what I'm trying to say is I knew I had to forgive myself. That was the

only way out. After standing at the side of the stage at Radio City Music Hall with Elton John, watching George Martin speak so positively about me, and then later spontaneously playing heroes and villains at Scott Bennett's house, I felt like my relationship with Smile was turning, turning into something less negative. Welinda had encouraged that too, So in the summer of two thousand four, I went to the studio and we recut it. We redid the whole album

from scratch. Was I nervous? God, I was terrified. But it wasn't that simple. It took time. Things had to happen before we got there. First, I included a couple of Smile songs in my regular set list when touring. Don't be afraid of this song. Then we had the idea to perform a live show, Smile in its entirety live. We decided on London. I have often said that that city is my spiritual home. I love it there, I have some history. So there I was standing in the

large auditorium at the Royal Festival Hall. It was winter and it was cold outside, but the hall was right on the water, right on the Thames. It felt like it fits Smile somehow, the closeness of the water. I kept singing this song by three Dog Night. Easy to be hard, That's what this whole experience was like. It's been hard, but it's been easy. It's easy to say yes to do some shows, getting on a plane to rehearsing, but it's hard to actually walk out on stage on

the night. Are you ready? Asked Darian Sahanaja Darien is in my band. He was in the Wonderments too. If you know my story, you know we're connected. I told him I was ready to go, and we walked to the stage for the rehearsal. We have to face stuff like this. That's when it started. The noise was deafening, A wailing fire alarm sounded. Its presence was so large, but it was invisible to your eyes, so a brain has trouble with it. I turned to Darien and shouted,

it's fate. He's mild, but he could tell I was nervous history with this. They eventually shut it off. The stage manager Philip apologized profusely in the way only the British can. He told us the system was only a few years old and had never done this before. Okay, we're fine, no problem. Ten minutes later, I was on stage as Darian counted us in on heroes and villains. Okay, one, two, three, he yelled, but the number four was drowned out. It was the fire alarm again. This song was a tough one,

so loud it rattled my chest. I looked over at Darien. I'm sure he could tell I was getting nervous. They finally shut it off again, but now there was this tension in the room. Can you'll hear me in there? Fifteen minutes later, after a few uninterrupted songs, Darian shouted out to the band that we were ready to do this is a larious cow. I sat behind the piano. You know it would be funny, I said if the alarm went off during But my words were cut short

as that loud noise returned to the hall. Everyone froze and exchanged awkward glances. The stage manager was back and apologizing once again. He told us to take five while they worked it out. Darien glanced at his watch. Well he knew we were running out of time everything that is taking place. He was passed. He followed me to my dressing room, where I sat with Melinda. Look, he said, I'm getting worried. It's one thing to rehearse in our normal space, but we need time in this room, especially

for a gig of this magnitude. There was an uneasy silence. We can't cancel, Melinda responded, we might have to postpone, Darian said, taking place in the past and now their uneasy pause. The tension was building in that room. I sat in silence while the other two looked exasperated. That exasperation turned to angers yet again, the alarm went off. It was even louder backstage. Jesus Christ. Melinda shouted, but then she stopped and looked at her watch. It had

been exactly fifteen minutes since the last alarm. She took a look at me. She stared right at me intensely. Then she shook her head and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Moments later, the alarm stopped. You can change your future. Then Melinda reappeared with Joey, one of our roadies. She was angry, Brian, She barked, Ship, can you tell me and Darian what Joey is being

paid to do today? Joey's eyes were wide, even wider than when I offered him a thousand bucks that morning to find out where the alarm test system was for the Royal Festival Hall. Don't be afraid to be a roadie, I said, tentatively, But the game was up. I sheepishly explained that I paid Joey to set the alarm off every fifteen minutes during rehearsal. Everyone out. She shouted at the room, and then looked at me and said, not you don't be afraid. Once we were alone, she was soft,

kind and encouraging. She told me that if I didn't want to do the gig, I should have just said so. I explained that I did want to do the gig, but that I was scared. Don't be afraid. I was worried how it would all go. I held her hand and I didn't want to let go. Do you remember this morning? She smiled the sea? How long was it? Forty years? I remembered the water, how it felt, the early morning sun. On that feeling of calm control. I took a deep breath and I looked into Melinda's eyes.

I was ready, actually ready this time. That evening, I was on stage in front of a packed crowd. My band was singing our prayer. Right at the start of the show. The lights were down low. You could hear a pin drop. Let's try to take it. There was a brief silence when we finished singing, and then the snare hit like a starting pistol, and we launched into Heroes and Villains, Give me everything you've got. The stage

lights burst into radiant, bright white light. I could feel it on my skin, like the sun in the middle of summer, warm and forgiving. I always hated being on stage, but tonight I felt like I was in my old chair at home. As I looked up during the first few lines of the song, for just for a second, I thought I saw my dad and Phil Spector. They looked happy for me. Don't be afraid of anything. I stared at their big grins, and their big eyes. I blinked in the bright light. When I look back, they

were gone. We'll be right back after this we were after the show at the Royal Festival Hall. We kept touring the album No fire alarms. This time it was the success, reviews, sales, all of it arousing success. I felt like a chapter of my life for perhaps the chapter of my life was coming to an end. History can make you wise, but it wasn't over. Melinda Darien and a record producer named Mark Lynette, we're all trying to convince me to record a new version of Smile,

the one we were performing on stage. It took me two weeks to give them an answer. We went into the studio in April two thousand four, Sunset Sound to begin with. That was one of the studios we cut the original Smile in when they suggested that place actually shuttered. But like with the show or going into the Ocean, I wanted to face things head on, to stand up for once, to confront the fear you can change your future using your history. So we went in. Sometimes being

afraid is like bordering on excitement. It's good scary. We have to face stuff like this, like Smile had gone from scary scary to good scary. But with everything that had happened between me and that project, it was bound to be hard in places, and this song was a tough one. At Sunset Sound, Darien and Mark had assembled a ten piece band. Most of the guys had been on stage at the Royal Festival Hall that first night. They could both tell I was nervous. I couldn't even

hold a glass of water in my hand without shaking. Brian, They asked me, are you sure you want to record this song today? I nodded, yeah, I was sure. Head on, give me everything you've got. You've got. The song we were due to record was Mrs O'Leary's Cow, otherwise known as Fire. My mind rewound through flickering images of burning tapes and l a fires. I looked down at the chair I was sitting and saw that my hand was gripped so tightly around the arm that my knuckles were

completely white. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe, but all I could think about was that session, back in the session that broke Smile, the session that broke me. The fire, fire everywhere, just burning everything, burning, Chicago, burning, Los Angeles, Brian came Mark's voice. Are you okay, okay, I'm fine, I stuttered, Let's go. The moment I stepped inside the studio room, I could feel it, the heat, don't be afraid. Then I could smell it. I thought

it was a joke, someone was playing on me. At first I could smell smoke. Don't be afraid. I turned around and saw the cello player and smoking. What the hell are you doing, I asked. She laughed and took another puff. Darian asked me what was wrong. I spun around to look at him and saw he was wearing a plastic fireman's hat. Don't be afraid of the thinks you've heard about it. My froze. Then the other string players pulled out pieces of wood and started to chant

burn it all down, Burn it all down. I looked for the window to see if Mark was still in the recording booth, but I couldn't see him in there. The whole room was full of smoke, just this glass box of smoke was so thick you couldn't see anything. Then the smoke spilled out between the edges of the glass and into the studio, thicker and thicker. I fell to my knees and crawled forward. I shouted at Darian to get down out of the smoke, but he was silent.

Don't be afraid of the song. The chant was getting louder. Now burn it all down, burn it all down. It was all I could hear. I crawled into the smoke, praying for a way out. I gasped for air as sweat began to drip down my face. Then I tasted it in my mouth. It was salty and hot. I tried to bit it out, but it seemed to only get worse. Can you hear me in there? My mouth was full of sweat. I tried to get rid of it, but it was like a constant stream, as if someone

had put an ocean in my mouth. And now it was spilling out sweat everywhere. I was coughing. The smoke and the spit made it unable to breathe. I thought that was it. I thought I was going to be seeing Elvis soon. Don't be afraid. But then I saw a tiny light to the left of me. I made for it, crawling on my knees like a child. The light got bigger and bigger. Then I saw what it actually was. It was the door, Darian, I shouted, I found a way out. Nothing, no reply. I pushed the door.

At first it didn't budge, but I pushed harder, and after spitting that salty liquid from my mouth, I gave it a final shove with all my strength and it burst open. Don't be afraid of anything. I crashed through it and out into the parking lot. I opened my eyes and looked up Melndo standing in front of me. Her dress burst into flames, and then the flames spread to her hair, her face, and within seconds she was reduced to ashes in front of me. I screamed as

the building behind her burst into flames too. The fire roared and roared, and then Brian came Mark's voice, are you okay? Okay? My eyes open. I was back back from being in here lost. I was in the control booth at sunset sound. My eyes widened as I readjusted to the light. You looked like you were lost for a minute, he said, I'm fine. I said, let's go. We were did fire there and then all done and dusted very quickly. No Hollywood, theatrics. We just cut the track.

That's what the whole album was like. In two thousand four. It only took us a couple of weeks to actually record a few more to mix, but the recording was pretty straight down the line. After we cut the song that day, everyone was heading home and I was a left alone in the studio. Darien came in and thanked me for the day. Can I have the song on CD? I asked, Right now? He asked. I nodded, okay, no problem. I can just burn you one, he said, and then

started clicking the mouse on his computer. My legs started to shake and anticipation. I wanted to hold it, to have Smile in my hands, to know that it physically existed in the world. He handed it to me. The plastic was warm, shiny. I stared at it, my face distorted in the reflection. Can I have a moment? I asked him. Of course, he responded, and then I was left alone again. I took the CD and held it to my chest. I was trembling. Then I cried. I cried and cried and cried. I cried for Smile. I

cried for Dennis and Carl. I cried for my dad, and I cried for Phil Specter. But most of all, I cried for me. Sixty three am. That's when it starts. The ticking clock. That's when the countdown begins. In truth, it's been counting down for days, but he's been ignoring it. Coping mechanisms can help you do that, but sooner or later you have to face it. Sooner or later you have to jump in. Brian Wilson gets up in the pale morning light and sits hunched over on the edge

of his bed. Fourteen hours to go. Downstairs, he examined some newspapers still left on the countertop from a few weeks back. One shows an image of George W. Bush becoming the President of the United States for the second time. Brian starts to name the presidents in his head, anything to forget about what he's doing today. Thirteen hours to go. Brian's wife, Melinda, walks into the room and smiles. Have you decided yet, she asked. Carter Reagan Bush, Clint Brian

hear me. Brian looks up. I haven't decided, he replies. He checks his watch. Twelve hours fifty eight minutes to go. The day drags. It's slow and vacant. Brian can barely call it a day at all, since he's spending it, waiting for what's going to happen. When the evening finally ambles into view, Brian stands in front of the full length mirror on the inside of his bedroom wardrobe door. He's wearing a jet black tom Ford tucks, but that's not what he's looking at. He's staring right into his

own eyes. And the voices appear again, and they drift in and out. You're a genius, yet this is your first Grammy nomination. Phil Specter had four Imagine if you don't win Wind. He slams the door shut. His reflection is gone, and so are the voices. He makes his way downstairs. Two hours and thirty four minutes to go. He gets to the Staples Center early, but in his mind, he's not present at all. As he knew is his dressing room. He's stopped by one of the Grammy's producers.

Had Brian decided on the song? Who's going to perform? Yet Brian responds by muttering something about good vibrations and then something about fire, and then Brian has left the conversation. The door slams behind him as he walks into his dressing room. One hour and fifty eight minutes left. To go inside the dressing room. Brian sits in the corner with his little portable radio. The golden oldies coming from the small speaker give him comfort. He closes his eyes

and listens. We have to decide the song, Brian finally says. Brian shuffles in his seat. He wasn't ready yet, Brian, She shouts, please, this is a simple choice. It's just one song or the other. I think it should be good vibrations, but it doesn't really matter. Belinda's patience is waning as she watches her husband ignore. Brian make a fucking decision nothing, Brian, She screams, The funk is the problem.

The problem. Brian breaks his silence. The problem is that he's been trying to prove himself for all these years, to these people, to himself, to his old man, trying to prove that he's as good as Phil Specter or Mike or any fucking one. And this, this here, now, this is the end of it all. Smile. How long has he been thinking about this thing? How long has it dominated his life? And now the record is out, it's done, and what he's just supposed to say goodbye?

Melinda throws her arms around Brian as the tears well up under his eyes. At that moment, the dressing room door opens. It's the producer of the show again, the one they saw in the hallway. Brian turns to her and breathlessly tells her that they're going to play fire, not good vibrations, and there's thirty four minutes to go. Brian and Melinda are taken to their seats, where Brian watches Queen Latifa introduced the show. He looks around the crowd.

There are faces he half recognizes, Usher, Kanye West, Jennifer Lopez. They all make him feel out of place. He's too old for this. He's a dinosaur. He just wasn't made for these times and he should leave straight away. He gets up to go, but Melinda drags him back down. Three minutes to go. Brian's heart pumps quickly, his lips dry. He starts to fiddle with his tucks. Queen Latifa announces the next award is for Best Rock Instrumental Performance and

Jeff Beck is here to present it. Brian's head starts to spin. Jeff Beck strolls under the stage, waving. Wilson feels like the room is rumbling beneath him, and this is it. This is a success or failure, a happy ending or another bitter conclusion. Thirty seconds to go, okay, Jeff Beck says into the small microphone. Twenty seconds the winner of Best Rock Instrumental Performance. Ten seconds he fiddles with the envelope. Brian watches and screams internally, open it,

just sucking open it. Five seconds, four is three? Wow, okay too, It's one. Everything stops. Brian is still. He knows the winner, Jeff Beck says, is Brian Wilson with fire Mrs O'Leary's cow. The crowd screams, Brian's heart leaps up in his chest. Whilenda squeezes his hand and then pulls him in close. As Brian makes his way to the stage, he bathed and incandescent light and finally it's over. Thirty minutes later, Brian Wilson is back in his dressing

room with his radio on alone. He's got a few minutes before he's needed on stage to perform his Grammy winning song. He listens to the crack the old FM sound, and then he reaches over to the dial and turns it off for the first time in a long time, there is nothing, no talking, no music, no static, and for the briefest of moments, there's silence from all the Blood on the Tracks. Mr. Blood on the Tracks 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 Sather. Zeth Lundie 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 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 Grace and Talks, and you can talk to me per Usual on Instagram and Twitter at Disgrace Land, Pod, Rock and Roll, Dytegrages our dand