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 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. Good morning, this is Rhonda Mosson back with you. It's been a couple of days since my last update. I've been going in deep on these Brian Wilson tapes. Sometimes you come across a classic song, sometimes you come across a game they were playing in the studio, and then sometimes you get something like this. This is something we've not really hurt so far. This
tape has just labeled psychedelic sounds. Oh no, help, help, I'm trapped. I'm stuck in the microphone. I'm trapped in here. Van Dyke, help me, Vandyke. Oh, come on, man. Right now, what's that? Don't use your name? Oh sorry, man, we're just having fun. We got to keep the tape rolling. Who knows where this will end up. Oh no, I'm stuck again. I'm over here in the piano. Help me, help me, Van Dyke, I mean help me, Anonymous man, help me? Mr Lyricists. All right, I'm sorry man, Let's
get back to work. Okay, no more joking around it. It's time to get on with this, time to get this all down. We're rolling, see what I mean. Brian seems a little bit more lighthearted on these particular tapes, but it's not long before there's some blood on the tracks. Chapter three, Brian Wilson is trapped. This story isn't mine. Well, the first part isn't anyway. But I'll tell it to you the best I can, because you need to hear it. It begins with him speeding through Laurel Canyon, the part
where the road snakes up through the hills. It's late and the lights twinkle in the valley. It's quiet. It's always quiet round here. You're close to one of the world's most famous cities, but you feel like you're in the middle of nowhere. Especially at night. It feels like anything can happen. He's on his Triumph Tiger and he's gunning it. The road before him is as open as his mind. He feels the excitement of change in the air. It makes him go even faster. Out of the corner
of his eye he sees a red flash. It disappears almost immediately, but then it comes back. Before he can work out what it is, it reveals itself with a siren. Cops, Oh, come on, man. The officer accelerates quickly and aggressively. The man thinks he can shake Johnny Law takes the next left abruptly, and the red light disappears to his right. He's lost him. He pulls over and gets his bearings, and then, in one quick movement, he pulls the pills that he's been carrying in his pocket into his shoe,
just to be sure. Okay, no more joking around. When he's back on the road, he starts to think about what brought him to Laurel Canyon that day. Excitement grows as he pumps the accelerator. He's flying now. Nothing can stop him. Well, maybe something can stop him. He slows down, blocking the road ahead as a motorbike. The cop from before comes into view. He has no choice but to stop.
It feels like it's ages before the bike comes to rest. You, the boy from before, the cop asks, sternly, before he's even off his ride. Oh, come on, man, right now? Yeah, I'm sorry. Did you want me to stop? Comes the cool reply. The policeman senses the sarcasm in a disapproving sort of way. He asks, your name, don't use your name Van Dyke parks, sir. The man replies, like Mr. Dick van Dyke, The officer asks, as he writes the name down Vandyke. Yes, sir, but I'm not a Dick, sir,
he smiles. The officer misses the Van Dyke Parks joke, instead choosing to note that he looked like a quote unquote bum. The cop asks the man if he has a driver's license, to which Van Dyke confesses that it's not on his person. The cop walks around him slowly right in the middle of the road. He studies Van Dyke's long, unbrushed hair and messy beard. What's a guy like you doing around Beverly Hills, Boy Van Dyke explained,
is that he's off to see a work associate. When the officer asks him what his line of work is, the reply that comes is storyteller. That's when the cop places his right hand on the butt of his gun. Oh sorry, man, we're just having fun here. All of a sudden, the cops seems annoyed, angry even I don't like your bullshit attitude. He says, without unclenching his teeth. I'm going to ask you again, tell me properly. Where are you heading tonight? Van Dyke states once again that
he's off to see a work associate. The cop pulls the gun from its holster and raising it up quickly. He asks Van Dyke if he has a hippie, if he's a criminal, if he's got drugs on him? Oh no, hell hell. Van Dyke could feel the pills in his shoe, but he tries to forget them. No, he cries, and then adds, I'm off to see Brian Wilson. We met the other night and he wants me to work on some songs. The cop freezes. He looks at the man before him, and then he lowers his gun and looks
a few hundred yards up the road. Well, we'll see what Mr Wilson has to say about that. That's when I joined the action. I was sitting at home and there was a hard knock at the door. I knew it wasn't Van Dyke, who I had been expecting. Remember what I said about vibrations. I could tell that the person on the other side of the door wasn't him, or at least he wasn't alone. It just felt off somehow, no joking around. I opened the door and there was a cops standing in front of me. Van Dyke was
to his left. Vandyke, do you know this man, Mr Wilson, the cop asked, not even a hello. I sure do, I said. The officer seemed a little disappointed, but there was something else there too, disdain. He tried to hide it when he looked at me, but I could tell I can always see it. You can hide a lot of things, but disdain that always drips through. Just checking. The cops said, you can never be too careful. Van Dyke stayed silent. He just walked up to me and
nodded before disappearing inside as quickly as he could. I said good night to the cop, but I knew we weren't done with people like that. They always want a little more, a little more control, and who knows where this will end up. Your friend, he didn't have a license on him, he said, his tone darkened. That's so, I replied, Oh, come on, man, right now, he explained, he'd have to call it in unless, believe me, I knew what was coming. That's the one thing I've noticed
right from the start. People are always on the take, that always want something unless, I repeated, Oh no, hell my sister, the cops said quietly. She's just the biggest fan of yours. Do you have something I can just to smooth this all over. I really don't want to call this in. I grabbed an autographed copy of Summer Days and Summer Nights and politely handed it to the officer. Give my regards to your sister, I said, before closing the door firmly enough to let him know I didn't
ever want to see him again. It's time to get out of this. I came through to the back of the house where Van Dyke was sitting looking shocked. You know, I began, it was kind of perfect that we met Johnny law tonight. I want to work on something, a track. It's called Heroes and villains. Maybe we can dedicate it to our cherry top. Van Dyke looked, did me and beamed one on five point four b R I A n F M. We're still broadcasting, and don't you forget it.
There are reports this morning of high pressure, high high pressure. Stay safe out there, have a great day. Van Dyke Parks was a big part of our album Smile. He'd go on to have a pretty interesting solo career too. He worked on the Bare Necessities Classic. He was quickly gaining a reputation in l A as a great songwriter, a different kind of songwriter. He came on board just as quickly for Smile. I kint him a check for five thousand dollars the night he came to my house.
That same night he had to run in with the cop help me, Van Dyke. He told me he wanted to get a car, so that was my down payment to him. He got a Volvo, a Volvo. He told me he wanted it because of his safety rating. I guess rock and roll, isn't it help me? Anonymous man? We pretty much wrote heroes and villains that night. It was real quick. I could feel the energy and the creativity. It impressed me. Van Dyke brought words to my songs
that matched the ambition of the music. I needed that these complex songs needed themes and ideas that were complex too. I liked what I had achieved on good Vibrations, and I wanted to do that more, but move on it even further. I continued that modular approach in the studio. Each song had sections like movements pop symphonics, I called them. I was excited about one song in particular, Cabanescence. Van
Dyke wrote some beautiful verses for that. It began with a section called Home on the Range, which featured a gentle banjo flute kind of sound, and then we moved to a part called who Ran the Iron Horse, which was like a tidal wave of sound. Then we finished with a section called grand Coolie Damn, where that tidal wave turns into a swirling whirlpool. I was proud of the music, no doubt, but I was as proud, no
as impressed with Van Dyke's words. I felt like we really had something, But all my excitement seemed to disappear in the studio. I don't know what it was about those Smile sessions, but they had a bit of opening black holes where everything was sucked in. When it came to recording Cabinescence, we had a repeat of what happened in the studio during pet Sounds. Different album, different songs, different lyricists, same problems. What does that tell you? It
was Mike Love of course, Okay, no more joke. When we were all in the studio to cut the vocals, he was once again standing in front of the microphone reading them through. I'm stuck in the microphone. I thought our work together on Good Vibrations would have meant this sort of thing wouldn't happen again. But I was wrong. Actually, maybe it was our work on that song that perpetuated this.
Maybe Mike felt like we've done something great as a pair on that song, and after I had just gone off and found someone else to work with while he was busy touring. Maybe that's it. Actually, that sounds like a good theory, because he directed as much anger at Van Dyke Parks as he did to me. He was muttering under his breath as he read the lines Uncover the Cornfield. However, the wheat I could tell he was
about to go off. Can anyone tell me what the fun this means, he shouted, It was a genuine question. We were all silent. It was so uncomfortable. God, it seemed to last forever. My brother Dennis looked at me in a kind of hopeless way. Let's get back to Only minutes before, he had given me a glowing review of Van Dyke's work on the songs he loved Heroes and Villains, as well as another song called surfs Up
favorite of mine too. I hoped Mike might like that one, at least, as it sounded a little more like the old Beach Boys in its lyrical form. But alas I was wrong. Carl excused himself from the room, sensing we're about to have another shooting match, and Al followed him out without a word. It was down to me, well, I said, we could ask the author of the material if you'd like Mike's side. Yes, yes, let's get the
author of the material, shall we, he said sarcastically. Man, So I went and grabbed Van Dyke for his interrogation. Almost instantly, Mike was towering over Van Dyke screaming at him. You're not hearing me, he was yelling, just tell me what the hell it means. That's all. As I stood watching them both, I couldn't believe that Mike was even more annoyed than when we'd had this argument. Van Dyke as a guy, was kind of small, well smaller than
Mike anyway. I think Mike felt like he could dominate him. But you know, Van Dyke held his own. If you're looking for a literal explanation of that line, of any line of verse, I don't have it, He explained, what's that? He don't know what it means. Mike laft, you wrote it and you don't know what it means. Fuck, we're all doomed, doomed, We're singing nonsense to each other over some whacked out music. This is what it's come to. I have no excuse, because I don't need one. Van
Dyke said, good for you. I thought. Mike shouted something about being pretentious and an acid head. Van Dyke just stood there, looking not particularly interested. Okay, when he realized his protests weren't going to get him anywhere, Mike stopped. Something changed in his face. Look, he said, just because I don't understand them doesn't mean I don't like them. I just think we should be writing more boy girls. Songs,
songs connected to people without hesitation. Van Dyke turned on his heels and walked straight past me out the door. He climbed into that vovo he bought with the five grand I gave him help me. I didn't see him again for months. I hope you're happy, I yelled at Mike. What are we gonna do now? Will sing some songs? That makes sense, he replied. I told him to smarten up, and I marched into the control room. Next time I
stood opposite Mike. Love in the studio was a couple of weeks later, when we were cutting the vocals for Heroes and Villains. It was supposed to be our next single, the song that would launch Smile, but it actually ended up becoming the song that would derail it. We'll be right back after this word word good morning. This is one or four point five b R I A N F M or anxiety less songs. We're sticking strictly to a playlist. No new material here, said, don't even try.
Don't even try to even Van Dyke came back. Of course he did, but it wasn't the same. It was the beginning of the end, and then after the end. There was nothingness, just nothingness, but that was all still a ways off at this point. Thankfully it took so long to get heroes and Villains right. I was trying to decide what version we should go with, as there were a few, a three minute cut, six minute version, one that ran for nine minutes. There was even an
eleven minute epic. I think it's all a bit hazy around that time, a bit hazy, but I'm sure I remember that being somewhere after that. All we had to do is release it. But like I said, it was our next single, and after the success of Good Vibrations, I knew we had to release it at the right time. It had to be right. If it wasn't right, if it wasn't perfect, well, the pressure would come back, and I couldn't stand that. You don't want to fall up
on your hands, Brian. You know I released You've Lost that Love and feeling and unchained Melody with the Righteous Brothers in that same year, the same year. It's almost taken you a year to record yours yours, Briant, HiT's our money. You're not going to make your old dad penniless, are you? Come on? Brian, release the song. The pressure was getting to me. I'll admit that it was a crucial time for Smile, crucial time for me, crucial for
the beach boys. It had to be perfect. The moment came when we were all at my place one night. We were sitting around smoking. It was late. Arnie Geller was there, so was Dennis and the record producer Terry Melcher. There was a loud knock at the door. I stared at it for a second. I could feel the bad news. It was the vibrations again, cops, my dad Mike, wanting to go another round. I didn't know what it was, but I didn't like it. I walked slowly over the door.
I stopped and took a breath. You can't be afraid of everything, Brian, I said to myself. I grabbed the handle, thrust it downwards and prayed for what was behind it relief. It was Genevelyn, my astrologer. I had known Genevelyn for a while. She was a real trust that voice for me at that time. I threw my arms around her. I told her I was picking up on something bad. I told her I was worried. You're right to be worried, she told me, it's time, Brian. Now we have to
do it now. Now, wasn't it too early? What would the record company say? Forget them? She said, it's time. I can feel it. It's time to get on with us. I was dazed, like I had just taken a hit. I knew Genevelyn was always right, and I didn't question her, not even for a second. But something wasn't right. I ignored that feeling. We need a radio station, I said to the room, time to get this all down. Genevelyn said we should head to one right away. After I
had cut her a check. She got little bonuses like that for moments of clarity. That's what we all them, moments where she would give me advice that I didn't know I needed it. I ran up the large curved staircase and went into my room. I saw it sitting there in the same spot it had been in for almost a month now. It was on a table by itself, directly under a light. Like the Crown jewels, it might as well have been behind glass. Before I picked it up,
I just stared at it. The deep black, shiny surface, crisp white cover, no art whatsoever, just blank. It looked hopeful possibilities were endless. I picked it up and flipped it over, and there were the words on the back Heroes and Villains, test pressing which time to get on with this? I almost salivated with excitement. I ran downstairs as everyone was already getting into the limos. Did I ever asked where to and I told him K H J A M. The excitement was palpable in the limo
as we raced down Hollywood Boulevard. At one point we passed Pickwick Books and I heard the notes of California girls buzz in my ears. I rubbed them quickly with irritation. Oh no, hell, you okay, Dennis asked me. I told him I was fine, which was a lie. Trying to forget it, I wound the window down and stuck my head out. I felt the wind rushed through my hair and heard the din of the city. But I also
heard something else, a very low, buzzing sound. I pretended it was because I had just rubbed my ears, but I knew what it was. It was the same thing I had heard on that canceled good vibration session, the same thing I'd heard when I was trying to burn the fire tapes. It was not good. All of a sudden we were at k h J A M. This is one of five point four b R I A n f L taking over k h J A M and blowing your mind. The guard at the front desk took one look at me and grinned, you're welcome anytime,
Mr Wilson. Soon we were all marching down the corridor like an invading army conquering a city. We were shouting, singing, and banging on the walls as we went. We're just having a fun here. We found our way to the main studio and I hammered on the glass. We gave the overnight DJ quite the shock. Tom Mall that was his name. I'll never forget his name or the way he looked at us when we arrived. I burst into the studio. Hi, I'm Brian Wilson. It's your lucky day.
He looks shocked. He couldn't even speak. Here's the new Beach Boys single, I told him, and I'd like to give you and k h J and exclusive on it. I didn't want to beat around the bush. I wanted to get this thing on the air as soon as poss like Jenevelyn said the time was right, okay. He sort of stalled and then said he'd have to check with his boss. Your boss, I yelled, this is the follow up to Good Vibrations, Man, one of the most important popular music songs of the last decade. This has
taken a year of work to create. You don't need your boss, you just need to play it. He apologized and told me he could call the station controller for guidance whatever. I told him, just just do it. I was stammering. I started to feel sick. I thought we'd missed the right time. I stood in that damn studio and watched Tom Maull make a call to his boss. I felt that low buzz rise and rise in my ears again. I couldn't believe it. The Beach Boys were one of the biggest groups of the moment, and we
were making music to rival everyone, even the Beatles. I'd spent so along perfecting every last second of this, and we wouldn't even get it played by some overnight DJ. Oh come on, man. My mind raced while the buzzing got louder and louder. Maul was talking so quickly into the studio's phone receiver. I couldn't take my eyes off him. It's not on the playlist, he was saying. And I heard the station controller scream from the other end of the phone. Just play at you, idiot. That was the
last thing I heard. Idiot was drowned out by the buzzing in my ears. It completely took over my head. My eyes began to close, and my legs felt weak. I stumbled and then fell into a rack of seven inch singles, still clutching mine. As I hit the floor, all I could see was Phil Spector's face. He was laughing at me. Brian Wilson sits alone in his bel Air mansion. The lights are off and the TV set plays static. He stares at it, the snow like gray
color lighting his face and accentuating his tired eyes. In his right hand as a phone receiver. The voice on the other end is that of his astrologer, Genevelyn. She informs her client it is not time. Brian slams the phone down on the receiver. When is it going to be time? He stands up and brings the seven inch test pressing of the Beach Boys unreleased new single Heroes
and Villains back to his bedroom for safe keeping. In a week's time, he'll dry if to the radio station kh J a M and present his latest work to the world. In the same month, the single will be deemed to flop in comparison to his previous hit Good Vibrations, But at least for tonight, Brian Wilson has other things on his mind. He's been putting something off. Tonight it has to happen. He walks to the kitchen, where he sees a large brown parcel inside or some tapes. Tapes
have been ruling Brian's life for a while now. But these tapes, they're not Beach Boys tapes. There's something else. He pulls open the parcel and tips the contents onto his counter. He reads the label Monterey International Pop Festival. The buzzing returns to Brian's ears as he carries the tapes to the studio he accustomed built in his home. Once inside, he draws a deep breath as he presses play.
Monterey Pop was where the Beach Boys planned to present Smile to the world, but only two weeks before the festival, the band pulled out. Brian had replayed in his head the phone call that he had with Derek Taylor, the Beatles press officer and Monterey Pop's organizer, so many times since it had happened some nights when he couldn't sleep and he'd given up on his songs, he actually re enacted the conversation to addict the phone. We can't play,
he told Derek Jesus Brian, why not. Brian rambled on about releasing Heroes and Villains, about how the Smile album was beyond repair, about how the band needed to think about what was next, and he was exhausted and it was just too much going on. Is that all? Derek asked. Brian paused in his mind. He saw the yellow and Pink Festival poster for the event. He scanned the names of the artists scheduled to play, and the name scared him. As he read each name, he felt a little stab
into his heart and stomach. The who Jimmie Hendrix, the Birds, Stab, Stab Stab. Derek broke the silence. He knew the Beach Boys felt out of place with the other performers on the bill, but Brian didn't need to worry. Just because they wore striped shirts didn't mean that has nothing to do with it. Brian shouted. His eyes were close tight. All he could see was Jimmie Hendricks thrilling the crowd, Pete Townsend smashing his guitar against the stage. Nothing you
hear me. The phone call was a month ago. Brian is still replaying it in his mind as he pressed his play on the tape machine in his bell Air home studio. He had a recording of the entire festival sent over to him as soon as it was over, but only now, and he worked up the courage to listen. As the sound of the crowd fades, Brian sits patiently and listens, says Simon and Garfuncles start their set only seconds in. He can't take it anymore. He jumps up
and pushes the tape along. He holds down the heavy fast forward button until it hurts his finger. He releases the button and he hears it. Jimmie Hendrix brings his song Third Stone from the Sun to a thundering clothes. Feedback swells from the speakers, and the crowd goes wild. Hendricks has just blown their minds. He's the breakout star
of the whole weekend. And the cheers are louder and louder, and the feedback squeals, and as Brian's pulse reaches maximum velocity, Hendrick shouts into the microphone, and You'll never hear surf music again. Brian's heart leaps. He jumps toward the tape machine and flicks the rewind button. Surely he misheard something where the voices in his head playing tricks on him? Was this a joke from someone at the festival, someone who overdubbed that line onto the tapes? Were they fucking
with him? He plays the section for a second time, and he hears it again, clearer this time. And You'll never hear surf music again. Brian falls into his chair. It's hard to breathe. He closes his eyes. He doesn't know it, but Hendricks was actually paying homage to the gravely ill surf guitar legend Dick Dale. Even if he did know that, it wouldn't matter, though in Brian's current state, no one could convince the otherwise. The damage was done, The die was cast. The blood was on the tracks.
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 Sadly. 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 Spraker. 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 This on Instagram at double Elvis and on Twitch at Graceland Talks, and you can talk to me per Usual on Instagram and Twitter at disgrace Land Pod, Rock and Roll, That Crazy, or dayd