Brian Wilson’s Last Playlist

The last time I saw Brian Wilson was in March of this year. I’d been going to visit him every few months or so since his wife, Melinda, died in 2024. Brian had quit touring two years earlier, so he was pretty much in retirement mode. We spent time watching music documentaries and Lakers games or relaxing in his backyard, while his kids swam in the pool or did homework at the kitchen table. His favorite dog, an arthritic 12-year-old black poodle named Jet, would hang by his side, while a menagerie of other dogs barked jealously from the kitchen. Every few minutes, Jet dropped his chew toy in Brian’s lap. Brian, a star athlete in high school who dreamed of playing center field for the New York Yankees before getting “sidetracked” by the music business, would toss the chew toy over and over across the room — at 82, he still had a natural arm.

Some days, we took drives down to Malibu for seafood and milkshakes at Paradise Cove, or Thai food at his favorite spot on PCH. Or we’d gather a group of Brian’s close friends for a dinner of ribeye steaks and crème brûlée at Musso & Frank in Hollywood.

Today, when I arrived, he shouted gleefully, “Jason Fucking Fine, I can’t believe it!” then burst into laughter. He looked gaunt and pale but still boyish, his silver hair slicked back and his clear blue eyes shining. I’ve known Brian for close to 30 years, and to me he’s not just been a fascinating subject to write about — he’s been a caring and hilarious friend, and one of the most kind and sensitive people I’ve ever known. I’ve never heard Brian utter a single negative word about anyone (even people who took advantage of him or abused him), and he always goes out of his way to put friends and even strangers at ease. Not long ago, we were leaving a hotel in New York City, and the elevator stopped at a lower floor. A man got in, gasped at the sight of Brian Wilson (even in his eighties, Brian was recognized everywhere we went), and looked visibly nervous as we descended. Brian gently put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, sir,” he reassured him. “We’re going to get you to the lobby safely.”

Brian has endured enormous loss — his mom and dad, his two brothers, his wife, members of his band. When my own father died, he called me. “I gotta give you some advice, and it’s not going to be easy to hear,” he said. “As bad as it feels now, it’s never gonna get better. That’s how you know you love him and he loves you too. That’s how you stay connected.”

We’d planned to go out for sushi, but the L.A. fires had closed roads all over the city and the air quality was low, so Brian asked if we could “mellow out” at home and “boot up some tunes.” Brian called out the songs he wanted to hear, starting with “Be My Baby,” the Ronettes hit that to Brian is the pinnacle of all pop music. He estimates he’s listened to the song “at least 100,000 times” since it was released in 1963, yet watching him grin and sing his own harmonies through the song today, it might as well be the first time. We listened to George Harrison, the Bee Gees, Beach Boys deep cuts, and a batch of his favorite rock & roll songs by the Stones, Creedence, and Buddy Holly. Brian had long dreamed of making an album of rock & roll covers. “I hope I’ve still got it in me,” he said.

As we listened, I remembered a conversation with Brian a few years ago. He’d just come off stage in L.A. after performing his most famous album, Pet Sounds — actually, he had shuffled off stage about 45 seconds before the final notes of the final song, “Caroline, No,” and sunk heavily into his black recliner at the side of the stage. “I hope they like my music, but I’ll never really know,” he said, looking dejected, despite the roar of the crowd just on the other side of the curtain.

It troubled me that, despite creating some of the most beautiful and life-affirming music the world has ever heard, Brian didn’t always recognize how much it means to people. I brought it up again today, and asked if he sensed that his own music gives people as much joy and solace as “Be My Baby” gives him.

“I know people dig my music, Jason,” he said. “It gives off a lot of hope and a lot of love. People need more positive vibrations in their lives, just like I do.”

Brian Wilson’s playlist