070908 Brian Wilson, Ottawa, ON

On July 9th, 2008 I arrived at the Ottawa Bluesfest too late to catch any of Kevin Breit and Harry Manx’s set, which was pretty much a tragedy.  I sure like that Harry Manx fellow and his slinky, buzzy Indian-inspired blues, and you know I love watching Kevin Breit play the guitar (and the mandocello, and the mandolin, etcetera).  Alas.  

I did, however, make it onsite in time for the very top of Brian Wilson’s set, which was also a bit tragic, if I may overstate things a little.  This was one of two Bluesfest seasons (I believe it was) where I gave up stage-hopping from artist to artist and promised myself I would stick around for full sets no matter what, so when I parked myself at the mainstage to watch the genius behind the Beach Boys I was in for the long haul.  Good thing too.

When Brian Wilson (1942-2025) started his set he sat on a stool in the middle of the stage looking dazed and confused while his band played on around him.  Sure, he sang when he had to sing (most of the time) but during the first few numbers Brian’s role was delegated mainly to adding his voice to the lush harmonies coming from the rest of the band.  It was rather troublesome.

Wilson’s mental problems were well known – the Barenaked Ladies basically launched their career by writing a super-catchy song about his struggles – and I started to think that maybe being out on tour wasn’t doing Wilson any favours.  He had a George Bush-like deer-in-the-headlights daze of bewilderment frozen on his face, reciting the right words at the right time but not looking at all like he knew what he was singing or why.  And then during Catch a Wave the power to the main speaker columns went out.  That was bad but what launched it to horrific was that the monitors continued working.  As a result Brian Wilson could hear himself just fine so he had no idea that the audience couldn’t hear a thing coming from the stage.  Of course this was the moment when he decided to address the crowd for the first time of the evening, going on and on about who-knows-what into his microphone while the crowd screamed back that the power was out.  The rousing cacophony coming from the audience just encouraged him to talk more…it was quite sad.

Under any other circumstances I would have bolted to any number of other stages by this time, but a promise is a promise.

I seem to recall that it took a couple of songs for the mains to come back on – which is quite incredible really – but by the time they did Brian had started to wake up a little and find his footing.  He started occasionally waving his arms about in classic Beach Boys fashion (it was surely muscle memory from thousands of shows gone by), talking to the crowd, and sounding like his old self.  These qualities were sporadic at first, but he gained more and more traction as the show went on.  Meanwhile the band played a string of tunes from Pet Sounds and some more monster hits that showed off Wilson’s remarkable melodic ability and his nearly unparalleled arrangement skills.  Truly, the guy is America’s Paul McCartney.  The version they did of Good Vibrations on this night was positively Beatlesque.

Just as they started into I Get Around the power to the speakers went out again, but the band was able to hip Brian to the scene this time so they stopped the show for a moment or two and ambled about the stage.  Soon enough the problem was fixed and by the time they re-launched back into the song to the happy screams of the audience Brian seemed to have shaken his cobwebs loose.

In fact, he got into such a groove that they ended the show with a convincing five-song encore, starting with a cover of Johnny B. Goode and including Fun, Fun, Fun, which pointed out to everyone that The Beach Boys basically lifted the song directly from Chuck Berry’s hit.  

The concert ended with a beautiful song from Wilson’s brand-new album, proving that the songwriter in him was still doing just fine.  Eventually my concern about what the road was doing to Brian’s mental stamina got turned around in perfect synch with Wilson’s demeanour during the show, and I finally concluded that it’s quite possible that touring was actually good for the man.  In the end I found it encouraging that he was well enough to put together such an entertaining show and eventually deliver what the fans wanted.  For years he was utterly unable to do that.

Good for him, good for us.  Ultimately it was a great show.

(I guess something really was amiss because the following day Brian Wilson’s management released a statement about his behaviour during the first half of the concert, brushing it off as exhaustion or some such malarkey.)