THE LOST BOY

DENNIS WILSON was The Beach Boys' drummer, pin-up, alcoholic and chaos agent. He may also have been the group's other genius. In this extract from his new book on the band, PETER DOGGETT explores Wilson's tragic decline, and the extraordinary miracle it contained: Pacific Ocean Blue.

Sunset soul: Dennis Wilson in the late ’70s; (opposite) Wilson the 19-year-old Beach Boy, 1964.

Photograph by ED ROACH

IN THE SUMMER OF 1969, SINGER-SONGWRITER James Taylor raced a stolen motorcycle off-road in Martha’s Vineyard, unaware that the brakes didn’t work and the throttle sometimes stuck open. He found out when he drove into a clump of trees, breaking bones in all four limbs. Just less than two years later, singer-songwriter Dennis Wilson – no stranger to wrecking his own bikes and cars – injured his hand so severely when he stuck it through a pane of glass that he would have died from loss of blood if his wife had not immediately secured a tourniquet around his wrist.

In the summer between those death-defying mishaps, Taylor and Wilson spent six weeks together, filming their only acting roles. Monte Hellman’s Two-Lane Blacktop was hyped as the natural successor to Easy Rider; but its featureless plot and anti-acting from its supposed stars condemned it to cult appeal. Taylor’s moody silence was charismatic for a tortured rock star with a history of heroin abuse, but it did not translate onto the big screen. Wilson’s carefree normality was only marginally more compelling to watch. The two men bickered on set, as Dennis kept blowing takes by screwing up his lines. But, as Monte Hellman recalled, he had a naturalistic style in the film that was innate rather than studied.

“He was so totally unself-conscious,” Hellman recalled many decades later, “to the point where he literally forgot there was a camera, and he got caught up in just watching what was going on. It’s an amazing thing to see and I’ve never experienced that before.”

NEITHER TAYLOR NOR WILSON WAS troubled with further movie offers. Taylor moved forward into musical superstardom; Wilson on a path to self-destruction that began with that June 1971 accident. The particulars have never been clear: at various times, Wilson’s injury was attributed to a DIY repair gone wrong; a simple misjudging of distance between body and glass; a fight with his second wife, Barbara; or (most likely) a burst of drunken rage. Previous self-inflicted disasters had kept the drummer off the road for, at most, a few weeks, but this was altogether more serious, requiring lengthy and complex surgery, followed by years of recovery and rehabilitation as nerves and sinews slowly reconnected.

Ed Roach, Getty

In a single moment, Dennis had sabotaged his status as The Beach Boys’ drummer: it would be more than three years before he returned to the drum kit. Also halted was his exploration of a solo career, which had been launched almost imperceptibly in 1970 with a haunting British single, Sound Of Free. Having convinced himself that he could maintain an artistic voice beyond the group, he had begun to assemble his first solo album, supposedly given the working title of Poops or Hubba Hubba. But that project was torpedoed by his accident.

The most enduring aftermath of his injury was the damage to his sense of self-worth. Perhaps, like Brian, he could hear his father’s voice deriding him for ruining his career. Or perhaps he had been using his drums as a form of catharsis, to hold frustration and depression at bay, and that relief had now been removed. Whatever the precise psychological cause, Dennis slid immediately into a level of alcohol abuse that was a serious barrier to his future as a functioning adult, let alone a creative artist.