What could be better than hearing “Good Vibrations” on a hot summer night in America’s premier outdoor concert venue?

Hearing “California Girls” for the very first time?

“I Get Around” hooked me. I was an avid bowler. I lived to knock down the pins. I was in a league on Saturday and every Friday Mr. Conley took our sixth grade class to the lanes. Two strings were de rigueur, on Saturdays sometimes I bowled a third, at thirty five cents, before automated scoring, when you were actively involved even if you weren’t mowing down the pins yourself, using that big black marker to write down the totals, something seemingly most people were unable to do, like read a map, we live in a modern world where basic skills are no longer needed, arithmetic anybody? But in the dark ages of the sixties you not only scored, you ate french fries, krinkly things from the snack bar, and after cleaning my ball, as I waited for departure, I was glued to the jukebox.

I remember hearing “Walk Like A Man,’ I was a Four Seasons fanatic. My mother purchased “Big Girls Don’t Cry,” but I was the one who needed “Dawn (Go Away),” that’s still my favorite, although I bought “Ronnie” and “Ragdoll” and the British were invading and obliterating everyone in their wake except for a little old band from Hawthorne, California, the Beach Boys, “I Get Around” held its own on the Nutmeg Bowl jukebox that spring of 1964.

Round round get around, I get around

They played that last night. And when I say “they” I mean Brian didn’t sing everything, his high notes were performed by Matt Jardine, who also sang “Don’t Worry Baby,” his voice was uncannily akin to Brian’s on the records.

But when the assembled multitude backed Brian as he sang about being bugged about driving down the same old strip…

Crickets. The Bowl was quiet. Weren’t they aware they were in the presence of America’s greatest rock and roll songwriter? An icon with so many hits that he can’t play them all in one night? The assembled multitude ultimately warmed up for “Pet Sounds,” but by that time Brian’s voice was ragged, he was struggling, yet before that…

He was the best I’ve heard him in his comeback days.

I’m not saying he didn’t miss notes, but in the early numbers you didn’t need to pull for him, he was carrying the show, and I marveled.

When you get infected by a song your whole perspective changes. Your life makes a left turn. It’s aural dope, you can’t live without it. I rode my bike down to Topps discount department store in July of ’65 to buy “Summer Days (And Summer Nights!!)” because I had to own “California Girls.”

I’d gone back and bought “Surfin’ USA.” “Shut Down Volume 2” and “Surfin’ Safari” previously. Just months before I’d had my dad take me to Korvette’s to buy “The Beach Boys Today!,” with the ultimately ersatz iteration of “Help Me Ronda,” but with “When I Grow Up (To Be A Man)” and “Dance, Dance, Dance” too. But the album started off with their cover of “Do You Wanna Dance?” which I dropped the needle on at the Camp Laurelwood social the first weekend in August and stole Jimmy Calechman’s girlfriend Jill Philipson, just like that, I had the music in me, I was inspired.

But “Today!” didn’t prepare me for “Summer Days.” It contained my favorite Carl Wilson vocal ever, “Girl Don’t Tell Me,” the hit version of “Help Me, Rhonda,” the indelible “Let Him Run Wild”…

And “California Girls.”

For the month of July, before I went to Laurelwood, I went to the day camp up at Fairfield Woods Junior High, and I slung my transistor over the handlebars and it was there, riding my bike on the asphalt path, that I first heard “California Girls.”

And that sealed the deal, Californ-i-a here I come!

And that’s where I am.

And when I heard that intro last night…

“California Girls” was like nothing else, it started with an extended instrumental, and then started to gallop…

Well east coast girls are hip, I really dig those styles they wear

It was a different era, the world was bigger, melody ruled, singability was key, harmony was transcendent and…

I kept calling to see if “Summer Nights” was in stock and I rode down the day of release, I had to walk my bike up the hill on my way back, but when I got home all sweaty and I broke the shrinkwrap and dropped the needle…I WAS IN HEAVEN!

And I was in heaven when I heard “California Girls” last night, singing along to all the words I knew by heart.

And when Al Jardine sang “Help Me, Rhonda” the circle was complete, my life made sense, I was exactly where I wanted to be.

I know, I know, Brian Wilson is 74. And tech rules the world. And it’s all about personal branding. You boast about your accomplishments on LinkedIn and shoot endless snaps for social media but…

None of that holds a candle to a song.

When it tests limits and pleases all at the same time.

By time Brian cued up “Good Vibrations” everybody was on their feet, singing along, heads aimed skyward in tribute to God, that he delivered such exquisite life-stimulating and life-saving work through his subject Brian Wilson.

We knew it was great back then, but we were exposed to greatness every day. Everybody played the guitar, bands tried to top each other, barriers were to be broken and all we had to do was flick the switch and these mellifluous sounds emanated from our transistors, the iPhones of their day.

Sometimes when I hear these songs I’m just a little boy. The attrition of the years wears off. I’m not only reminded of who I once was, but I’m that same person once again.

It’s like I just finished a string at the Nutmeg Bowl, like I just stole Jimmy’s girlfriend, like I just came home in the July heat and dropped the needle on the best Beach Boys album of all time.

God only knows how Brian wrote this music, how inexperienced and unheralded Tony Asher wrote these lyrics.

Tony was on stage last night. He’s still here.

And so is Brian.

And you know all these songs by heart.

And if you’re looking for fun in the sun, go to the show and you’ll be happy.

But for those of us who went down the rabbit hole, whose lives were changed by hearing this music… When you see Brian Wilson on stage, singing the story of your life…

You leave your phone in your pocket.

You love instead of hate.

And you feel privileged to have lived through this era and to still be standing.

We came on the Sloop John B. You and me. And last night the boat slipped into the dock and we were most definitely HOME!

P.S. Blondie Chaplin sang “Wild Honey” and his signature song, “Sail On Sailor.” And as thrilling as that was, what made me marvel was when he worked out on his Les Paul in between verses, I didn’t know the South African had the chops, and as he was wringing out the notes I realized that one Gibson is more powerful than any computer, any app, through its strings you can pull a noise more addictive than OxyContin, people are gonna pick up guitars and other musical instruments in the future, because there’s no other way to gain that power, plugging your guitar into a bank of amps and dominating those in attendance, making them pay attention.

P.P.S. The best and the brightest made music. The audience lived for it, there was nothing more powerful. It was the soundtrack to life and love, protest and politics too. If you’re younger, I’m not sure you’ll get it. If you evaluate last night’s show through a modern lens you might find it substandard. Today we expect perfection, we expect everything to work right out of the box and never fail. The record never skips and no one ever hits a bad note. Whereas as great as the supporting players were, Brian was imperfect. As are we. He evidenced humanity. He was stiff, albeit less so than recently. He was reading the lyrics from a too-obvious teleprompter, but he was there, with a smile on his face, he knew he’d written these songs, he knew what they meant to us, he was hanging ten on the ocean of our support. It ended up a tribal rite that left you speechless. Because music possesses that power, the ability to take over your brain and transport you to another dimension. And Brian Wilson was definitely somewhere else when he wrote all this stuff, but he brought it back from another planet just for us, without our ears it’s meaningless, with ours it’s more powerful than any gun, any weapon of mass destruction, because it’s all about hearts and minds, and last night Brian had OURS!

They screamed every time Tana Mongeau spoke.

Do you know who that is?

I don’t either.

The woman who runs Beautycon is a force of nature. I met Moj Mahdara at the Atom Factory, Troy Carter’s joint, it’s always the same people, investing in the new and different which you’d expect to be run by a new breed, but they’re not. I had a long conversation with Guy Oseary, he’s a backer, and the link to the organization was Eric Greenspan, the music attorney, who brokered the fit, Moj was looking for something to do after having two victories, after putting fifties and hundreds into multiple ventures, she’s the CEO.

I could not get a parking spot. Vehicles were parked willy-nilly, but driving Felice’s machine I was especially wary of illegitimate spaces. I ultimately found a spot in the far reaches and had to walk the better part of ten minutes to get to the hall.

Turns out there were 15,000 people there. Mostly girls, 16-34, and I thought they were there for the products, but Moj told me they were there for the community.

It was strangely desexualized. After JonBenet, our antenna are up for the underage made up like adults, but that was not this crowd, it seemed like they’d just graduated from Disneyland, this was the next stop on the theme park tour.

And Radio Disney was there.

Along with endless booths for cosmetics I’ve never of, and I get more magazines than anybody I know, I think I know the names.

Lime Crime?

That was the longest line in the joint. Over half an hour. To PAY! I figured they were giving something away, but it turns out Lime Crime has no brick and mortar presence, so the ability to reach out and touch the product had girls lining up with their wallets open. Maybe they took Apple Pay, there were some cash registers but multiple iPads, and the truth is everybody had a handset. The sheer number was staggering. When Jack & Jack took the stage and the assembled multitude lifted their devices over their heads for pictures you said to yourself… We live in a changed world. Everything we know is wrong.

Like the actresses in cosmetic ads. Moj told me her influencers were far more powerful. I crossed this with the CMO of L’Oreal, she said so too.

That’s what this affair is really about, getting up close and personal with influencers.

They line up for pictures. The influencers are young and made up and dressed up and you know none of them, but they’re all making good money. Or are they? I heard conflicting reports. That they were deep into six figures or all they had was their fame. I don’t know, you do your best to collect data but everybody’s selling and it’s hard to get to the truth, ain’t that America.

But you only get paid on YouTube, and so many of these girls are on Instagram and Snapchat. But you can do embedded sponsorships. There are agencies to broker this.

Confused yet?

Snapchat rules. It’s the Beatles of the generation, where they all live. Imagine a Fillmore East that accommodated EVERYBODY, then you’d get a semblance of the idea.

Although the difference is you can reach and out and touch the stars. They’re no different from you except they’ve broken through, and you want to too. That’s why you’re posting on Instagram, et al.

But the influencers are not like the musicians, they’re not young and dumb, they’re educated and articulate. It was amazing to see. Go to a music conference and you’ll learn nothing. The industry folk won’t tell you the truth and the musicians can barely eke out a sentence. But the aforementioned Tana Mongeau said it was all about Black Lives Matter, she was taking a stand, how refreshing! And each influencer could talk about haters and frequency of posting…they’re all students of the game.

As for Jack & Jack… The started on Vine, they’re out of Omaha, their manager told me they make seven figures, they employ household name producers, but they keep everything in-house. Too many have flopped with major labels. And when you do it yourself you make so much more money. J&J have sold over a million iTunes downloads, do the math, at 70%.

So something is happening here, and it ain’t exactly clear.

It was a sea of ethnicity, everybody could belong, so different from the baby boomer ethos where it’s about ascending to the top and keeping everybody else out.

And you try to discern the talent and you’re not quite sure what it is, you wonder if these influencers have a future, but you do know legions are lining up to replace them, and it’s all based on honesty and interaction.

And Beautycon is a business. Not only these profitable conventions, but monthly boxes of cosmetics, each one curated by an influencer whose picture is stashed inside. At the nexus of community and brands you find money. Yes, the smell of mazuma was palpable in the hall.

And I’m not saying musicians are second-class citizens, that these same girls don’t love them too. But I am saying that movies, TV and music are no longer the only world, and the barriers to entry are much lower online and the elements, the qualities of character that break you through, are different.

But everybody’s still into the bucks. I listened to Tyra Banks do her thing. She’s very personable, if not riveting, extremely interesting. She sometimes feels inadequate, the haters get to her, she relies on her mother to get her through. Hell, after forty five minutes I thought I knew her, and even though I’m old enough to know that’s untrue, that’s the game, personality and intimacy.

But she was hyping her branded cosmetics which depend upon multi-level marketing, which is a scam, it preys on people, it’s a pyramid scheme. And I find that offensive.

But Toni Ko started NYX as a teenager and sold it to L’Oreal for $500 million. So, you can win playing legitimately.

It’s a whole new world out there baby.

And it’s exciting.

But overwhelming.

“Hillary Clinton and Beautycon Draw Digital Influencers to Town Hall to Encourage Youth Vote”

Beautycon Festival LA

This is a bad film and a good one too.

It’s bad because the script is hackneyed, too busy with exposition, often unbelievable and certainly unnatural.

But it’s good because it illuminates the insecurity of an artist. The most sensitive amongst us create the greatest work, they illuminate our warts, the human condition, that’s why we love art, not because it’s got a good beat and you can dance to it, but because it makes us feel so not alone.

I wanted to go to the movies, I wanted to get away from life. But with so many entertainment options at our fingertips we only have time for the best, it’s not that I want my fifteen dollars back, but when I see a crappy movie I want my TIME back. They’re not making any more of it folks, use it wisely, it runs out. And there was nothing worth seeing at the ArcLight.

So I checked the streaming services, to see what was available. I’m almost at the end of a thirteen part documentary on World War II on Netflix, I feel like Tony Soprano, watching the History Channel, it’s amazing what you don’t learn in school, my teachers lived through it so they didn’t want to talk about it, they thought I knew it, but I didn’t, and still don’t. Watch “World War II In HD Colour,” yes, it’s colorized, and that sucks, but it’s still riveting.

But I wasn’t in the mood for non-fiction, like I said, I wanted to get away. So I peeked into Amazon Prime and found the Brian Wilson movie.

I love the Beach Boys. Jan & Dean reached me first, but they led me to Brian and the crew. And Brian’s only problem is he lived. Had he died, he’d be equal to John Lennon. But soldiering on, we were subjected to the seventies comeback with the SNL TV show, the eighties comeback with Eugene Landy and the twenty first century comeback with the final recording of “Smile.” How can we miss you when you won’t go away? Brian’s on tour every year, as a matter of fact, I’m seeing him Sunday night!

But it’s bizarre. Because he’s there and he’s not. He’s singing the songs but he’s not. He’s behind the piano but he’s not playing. It’s like going to a living museum, you question your attendance at this freak show.

But what does a family do with a freak?

Especially a drug casualty. Yesterday, on Terry Gross, Maia Szalavitz, an addiction expert, said tough love sucks, as do interventions, you’ve got to be kind. But what if nothing works?

Nothing worked with Brian Wilson.

The first time I saw him was at the movies in Westwood. He was wearing a satin jacket with his name embroidered. I went up and thanked him, told him I was a big fan, I got no response.

At the BMI awards he put his head on our table.

And on his bus a couple of years back he seemed to be talking to anybody but me, but I was the only one there.

That’s a great, someone detached, someone who just isn’t made for these times.

Too much is made about “Pet Sounds” in this flick. That wasn’t the only breakthrough, and I’d be lying if I said it was my favorite.

But I remember it being followed by the first greatest hits album not even two months thereafter, I could tell “Pet Sounds” was a stiff. And I know the legend re Mike Love, which is on screen here, he wants hits, no different from what came before, he’s the embodiment of today’s execs and acts, whereas Brian didn’t want to repeat himself.

Do you want to repeat yourself? Go to work and do the same damn thing day after day? Sounds like death to me. But that’s what they wanted from Brian, despite him being flesh and blood, not a robot on an assembly line.

So we get not only “Pet Sounds,” but “Good Vibrations.” And “‘Til I Die.”

But as much as Brian was sure he wanted to test limits, explore the fringe, beat the Beatles, he was unsure, insecure, that’s the human condition, you’re looking for support, oftentimes where you’ll get it the least, from your dad or your bandmate or your record company… Furthermore, people are confounded when you change, and if you don’t hit the bullseye, they tell you you’re through.

I don’t know how a movie like “Love & Mercy” gets made. Do filmmakers really think great numbers of people are going to pay money to go to a theatre to sit through it? Something that’s not a comic book extravaganza, something that doesn’t even look triumphant on the page?

Thank god for passion projects. But the best thing is movies live on, online, on streaming services, that’s where people see them today, that’s where their largest audience is.

And you should see “Love & Mercy.”

You’ll see an era where recording a great song was the peak of creativity, when Southern California was the epicenter of not only hedonism, but limit-testing, an environment where young people could live like royalty on the basis of song.

0’s and 1’s are much more friendly. It’s much easier to write a hit app than a hit song. And the app economy is based on giving people what they want, as opposed to what they need. Hit records give us a reason to live.

Paul Dano is more Brian Wilson than John Cusack.

Paul Giamatti overplays Eugene Landy, and is wearing a bad wig to boot.

And Melinda is portrayed as a saint, and no one’s that good.

And Brian’s stuck in the middle, alone, he doesn’t know we’re right alongside him.

He’s still here.

But it’s much more about what went down back there.

Funny how we tear everybody down, but when they break through we exalt them. We put them on a pedestal, when the truth is they’re just human, riddled with imperfections and self-doubt.

Brian Wilson may be a bit crazier, and a bunch more talented, but his story is the essence of being a musician, one who digs down deep based on passion and experience to deliver that which cannot be quantified which hopefully will titillate the public’s fancy.

This film focuses on the breakthroughs. Because those are the hardest to achieve. And it illustrates that getting what you want won’t necessarily make you happy.

Brian had hit records, made money, got off the road, was allowed to follow his vision, and he ended up isolated and paralyzed…

Brian Wilson lived for our sins. He could have died and had his legend set in stone, but he kept bumbling on, we all have to bumble on, we’ve all got victories and losses.

But few have peaks as high as Brian Wilson, or valleys as low.

This film will stimulate your artistic instincts, it will make you feel connected in a world that oftentimes seems incomprehensible.

And that’s the job of art.

Which is nearly impossible to get right.

But sometimes there are diamonds amidst the zirconia.

Like in “Love & Mercy.”

Pigs. That’s what we called the cops in the sixties, before Nixon got elected on a law and order platform, blacks were incarcerated in unprecedented numbers and whites rallied around law enforcement.

Oh, what a long strange trip it’s been.

Life surprises you. It’s a good reason to keep on keepin’ on. If you’d told me America was hurtling towards revolution, that its ills would come to the forefront, I’d have laughed. Things have been going in the wrong direction for so long now I’ve given up hope.

But then came Ferguson.

Credit cell phone cameras. In a nation fixated on the image, even more than the weapon, we’re all intrigued by the footage. Suddenly, the oppressed can document impropriety.

Of course I’m not defending the sniper. Killing is completely unjustified, I have sympathy for the families of the deceased. But when you keep a whole swath of the public down, when racism runs rampant, when guns are available easily, do you expect peace to reign, do you expect that no nitwit will twist the message and do something untoward?

Like those shooting up abortion clinics. They may be insane, but they’ve been hearing the right wing agitation for so long they’ve taken the law into their own hands.

And let’s stay with the right wing agitation. It was a long game which has now played out, come to fruition. To achieve its agenda the Republicans began the Federalist Society, to put right wing judges in place. To the point where getting an abortion in a right wing state is rough, to the point where even if you’re a citizen you might be unable to vote. There used to be protections, but the right wing Supreme Court got rid of them, saying everything was copacetic, that racism no longer exists.

Kind of like anti-Semitism. Everybody hates the Jews. I know, because I am one. Amazing what people will say when they don’t know you’re a member of the tribe.

But at least my skin is white. Black people are black all day long, identifiably so, and as my African-American Uber driver said today, racism is worse than ever, it’s just that the white people know better than to verbalize it in mixed company.

He also said that racism was exacerbated by the loss of educational opportunities. You know, the death of affirmative action, which was eviscerated because one white person might have to step aside to enable a whole race to get ahead.

And the left wing elites are not much better. Where is the opportunity for the black man in today’s society? Especially one who’s been to jail? And Donald Trump is just stirring up hate, but at the bottom of it is economic dissatisfaction, that the immigrants stole the working class’s jobs.

Meanwhile, the privileged whites cling ever tighter to their guns and money. Leaving little chance for the downtrodden, those without opportunities.

This is not a law and order issue, this is a cultural issue, an economic issue. When are we going to see all people as equal? Not only in protection under the law, but in opportunity?

Bill Clinton put a dent in welfare. Everybody with something hates those with nothing. Believing if the poor just pulled themselves up by their bootstraps they too could make it, not realizing the door is shut for so many, who aren’t even aware of the slim opportunities they have, who would tell them?

I’ve lived through this before, in the aforementioned sixties. The white kids were sick and tired of living by conventions that made no rational sense. And the black people wanted respect.

Ain’t that a funny word.

We’ll tune into the NBA but we won’t give a black person who is not famous a job.

And then we criticize athletes for their lifestyle when the truth is white men are no different, when rich they like to screw and waste money too.

And why are we looking up to athletes anyway?

And music is dominated by African-Americans, check the statistics, hip-hop/rap rules. Isn’t it funny that the younger generation can see the value, but those in power cannot.

Then again, a couple of decades back, the refrain was “F… Tha Police,” whereas today music has veered from being social commentary to a dash for cash.

That’s the bottom line in our country today, the bottom line. Cops stop cars for revenue as opposed to the infraction. Because the whites don’t want to pay taxes, believing they earned the money and the underclass does not, pay taxes, that is. But the underclass pays sales and payroll taxes, assuming you can get a job.

So the whites rally around institutions, believing they’ve won. You can’t question the government, unless you want to drown it in the bathtub, the Dixie Chicks sacrificed their career for speaking their truth, because people no longer want to look under the carpet, or in the mirror, and realize they’re imperfect and change has got to come.

It will.

Because eventually the pot boils over, the lid blows off. Everything looks cool and then you realize it is not.

Let’s start with jobs. A national work program to redo our sagging infrastructure, which needs it, now, when money is still cheap.

Then let’s readdress the safety net. No one should starve, no one should lack a roof over their head. And they should not be restricted in what they can spend on, that erodes their dignity, it’s really no different from making a Jew wear a yellow star.

Then we’ve got to take back our prisons, so much of the infrastructure that has been privatized and now has no oversight. Some things need to be run by the government.

And we’ve got to address the drug laws, hell, decriminalization is a start. And let nonviolent offenders out and institute more programs integrating them back into society.

And not only do we need to reduce the cost of college, so that in-state universities are not dominated by out-of-state students because they can pay the full freight, but we must help the disadvantaged get in, and stay in.

And there must be more money for elementary and secondary school education, and there must be a balance amongst all schools, so everybody gets an opportunity.

You think that immigrant is taking your job, that black person is making life dangerous, but the truth is these people are helping you, adding to the rich fabric of our country.

Enough with the demonization.

Enough with the guns.

All lives have value.

But we only seem to pay attention when they’re snuffed out.

How about those who are still here? Who are minorities, who have few advantages. They’re just as good as you and me folks, they could make it if we helped them.

Lyndon Johnson spoke of a Great Society.

Today it’s every person for him or herself.

The cops need to feel safe, they need to be protected.

But the people do too.

It’s kind of like the law. Innocent until proven guilty.

But in today’s America a black person is guilty until proven innocent.

That can’t go on.