Speaker 1: Double Elvis. Blood on the Tracks is a production of
Speaker 1: I Heart Radio and Double Elvis. Brian Wilson was a
Speaker 1: musical genius and one of the greatest songwriters of all time.
Speaker 1: He caught melodies like they were waves. He bottled good
Speaker 1: vibrations like no one else, and he picked up bad
Speaker 1: vibrations too. He broke down, he tripped hard. He didn't
Speaker 1: just hear music, he heard voices. He tried to lose
Speaker 1: those voices by making a teenage symphony to God called Smile.
Speaker 1: But somewhere along the way, Brian Wilson lost his mind instead.
Speaker 1: This is his story. Rhonda Masson here once again. I
Speaker 1: can't believe we've come to the end of these Brian
Speaker 1: Wilson tapes and to the end of this project. All
Speaker 1: these final bits and pieces are from two thousand four.
Speaker 1: I think they're all video tapes from the album Brian
Speaker 1: Wilson Presents Smile, which of course is the resurrected version
Speaker 1: of the record he abandoned nearly forty years earlier. They're
Speaker 1: all pretty well cataloged and most contained material that ended
Speaker 1: up on the record. But there was one tape I
Speaker 1: found that has just been left. I'll play it for you.
Speaker 1: Now here we go. Okay, everyone, can you all hear
Speaker 1: me in there? Good? Let's try some take. I have
Speaker 1: some history with this. This song was a tough one,
Speaker 1: but we can get it. You can get it today.
Speaker 1: Sometimes history isn't a bad thing. History can make you wise,
Speaker 1: You can make you right your wrongs. Everything that is
Speaker 1: taking place in the past is a preparation for the
Speaker 1: opportunities to calm. You can change your future using your history.
Speaker 1: M don't be afraid of the song. Don't be afraid
Speaker 1: of the thinks you've heard about it. Don't be afraid
Speaker 1: of anything. We have to face stuff like this as
Speaker 1: songwriters and musicians, as people. Okay, fight Mrs o'larry's cow
Speaker 1: take one. Give me everything you've got on us. I
Speaker 1: want everybody's best shot. Let's get some blood on the tracks.
Speaker 1: Chapter ten. Brian Wilson was smiling again. Good morning, This
Speaker 1: is b r I a n FM, coming to you
Speaker 1: live from the temporal Lobe. It's another beautiful day out there.
Speaker 1: The sun is shining and the sea is warm. I
Speaker 1: wake up and it's early. Melinda is sleeping next to me.
Speaker 1: The kids are asleep too. It's the first day of
Speaker 1: the rest of my life. I can feel it. I've
Speaker 1: been playing it cool, but my mind has been whirling
Speaker 1: around and around. We Linda could tell. Last night. I
Speaker 1: think I was quiet, reserved, she said, But this morning
Speaker 1: I feel okay. No, I feel better than okay. There
Speaker 1: was my life before all this happened, and my life
Speaker 1: after it. Was it better before? Probably not? Will it
Speaker 1: be better after? I don't know. Maybe, but then again
Speaker 1: maybe not. It's hard to tell. With a mind like mine,
Speaker 1: you just never know. I've learned to play it by ear,
Speaker 1: like a good song to go with it all. I
Speaker 1: have some history with this. I've spent my whole life scared,
Speaker 1: my whole life under pressure from someone or something. I
Speaker 1: don't think that will ever go away. But you can
Speaker 1: manage it, you can deal with it. Don't be afraid.
Speaker 1: You can't stop a lot of things in this world,
Speaker 1: but you can live with them. Don't be afraid of anything.
Speaker 1: I walked softly down the back staircase and into the kitchen.
Speaker 1: There's three pills on the counter. I take my usual
Speaker 1: amount with a cool glass of water. I washed the glass,
Speaker 1: dry it and place it back in the cupboard. It's
Speaker 1: deadly quiet. I look at the clock on the wall,
Speaker 1: five nights a teen. I breathe out and muttered to myself,
Speaker 1: we'll be doing it in under five hours. We'll be
Speaker 1: in there. My mind pictures of control booth, the drum kit, microphone,
Speaker 1: then a fireman's hat. This song was a tough one.
Speaker 1: I swallow hard, then close my eyes. I breathe in,
Speaker 1: then out, in then out. I know where I'm going,
Speaker 1: I know what I want to do. It's strange how
Speaker 1: your body, or your mind or both gave you these
Speaker 1: little ideas, these little thoughts, that all of a sudden
Speaker 1: you have to carry out. Impulse, that's what it is.
Speaker 1: That's what I can feel. History can make you wise.
Speaker 1: I make my way to the back door, and as
Speaker 1: I do, I walk past the calendar on the wall.
Speaker 1: Today's date is circled and written there it says, warding
Speaker 1: day one. I don't dare look at it. I just
Speaker 1: keep walking outside. The sun is hot already. The bird's
Speaker 1: song fills my ears, and I closed my eyes as
Speaker 1: I walked down the perfectly manicured grass. I'm barefoot and
Speaker 1: it feels like carpet under my toes. I thought i'd
Speaker 1: feel worse than this. I'm worried. This is just the
Speaker 1: calm before the storm. I've seen that before, I felt
Speaker 1: like that before, but I have to admit this time
Speaker 1: it does feel different. Don't be afraid of the song. Finally,
Speaker 1: the feeling of grass under my feet gives way to
Speaker 1: the feeling of sand. It's cool and soft. I stopped
Speaker 1: and dig my feet into it. It's reassuring, like a
Speaker 1: heavy blanket or a cup of cocoa. I stopped and
Speaker 1: stare at the horizon where the Pacific Ocean meets the sky.
Speaker 1: There's no one else around. The light ances off the water,
Speaker 1: and there's a light breeze that drifts around me. Everything
Speaker 1: feels calm, settled, like there's no more worry shows all over.
Speaker 1: Everything has happened, like watching an old movie you love
Speaker 1: or hearing an old song. Don't be afraid of the
Speaker 1: thinks you've heard about it. I'm not really going to
Speaker 1: do this, am I? I think to myself. I feel nervous.
Speaker 1: How could I not? But I feel happy too. I
Speaker 1: waste a bit of time looking up and down the beach.
Speaker 1: Then I mutter, okay, come on, Brian. Smile was once
Speaker 1: again appearing in my mind. More and more, and this feeling.
Speaker 1: This idea just grew and grew with it. I walk
Speaker 1: up the beach and begin to slowly climb up the
Speaker 1: rocks on the far side. I go right up to
Speaker 1: the top. When I get there, I'm panting. I stand
Speaker 1: and look at the whole beach. You can see it
Speaker 1: all from up there. It's like I'm on top of
Speaker 1: the world. History can make you wise. I looked down
Speaker 1: and see the ocean lapping at the rocks below. Without
Speaker 1: a second thought, I grabbed the shirt and wearing pull
Speaker 1: it off. I take two steps back and jump as
Speaker 1: high as I can. You can change your future using
Speaker 1: your history. I feel like I'm dancing in the air.
Speaker 1: It's just me, the son above and the Pacific below.
Speaker 1: I closed my eyes as I plumb it down at
Speaker 1: an almost violent speed, but as I do, the silence
Speaker 1: of the morning is broken. I hear someone above me screaming, Brian.
Speaker 1: I try to look up, but it's already too late.
Speaker 1: The water crashes around my body. It engulfs me entirely.
Speaker 1: It's cold and dark and be silent as I shoot
Speaker 1: down further into it. After a few seconds, I stopped
Speaker 1: and hang there, suspend it in time, completely alone. Completely still.
Speaker 1: Then I a shop further and further, higher and higher.
Speaker 1: I'm like a shooting star streaming across the sky. A
Speaker 1: light starts to appear up above. I put my hand
Speaker 1: out and reach for it. Any second I'll touch it,
Speaker 1: that welcoming, warm light. I make a grab for it
Speaker 1: and crash out of the water and back into reality.
Speaker 1: I gulp in deep breaths and feel the sun on
Speaker 1: my face again. Give me everything, everything, everything, Who I shout?
Speaker 1: I feel alive, like I've just shed my skin or something.
Speaker 1: Give me everything you've got. I look up and see
Speaker 1: who had screamed my name only moments earlier. I see
Speaker 1: her straight away. It's Melinda, shouting some more as she
Speaker 1: sprints into the ocean, still in her pajamas. Brian, She's shouting,
Speaker 1: what the hell are you doing? She's gasping for breath
Speaker 1: as the water splashes all around her, and then she
Speaker 1: dives in and swim ms with the speed of an
Speaker 1: Olympian towards me. When she reaches me, she asks what
Speaker 1: the fund is going on? I felt like a swim
Speaker 1: I tell her, don't be afraid. You haven't been in
Speaker 1: the sea in forty years, and now you feel like
Speaker 1: a swim. Her anger turns to laughter in less time
Speaker 1: than it takes for her to complete the sentence, and
Speaker 1: then she throws her arms around me and tells me
Speaker 1: we should get dry. Just do one more thing for me,
Speaker 1: I ask. A smile creeps across my face. Five minutes later,
Speaker 1: we're both on top of the rocks. My shirt is
Speaker 1: where I left it, okay. After three, she shouts one, two, three,
Speaker 1: Then we both jump the sky above us, the ocean below,
Speaker 1: and freedom all around. Good morning from a chili London town.
Speaker 1: This is b R I, a n f M, broadcasting
Speaker 1: to you from the English capital. Watch out for those
Speaker 1: showers out there. They can be alarming. Sometimes I opened
Speaker 1: doors in here, you know, inside my mind, and I
Speaker 1: can't bear to look behind them, but I do it anyway.
Speaker 1: I don't know why. Sometimes they're almost impossible to close.
Speaker 1: You unlock memories, thoughts or feelings, and they're too much
Speaker 1: to take. Can you all hear me in there? But
Speaker 1: sometimes you can look back on something and get closure.
Speaker 1: Sometimes history isn't a bad thing. Sometimes you can find redemption,
Speaker 1: but you have to find it for yourself. No one
Speaker 1: is going to give it to you. You can't find
Speaker 1: it in a movie or a song. You can only
Speaker 1: find it inside yourself. Sure, someone else can bring it
Speaker 1: out of you, they can help you get there, but
Speaker 1: in the end, you're the one that has to find
Speaker 1: it and grab it. You can change your future using
Speaker 1: your history. I guess what I'm trying to say is
Speaker 1: I knew I had to forgive myself. That was the
Speaker 1: only way out. After standing at the side of the
Speaker 1: stage at Radio City Music Hall with Elton John, watching
Speaker 1: George Martin speak so positively about me, and then later
Speaker 1: spontaneously playing heroes and villains at Scott Bennett's house, I
Speaker 1: felt like my relationship with Smile was turning, turning into
Speaker 1: something less negative. Welinda had encouraged that too, So in
Speaker 1: the summer of two thousand four, I went to the
Speaker 1: studio and we recut it. We redid the whole album
Speaker 1: from scratch. Was I nervous? God, I was terrified. But
Speaker 1: it wasn't that simple. It took time. Things had to
Speaker 1: happen before we got there. First, I included a couple
Speaker 1: of Smile songs in my regular set list when touring.
Speaker 1: Don't be afraid of this song. Then we had the
Speaker 1: idea to perform a live show, Smile in its entirety live.
Speaker 1: We decided on London. I have often said that that
Speaker 1: city is my spiritual home. I love it there, I
Speaker 1: have some history. So there I was standing in the
Speaker 1: large auditorium at the Royal Festival Hall. It was winter
Speaker 1: and it was cold outside, but the hall was right
Speaker 1: on the water, right on the Thames. It felt like
Speaker 1: it fits Smile somehow, the closeness of the water. I
Speaker 1: kept singing this song by three Dog Night. Easy to
Speaker 1: be hard, That's what this whole experience was like. It's
Speaker 1: been hard, but it's been easy. It's easy to say
Speaker 1: yes to do some shows, getting on a plane to rehearsing,
Speaker 1: but it's hard to actually walk out on stage on
Speaker 1: the night. Are you ready? Asked Darian Sahanaja Darien is
Speaker 1: in my band. He was in the Wonderments too. If
Speaker 1: you know my story, you know we're connected. I told
Speaker 1: him I was ready to go, and we walked to
Speaker 1: the stage for the rehearsal. We have to face stuff
Speaker 1: like this. That's when it started. The noise was deafening,
Speaker 1: A wailing fire alarm sounded. Its presence was so large,
Speaker 1: but it was invisible to your eyes, so a brain
Speaker 1: has trouble with it. I turned to Darien and shouted,
Speaker 1: it's fate. He's mild, but he could tell I was
Speaker 1: nervous history with this. They eventually shut it off. The
Speaker 1: stage manager Philip apologized profusely in the way only the
Speaker 1: British can. He told us the system was only a
Speaker 1: few years old and had never done this before. Okay,
Speaker 1: we're fine, no problem. Ten minutes later, I was on
Speaker 1: stage as Darian counted us in on heroes and villains. Okay, one, two, three,
Speaker 1: he yelled, but the number four was drowned out. It
Speaker 1: was the fire alarm again. This song was a tough one,
Speaker 1: so loud it rattled my chest. I looked over at Darien.
Speaker 1: I'm sure he could tell I was getting nervous. They
Speaker 1: finally shut it off again, but now there was this
Speaker 1: tension in the room. Can you'll hear me in there?
Speaker 1: Fifteen minutes later, after a few uninterrupted songs, Darian shouted
Speaker 1: out to the band that we were ready to do
Speaker 1: this is a larious cow. I sat behind the piano.
Speaker 1: You know it would be funny, I said if the
Speaker 1: alarm went off during But my words were cut short
Speaker 1: as that loud noise returned to the hall. Everyone froze
Speaker 1: and exchanged awkward glances. The stage manager was back and
Speaker 1: apologizing once again. He told us to take five while
Speaker 1: they worked it out. Darien glanced at his watch. Well
Speaker 1: he knew we were running out of time everything that
Speaker 1: is taking place. He was passed. He followed me to
Speaker 1: my dressing room, where I sat with Melinda. Look, he said,
Speaker 1: I'm getting worried. It's one thing to rehearse in our
Speaker 1: normal space, but we need time in this room, especially
Speaker 1: for a gig of this magnitude. There was an uneasy silence.
Speaker 1: We can't cancel, Melinda responded, we might have to postpone,
Speaker 1: Darian said, taking place in the past and now their
Speaker 1: uneasy pause. The tension was building in that room. I
Speaker 1: sat in silence while the other two looked exasperated. That
Speaker 1: exasperation turned to angers yet again, the alarm went off.
Speaker 1: It was even louder backstage. Jesus Christ. Melinda shouted, but
Speaker 1: then she stopped and looked at her watch. It had
Speaker 1: been exactly fifteen minutes since the last alarm. She took
Speaker 1: a look at me. She stared right at me intensely.
Speaker 1: Then she shook her head and marched out of the room,
Speaker 1: slamming the door behind her. Moments later, the alarm stopped.
Speaker 1: You can change your future. Then Melinda reappeared with Joey,
Speaker 1: one of our roadies. She was angry, Brian, She barked, Ship,
Speaker 1: can you tell me and Darian what Joey is being
Speaker 1: paid to do today? Joey's eyes were wide, even wider
Speaker 1: than when I offered him a thousand bucks that morning
Speaker 1: to find out where the alarm test system was for
Speaker 1: the Royal Festival Hall. Don't be afraid to be a roadie,
Speaker 1: I said, tentatively, But the game was up. I sheepishly
Speaker 1: explained that I paid Joey to set the alarm off
Speaker 1: every fifteen minutes during rehearsal. Everyone out. She shouted at
Speaker 1: the room, and then looked at me and said, not
Speaker 1: you don't be afraid. Once we were alone, she was soft,
Speaker 1: kind and encouraging. She told me that if I didn't
Speaker 1: want to do the gig, I should have just said so.
Speaker 1: I explained that I did want to do the gig,
Speaker 1: but that I was scared. Don't be afraid. I was
Speaker 1: worried how it would all go. I held her hand
Speaker 1: and I didn't want to let go. Do you remember
Speaker 1: this morning? She smiled the sea? How long was it?
Speaker 1: Forty years? I remembered the water, how it felt, the
Speaker 1: early morning sun. On that feeling of calm control. I
Speaker 1: took a deep breath and I looked into Melinda's eyes.
Speaker 1: I was ready, actually ready this time. That evening, I
Speaker 1: was on stage in front of a packed crowd. My
Speaker 1: band was singing our prayer. Right at the start of
Speaker 1: the show. The lights were down low. You could hear
Speaker 1: a pin drop. Let's try to take it. There was
Speaker 1: a brief silence when we finished singing, and then the
Speaker 1: snare hit like a starting pistol, and we launched into
Speaker 1: Heroes and Villains, Give me everything you've got. The stage
Speaker 1: lights burst into radiant, bright white light. I could feel
Speaker 1: it on my skin, like the sun in the middle
Speaker 1: of summer, warm and forgiving. I always hated being on stage,
Speaker 1: but tonight I felt like I was in my old
Speaker 1: chair at home. As I looked up during the first
Speaker 1: few lines of the song, for just for a second,
Speaker 1: I thought I saw my dad and Phil Spector. They
Speaker 1: looked happy for me. Don't be afraid of anything. I
Speaker 1: stared at their big grins, and their big eyes. I
Speaker 1: blinked in the bright light. When I look back, they
Speaker 1: were gone. We'll be right back after this we were
Speaker 1: after the show at the Royal Festival Hall. We kept
Speaker 1: touring the album No fire alarms. This time it was
Speaker 1: the success, reviews, sales, all of it arousing success. I
Speaker 1: felt like a chapter of my life for perhaps the
Speaker 1: chapter of my life was coming to an end. History
Speaker 1: can make you wise, but it wasn't over. Melinda Darien
Speaker 1: and a record producer named Mark Lynette, we're all trying
Speaker 1: to convince me to record a new version of Smile,
Speaker 1: the one we were performing on stage. It took me
Speaker 1: two weeks to give them an answer. We went into
Speaker 1: the studio in April two thousand four, Sunset Sound to
Speaker 1: begin with. That was one of the studios we cut
Speaker 1: the original Smile in when they suggested that place actually shuttered.
Speaker 1: But like with the show or going into the Ocean,
Speaker 1: I wanted to face things head on, to stand up
Speaker 1: for once, to confront the fear you can change your
Speaker 1: future using your history. So we went in. Sometimes being
Speaker 1: afraid is like bordering on excitement. It's good scary. We
Speaker 1: have to face stuff like this, like Smile had gone
Speaker 1: from scary scary to good scary. But with everything that
Speaker 1: had happened between me and that project, it was bound
Speaker 1: to be hard in places, and this song was a
Speaker 1: tough one. At Sunset Sound, Darien and Mark had assembled
Speaker 1: a ten piece band. Most of the guys had been
Speaker 1: on stage at the Royal Festival Hall that first night.
Speaker 1: They could both tell I was nervous. I couldn't even
Speaker 1: hold a glass of water in my hand without shaking. Brian,
Speaker 1: They asked me, are you sure you want to record
Speaker 1: this song today? I nodded, yeah, I was sure. Head on,
Speaker 1: give me everything you've got. You've got. The song we
Speaker 1: were due to record was Mrs O'Leary's Cow, otherwise known
Speaker 1: as Fire. My mind rewound through flickering images of burning
Speaker 1: tapes and l a fires. I looked down at the
Speaker 1: chair I was sitting and saw that my hand was
Speaker 1: gripped so tightly around the arm that my knuckles were
Speaker 1: completely white. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe,
Speaker 1: but all I could think about was that session, back
Speaker 1: in the session that broke Smile, the session that broke me.
Speaker 1: The fire, fire everywhere, just burning everything, burning, Chicago, burning,
Speaker 1: Los Angeles, Brian came Mark's voice. Are you okay, okay,
Speaker 1: I'm fine, I stuttered, Let's go. The moment I stepped
Speaker 1: inside the studio room, I could feel it, the heat,
Speaker 1: don't be afraid. Then I could smell it. I thought
Speaker 1: it was a joke, someone was playing on me. At
Speaker 1: first I could smell smoke. Don't be afraid. I turned
Speaker 1: around and saw the cello player and smoking. What the
Speaker 1: hell are you doing, I asked. She laughed and took
Speaker 1: another puff. Darian asked me what was wrong. I spun
Speaker 1: around to look at him and saw he was wearing
Speaker 1: a plastic fireman's hat. Don't be afraid of the thinks
Speaker 1: you've heard about it. My froze. Then the other string
Speaker 1: players pulled out pieces of wood and started to chant
Speaker 1: burn it all down, Burn it all down. I looked
Speaker 1: for the window to see if Mark was still in
Speaker 1: the recording booth, but I couldn't see him in there.
Speaker 1: The whole room was full of smoke, just this glass
Speaker 1: box of smoke was so thick you couldn't see anything.
Speaker 1: Then the smoke spilled out between the edges of the
Speaker 1: glass and into the studio, thicker and thicker. I fell
Speaker 1: to my knees and crawled forward. I shouted at Darian
Speaker 1: to get down out of the smoke, but he was silent.
Speaker 1: Don't be afraid of the song. The chant was getting louder.
Speaker 1: Now burn it all down, burn it all down. It
Speaker 1: was all I could hear. I crawled into the smoke,
Speaker 1: praying for a way out. I gasped for air as
Speaker 1: sweat began to drip down my face. Then I tasted
Speaker 1: it in my mouth. It was salty and hot. I
Speaker 1: tried to bit it out, but it seemed to only
Speaker 1: get worse. Can you hear me in there? My mouth
Speaker 1: was full of sweat. I tried to get rid of it,
Speaker 1: but it was like a constant stream, as if someone
Speaker 1: had put an ocean in my mouth. And now it
Speaker 1: was spilling out sweat everywhere. I was coughing. The smoke
Speaker 1: and the spit made it unable to breathe. I thought
Speaker 1: that was it. I thought I was going to be
Speaker 1: seeing Elvis soon. Don't be afraid. But then I saw
Speaker 1: a tiny light to the left of me. I made
Speaker 1: for it, crawling on my knees like a child. The
Speaker 1: light got bigger and bigger. Then I saw what it
Speaker 1: actually was. It was the door, Darian, I shouted, I
Speaker 1: found a way out. Nothing, no reply. I pushed the door.
Speaker 1: At first it didn't budge, but I pushed harder, and
Speaker 1: after spitting that salty liquid from my mouth, I gave
Speaker 1: it a final shove with all my strength and it
Speaker 1: burst open. Don't be afraid of anything. I crashed through
Speaker 1: it and out into the parking lot. I opened my
Speaker 1: eyes and looked up Melndo standing in front of me.
Speaker 1: Her dress burst into flames, and then the flames spread
Speaker 1: to her hair, her face, and within seconds she was
Speaker 1: reduced to ashes in front of me. I screamed as
Speaker 1: the building behind her burst into flames too. The fire
Speaker 1: roared and roared, and then Brian came Mark's voice, are
Speaker 1: you okay? Okay? My eyes open. I was back back
Speaker 1: from being in here lost. I was in the control
Speaker 1: booth at sunset sound. My eyes widened as I readjusted
Speaker 1: to the light. You looked like you were lost for
Speaker 1: a minute, he said, I'm fine. I said, let's go.
Speaker 1: We were did fire there and then all done and
Speaker 1: dusted very quickly. No Hollywood, theatrics. We just cut the track.
Speaker 1: That's what the whole album was like. In two thousand four.
Speaker 1: It only took us a couple of weeks to actually
Speaker 1: record a few more to mix, but the recording was
Speaker 1: pretty straight down the line. After we cut the song
Speaker 1: that day, everyone was heading home and I was a
Speaker 1: left alone in the studio. Darien came in and thanked
Speaker 1: me for the day. Can I have the song on CD?
Speaker 1: I asked, Right now? He asked. I nodded, okay, no problem.
Speaker 1: I can just burn you one, he said, and then
Speaker 1: started clicking the mouse on his computer. My legs started
Speaker 1: to shake and anticipation. I wanted to hold it, to
Speaker 1: have Smile in my hands, to know that it physically
Speaker 1: existed in the world. He handed it to me. The
Speaker 1: plastic was warm, shiny. I stared at it, my face
Speaker 1: distorted in the reflection. Can I have a moment? I
Speaker 1: asked him. Of course, he responded, and then I was
Speaker 1: left alone again. I took the CD and held it
Speaker 1: to my chest. I was trembling. Then I cried. I
Speaker 1: cried and cried and cried. I cried for Smile. I
Speaker 1: cried for Dennis and Carl. I cried for my dad,
Speaker 1: and I cried for Phil Specter. But most of all,
Speaker 1: I cried for me. Sixty three am. That's when it starts.
Speaker 1: The ticking clock. That's when the countdown begins. In truth,
Speaker 1: it's been counting down for days, but he's been ignoring it.
Speaker 1: Coping mechanisms can help you do that, but sooner or
Speaker 1: later you have to face it. Sooner or later you
Speaker 1: have to jump in. Brian Wilson gets up in the
Speaker 1: pale morning light and sits hunched over on the edge
Speaker 1: of his bed. Fourteen hours to go. Downstairs, he examined
Speaker 1: some newspapers still left on the countertop from a few
Speaker 1: weeks back. One shows an image of George W. Bush
Speaker 1: becoming the President of the United States for the second time.
Speaker 1: Brian starts to name the presidents in his head, anything
Speaker 1: to forget about what he's doing today. Thirteen hours to go.
Speaker 1: Brian's wife, Melinda, walks into the room and smiles. Have
Speaker 1: you decided yet, she asked. Carter Reagan Bush, Clint Brian
Speaker 1: hear me. Brian looks up. I haven't decided, he replies.
Speaker 1: He checks his watch. Twelve hours fifty eight minutes to go.
Speaker 1: The day drags. It's slow and vacant. Brian can barely
Speaker 1: call it a day at all, since he's spending it,
Speaker 1: waiting for what's going to happen. When the evening finally
Speaker 1: ambles into view, Brian stands in front of the full
Speaker 1: length mirror on the inside of his bedroom wardrobe door.
Speaker 1: He's wearing a jet black tom Ford tucks, but that's
Speaker 1: not what he's looking at. He's staring right into his
Speaker 1: own eyes. And the voices appear again, and they drift
Speaker 1: in and out. You're a genius, yet this is your
Speaker 1: first Grammy nomination. Phil Specter had four Imagine if you
Speaker 1: don't win Wind. He slams the door shut. His reflection
Speaker 1: is gone, and so are the voices. He makes his
Speaker 1: way downstairs. Two hours and thirty four minutes to go.
Speaker 1: He gets to the Staples Center early, but in his mind,
Speaker 1: he's not present at all. As he knew is his
Speaker 1: dressing room. He's stopped by one of the Grammy's producers.
Speaker 1: Had Brian decided on the song? Who's going to perform?
Speaker 1: Yet Brian responds by muttering something about good vibrations and
Speaker 1: then something about fire, and then Brian has left the conversation.
Speaker 1: The door slams behind him as he walks into his
Speaker 1: dressing room. One hour and fifty eight minutes left. To
Speaker 1: go inside the dressing room. Brian sits in the corner
Speaker 1: with his little portable radio. The golden oldies coming from
Speaker 1: the small speaker give him comfort. He closes his eyes
Speaker 1: and listens. We have to decide the song, Brian finally says.
Speaker 1: Brian shuffles in his seat. He wasn't ready yet, Brian,
Speaker 1: She shouts, please, this is a simple choice. It's just
Speaker 1: one song or the other. I think it should be
Speaker 1: good vibrations, but it doesn't really matter. Belinda's patience is
Speaker 1: waning as she watches her husband ignore. Brian make a
Speaker 1: fucking decision nothing, Brian, She screams, The funk is the problem.
Speaker 1: The problem. Brian breaks his silence. The problem is that
Speaker 1: he's been trying to prove himself for all these years,
Speaker 1: to these people, to himself, to his old man, trying
Speaker 1: to prove that he's as good as Phil Specter or
Speaker 1: Mike or any fucking one. And this, this here, now,
Speaker 1: this is the end of it all. Smile. How long
Speaker 1: has he been thinking about this thing? How long has
Speaker 1: it dominated his life? And now the record is out,
Speaker 1: it's done, and what he's just supposed to say goodbye?
Speaker 1: Melinda throws her arms around Brian as the tears well
Speaker 1: up under his eyes. At that moment, the dressing room
Speaker 1: door opens. It's the producer of the show again, the
Speaker 1: one they saw in the hallway. Brian turns to her
Speaker 1: and breathlessly tells her that they're going to play fire,
Speaker 1: not good vibrations, and there's thirty four minutes to go.
Speaker 1: Brian and Melinda are taken to their seats, where Brian
Speaker 1: watches Queen Latifa introduced the show. He looks around the crowd.
Speaker 1: There are faces he half recognizes, Usher, Kanye West, Jennifer Lopez.
Speaker 1: They all make him feel out of place. He's too
Speaker 1: old for this. He's a dinosaur. He just wasn't made
Speaker 1: for these times and he should leave straight away. He
Speaker 1: gets up to go, but Melinda drags him back down.
Speaker 1: Three minutes to go. Brian's heart pumps quickly, his lips dry.
Speaker 1: He starts to fiddle with his tucks. Queen Latifa announces
Speaker 1: the next award is for Best Rock Instrumental Performance and
Speaker 1: Jeff Beck is here to present it. Brian's head starts
Speaker 1: to spin. Jeff Beck strolls under the stage, waving. Wilson
Speaker 1: feels like the room is rumbling beneath him, and this
Speaker 1: is it. This is a success or failure, a happy
Speaker 1: ending or another bitter conclusion. Thirty seconds to go, okay,
Speaker 1: Jeff Beck says into the small microphone. Twenty seconds the
Speaker 1: winner of Best Rock Instrumental Performance. Ten seconds he fiddles
Speaker 1: with the envelope. Brian watches and screams internally, open it,
Speaker 1: just sucking open it. Five seconds, four is three? Wow,
Speaker 1: okay too, It's one. Everything stops. Brian is still. He
Speaker 1: knows the winner, Jeff Beck says, is Brian Wilson with
Speaker 1: fire Mrs O'Leary's cow. The crowd screams, Brian's heart leaps
Speaker 1: up in his chest. Whilenda squeezes his hand and then
Speaker 1: pulls him in close. As Brian makes his way to
Speaker 1: the stage, he bathed and incandescent light and finally it's over.
Speaker 1: Thirty minutes later, Brian Wilson is back in his dressing
Speaker 1: room with his radio on alone. He's got a few
Speaker 1: minutes before he's needed on stage to perform his Grammy
Speaker 1: winning song. He listens to the crack the old FM sound,
Speaker 1: and then he reaches over to the dial and turns
Speaker 1: it off for the first time in a long time,
Speaker 1: there is nothing, no talking, no music, no static, and
Speaker 1: for the briefest of moments, there's silence from all the
Speaker 1: Blood on the Tracks. Mr. Blood on the Tracks produced
Speaker 1: by Double Elvis in partnership with I Heart Radio. It's
Speaker 1: hosted an executive produced by me Jake Brennan, also executive
Speaker 1: produced by Brady Sather. Zeth Lundie is lead editor and producer.
Speaker 1: This episode was written by Ben Burrow, mixing and sound
Speaker 1: designed by Colin Fleming. Additional music and score elements by
Speaker 1: Ryan Spraaker. This season features Chris Anzaloni is the voice
Speaker 1: of Brian Wilson. Sources for this episode are available at
Speaker 1: Double Elvis dot com on the Blood in the Tracks
Speaker 1: series page, follow Double Elvis on Instagram at double Elvis
Speaker 1: and on Twitch at Grace and Talks, and you can
Speaker 1: talk to me per Usual on Instagram and Twitter at
Speaker 1: Disgrace Land, Pod, Rock and Roll, Dytegrages our dand