AJOBO: What It’s Like to Interview Brian Wilson
I’ve been writing about and interviewing ’60s artists for about five years now. Okay, when I put it on paper, it doesn’t seem like a lot of time, but what I’ve lacked in calendar space, I’ve tried to make up for in opportunities and a stack of notebooks full of questions, both abandoned and answered. Also, considering that I’ve only been on this Earth for [number redacted — classified] years, that chunk of time doesn’t seem so insignificant.
People are always curious about what I do and who I’ve spoken with. Friends and family alike have polled me for concert advice, usually following it up with a few queries about my latest article here or there. (Yes, my dirty little secret: I do freelance for other publications, but only a select few that I cherish, like Goldmine magazine.) Personally, I don’t mind talking about my work; I feel really fortunate to be in the position to do what I do, and I oftentimes pinch myself and wonder, “How did I get here?” Sometimes I answer myself, “I have no idea.” So, I’m never bothered by people’s curiosity and happy to answer questions.
But, no matter what, the number-one question I’m always asked is, “What was it like to interview Brian Wilson?”
I understand it’s a form of morbid curiosity, because people never ask it in a flippant, how-was-your-day kind of way. It’s always semi-whispered, often accompanied with a head-tilt that implies a mixture of sympathy and chagrin. To be honest, I probably asked the same question in the same manner prior to talking to Brian, but since then, I’ve taken great relish in answering the inquiry with, “It was great! He’s a lovely guy and a pleasure to talk to.” (Which typically prompts a “Really?” Really.)
It’s not that Brian’s seen as some sort of tyrannical Beelzebub who hates interviews (see: Ginger Baker); he’s quite the opposite. No, the reason why there’s this biblical mystique built up around the Beach Boys’ figurehead and historically tormented songwriter is because he’s, well, sort of a mixed bag. A quick Google search will reveal complex, insightful interviews, where Brian regales the writer with tales from his childhood, songwriting revelations, and tidbits about his daily life. And others where it seemed to be a chore to pry one-word answers out of him. Not that those are bad interviews by any means — I’m of the school of thought that any interview with Brian is a good and important interview — but there’s a dissonance there. As a writer, those interviews, unsurprisingly, are the toughest.
Before I interviewed Brian Wilson for the first time in 2012 for a national print magazine cover story, a friend of mine who also managed Brian’s tours at one time warned me, “You never know what you’re going to get, so just be prepared for anything.” I swore that I was, but secretly, I prayed that he’d be in a talkative mood. I carefully prepared my questions, centered around the Beach Boys’ 50th reunion tour, staying up all night to write, rewrite, research, perfect, then throw it all out and start again. What made this interview twice as intimidating was that it wasn’t just going to be Brian and me on the call — I’d be interviewing Mike Love at the same time. Ah, now you can understand the staying-up-all-night part.
On the day of the interview, I phoned in right on time, joining Mike and Brian on a conference call. Trembling with nerves, I managed a confident, “Hello!” Mike answered in kind, and I waited anxiously as a beat skipped before Brian sprang to life with a “Hi, Allison!” Instantly, I relaxed and knew that I had the Brian I wanted. He was generous in his answers, direct with responses, and even funny, cracking one-liners that made me wonder if he even knew what he said was hysterical. And when I committed one of those most cardinal sins of interviewing by forgetting to record the conversation (did I mention I was still slightly green at this point, and this was the first in the string of interview with the five surviving Beach Boys?), I sheepishly asked if I could jump off and right back on the call, to which Mike answered with the verbal equivalent of a shrug, and Brian gave a cheery, “Sure, we’ll wait for you!”
When the call ended, I hung up and gave myself a mental high five. I did it! But, wait, what did I do, really? Sure, I quelled my nerves and successfully formed words in the presence of a musical god and one of my idols, but what I was really celebrating was the fact that I’d unnecessarily psyched myself up to the point where I was relieved, and maybe a little shocked, by a simple “hello” from the man. Which is as crazy as it sounds.
And that’s kind of the point. After I get asked what it’s like to interview Brian, the second reaction is always, “I could never do that! I’d be too nervous!” Why, beyond the aforementioned godlike reputation of Brian D. Wilson? Because you’ve believed media hype, and, yes, other writers who love to include in their profiles and interviews how “eccentric,” “distracted,” “short-answered,” even “bored” he seems. Here’s a hint: that’s called sensationalism. And yes, Brian can be a bit reserved, just like anyone on bad days and even good days when we feel less talkative. From where I’m standing, however, it’s the duty of the writer to always expect the “good Brian,” because there is no “bad Brian,” and black-and-white pigeon-holing does nothing for anyone and ends up killing a story.
So, what’s it like to interview Brian Wilson? It’s great. It’s amazing. It’s the coolest thing in the world to communicate in tandem with one of your heroes. It’s an immense privilege for me to say I’ve had the honor of speaking with him twice; our second interview will go live tomorrow on REBEAT. Is it intimidating? Sure. But it’s Brian Wilson. And no matter what he says or does or doesn’t feel like talking about, it’s okay. From that first “hello,” you know you’re in the company of a master.
Check back tomorrow for REBEAT’s exclusive interview with Brian Wilson and find out what he thinks of Love & Mercy, if he still enjoys being onstage, and how his ideal day might play out.
