Brian Wilson, per usual…
We didn’t know what, in the name of all that is holy, we were doing at the Beverly Glen Center yesterday, until we witnessed at an empty table in the delicatessen there a lone, pale, Brian Wilson in monastic repose-hands folded; weary, unfocused gaze, Aloha shirt, no menu-just as the opening chords to The Shondells’ 1960s recessional hymn “Crimson & Clover” slid from a nearby speaker. He slowly closed his eyes and, as far as he seemed to know, disappeared.
- Mike Ruffino
