Brian Wilson

Those of you who watched the Discovery Channel video might wonder why I chose Wilson’s song to go along with it. As Dennis mentioned, Wilson is a fellow traveler, and I have always felt that his music on Pet Sounds expressed the deepest most lonely parts of him, and me. To explain further, here’s something I wrote about him:

Brian’s Song

Last night I stumbled out of bed to find my cat and dog–usually at odds–working together against an unseen foe, poking their paws under the couch like little prizefighters. I sat down on the floor, trying to figure out what they were looking at, and a mouse dashed away from the cat and into the nightgown I was wearing.

Much as I like rodents, I’ve never been keen on having them in my sleepwear. I jumped up, and everyone scattered. And after that, of course, sleep was but a dream.

So I decided to read last week’s issue of Time magazine, which has a cover story on bipolar disorder. When I saw the story, I’ll admit I felt proud. It’s definitely the closest I’ll ever come to being on the cover of a national magazine.

The article is excellent, but I was disturbed by an accompanying piece headlined “Manic Genius,” which listed several famous people who all suffered from bipolar disorder. Ever since Kay Redfield Jamison wrote her book Touched With Fire: Manic Depressive Illness and the Artistic Temperament, about great artists with mental illnesses, people can’t get enough of this parlor game of insanity. The goal seems to be to shock so-called “normal” people into the anti-stigmatizing realization that the people they admire most had mental illnesses–so it’s really not so bad!

I’d like to invent an educational board game with a similar message. Instead of “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon,” it could be called “Six Degrees of Robert Downey Jr.”

Here’s how it would work.

One person has a card they read to the other players. Something like, “In the 1960s Lionel Aldridge was a defensive end for the Green Bay Packers. He played for Vince Lombardi in two Super Bowls. By the early 1970s he was homeless and delusional. What mental illness did Lionel Aldridge have?”

Player 1: “He was an incredible player–he had to have a powerful motivation.”

Player 2: “So you’re saying his energy might have been a result of mania?”

Player 1: “I think it’s possible.”

Player 2: “Yeah, but what about the homeless part?”

Player 1: “What do you mean?”

Player 2: “Doesn’t that sound more like depression to you? It must be pretty sad to be without a home.”

Player 3: “No, you guys, wait! It must be schizophrenia. It says, homeless and delusional.”

Score!

Time magazine’s choices of manic geniuses did not include Aldridge, because, I suppose, he didn’t have bipolar disorder. Fair enough. But Aldridge’s story is at least inspiring. Until his death in 1998, he was an advocate for the mentally ill who spoke frankly about his own experience.

Instead Time chose composer Robert Schumann (died in an insane asylum), Virginia Woolf (drowned herself), Ernest Hemingway (shot himself), Lord Byron (died at 36 after lifelong struggles with anorexia and bulimia), Vincent Van Gogh (shot himself) and Edgar Allan Poe (attempted suicide in 1848; died under mysterious circumstances in 1849). And who was at the bottom of Time magazine’s crazy-genius list? The king of grunge himself, Kurt Cobain (which Time spelled “Curt”)–and we all know how that turned out.

Are we supposed to feel empowered by knowing these artistic geniuses were mentally ill?

I’d like to see some articles about artistic manic geniuses who are different–namely, alive. Of course, most of those people don’t want to talk about it. It’s like being gay. Celebrities don’t want to admit it until it will appear a noble and brave admission. Consider Rosie O’Donnell. From her self-congratulatory interviews, you’d think she was at Stonewall.

I wonder when it will be noble to admit you have a mental illness. “I was at Byberry!”

My nomination for living manic genius is Brian Wilson, whom I saw last Sunday at the TLA. Unlike the sad sacks in Time, Wilson is a worthy, if unlikely, hero for people with mental illness.

In terms of genius, it’s a no-brainer: He was, after all, the composer, arranger, producer, singer, guitarist and writer of the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds. I’m not going to get into why Pet Sounds soared beyond anything that came before, because if I hear one more word on that particular subject, I’m going to spontaneously combust. But is it not the most exquisite instance of madness turned beautiful?

And in terms of heroism, well, just watching Brian Wilson in front of an audience–one that welcomed him with one of the warmest embraces I’ve ever seen–is completely phenomenal. How often do you see someone with a mental illness onstage, buffeted by supportive applause? No one’s cheering like that for Margot Kidder (okay, bad example).

Wilson is up front about his mental illness, perhaps because he lacks the necessary guile to do otherwise, or maybe because the ravages of the illness–and the drugs with which he self-medicated–are still so obvious.

A co-worker told me he didn’t think many people would consider Wilson “functional.” I understand that. But he’s such an inspiration: He’s touring; he’s making new music; he married fairly recently and adopted two infant daughters; he’s repairing old relationships; and he’s bringing the gift of his genius to all those who never lost faith. He’s hanging in there, despite the struggle.

I’ll take that over “Curt” Cobain any day of the week.

Brian Wilson’s website

liz | 11:38 AM | Uncategorized