Brian Wilson’s Last Moments and Musical Legacy

The last time I visited Brian Wilson was in March this year. Since the passing of his wife, Melinda, in 2024, I’ve been seeing him every few months. With Brian having stepped away from touring two years prior, he’s mostly embraced retirement. Our time together usually consisted of watching music documentaries and Lakers games, or simply unwinding in his backyard while his kids played in the pool or worked on homework inside. His beloved 12-year-old black poodle, Jet, kept him company, while a variety of other dogs watched from the kitchen, jealous of Jet’s attention. Every so often, Jet would drop his chew toy into Brian’s lap, prompting him to toss it across the room. Even at 82, Brian still had a strong throwing arm.

Occasionally, we would drive down to Malibu for seafood and milkshakes at Paradise Cove or grab Thai food at his favorite place on the PCH. Sometimes, we’d gather with his close friends for ribeye steaks and crème brûlée at Musso & Frank in Hollywood.

When I arrived today, he greeted me with, “Jason Fucking Fine, I can’t believe it!” and erupted in laughter. Brian appeared thin and pale, yet retained a youthful charm with his slicked-back silver hair and sparkling blue eyes. Having known him for nearly 30 years, I can attest that he’s not just a compelling subject to write about but also a kind-hearted, funny friend—one of the most sensitive people I know. I’ve never heard him speak ill of anyone, even those who mistreated or took advantage of him. He consistently works to make those around him feel comfortable. Not long ago, while leaving a hotel in New York City, an anxious fan entered the elevator. Brian gently reassured him, “Don’t worry, sir, we’re going to get you to the lobby safely.”

Brian has faced significant loss throughout his life—his parents, his brothers, his wife, and bandmates. When my own father passed, he offered me heartfelt advice: “As awful as it feels now, it may never get better. That’s how you know you loved him and he loved you, too. It keeps you connected.”

Initially, we planned to go for sushi, but the L.A. fires caused road closures and poor air quality; Brian suggested we stay in and “mellow out” with some tunes. He began calling out his favorite songs, starting with “Be My Baby” by the Ronettes—his ultimate pop song. He estimates he’s listened to it over 100,000 times since its release in 1963, yet he still sang along today as if it were his first experience. We enjoyed tracks from George Harrison, the Bee Gees, the Beach Boys, as well as classic rock hits from the Stones, Creedence, and Buddy Holly. Brian has long aspired to create an album of rock & roll covers, expressing hope that he still has it in him.

While listening, I recalled a previous conversation with him after a performance of his iconic album, Pet Sounds. He had stepped off stage before the final notes of “Caroline, No” and sunk into his recliner, looking despondent. “I hope they like my music, but I’ll never really know,” he reflected, even as the applause echoed nearby. It saddened me that despite crafting profoundly beautiful and uplifting music, he sometimes struggled to recognize its impact on people. When I brought this up again today, I asked if he realized his music offers others as much joy and comfort as “Be My Baby” brings him.

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

Brian Wilson’s Playlist