The sad news of the passing of Brian Wilson came across my Sirius XM radio the other night. He was a vital voice in rock and roll, a seminal figure in both the music and the legend of rock, a man who made music like no other.
Years ago (in the late 90s) I was working with Nik Venet, the man who first produced the Beach Boys. Nik had fallen on hard times but still had the wit and energy to run a weekly songwriting seminar. I was one of the songwriters in his “inner circle” known as The Campfire Conspiracy. No, you’ve never heard of it. Nik went to another plane of existence before we could justify his faith in him. But that’s another story.
During the seminars, Nik would sometimes tell stories about Brian. For instance, when he received the royalty check from his first hit song, he showed the check to Nik and said “It’s $1200. I can get a good used car for that.”
“Brian,” Nik told him, “that’s one million, two hundred thousand dollars.”
“Oh,” Brian said. “I can get a really good car for that.”
Nik’s son, Nik Venet III, works for KNX radio and talked a bit about the day his father signed the beach boys.
In 1997, Nik Venet the elder had a birthday party at the Farmer’s Market on Fairfax. The buzz was that Brian would show, still being friends with Nik (unlike much of the rest of the music community).
It just so happens that a few months before I was playing with a band at the Special Olympics in LA . We went to the performer’s room to have a cup of coffee. Suddenly a commotion disturbed the room. In sailed a TV actress from a sitcom, along with her entourage of about 20 people. Had I wanted to talk to her–and I barely knew who she was–I couldn’t have gotten close to her. This actress is now largely forgotten.
So when I was told Brian Wilson would show at Nik’s birthday party, I braced for an invasion of his entourage.
I happened to be standing next to Nik when this guy came in wearing an open collar shirt and dark pants. He looked a little lost.
“Hello, Brian,” Nik said. “Glad you could make it.”
This was the great Brian Wilson. No entourage. No dark glasses. No attitude.
I talked with Brian a little, was even assigned to show him where the bathroom was, and (I am proud to say) I did not fawn over him, did not ask for his autograph, didn’t ask him to listen to my demo tape. We just talked.
He was a quiet guy, reserved, shy. But he was a nice guy and listened to me when I told him of my work with Nik.
I’ve always remembered how Brian did not try to take over the room, though, of course, everyone in the room wanted to talk to him. He was patient, kind. Stayed about an hour and listened to some of the songs from the group with appreciation and even made a comment or two on the pieces. Then he left, probably by taxi.
I compared him to the actress I’d seen at the Special Olympics. I realized that the great cultural figures in our world do not need to suck down attention. The great ones know they are great and are satisfied with what they’ve done, not what the world thinks of them.
And I’m sure that the whole time, a new piece of music was running through Brian’s head.
Mark Bruce, Writer 