In a long life and a career that’s been almost as long, there are so many people to thank and to recognize. I want to start by apologizing in case there are any omissions. It’s not my intention to exclude anyone. But memory serves imperfectly.
I’d like to thank, first, my family. That means so many things. Family means so many things to me, and it has shaped me over the years. There’s my current family: my wife, Melinda, and my kids Daria, Delanie, Dylan, Dash, and Dakota. There’s my first wife, Marilyn, and my daughters Wendy and Carnie. And there’s the family I joined when I came into the world: my dad, Murry, and my mom, Audree—and their parents and siblings—and my brothers, Dennis and Carl. Families have been a source of love and sometimes of difficulty. They’ve been the place where I learned who I was and sometimes who I wasn’t. You can’t be anything without family, and you have to be so many things, both good and bad, with them.
My brothers, of course, were the core of my second family—the Beach Boys. Dennis and Carl were in the Boys with me, and will be in it with me forever, even though they’re no longer with us. My cousin Mike Love was there from the start. Al Jardine was there almost as long, as was David Marks. The band has been a going concern in many different forms over the years, and there have been so many contributors at so many different levels, from onstage singers to songwriting collaborators to studio musicians to engineers: Bruce Johnston, Gary Usher, Roger Christian, Blondie Chaplin, Glen Campbell, Tony Asher, Van Dyke Parks, Chuck Britz, Hal Blaine, Carol Kaye, Jack Rieley, Steve Desper, Terry Melcher, and so many more. I was in studios with them. I was on stages with them sometimes, and I was with them in spirit when I wasn’t there in person. I was in hotel rooms and executive offices. Records got made (and sometimes unmade) in all those places. Some of those records became hits. Some included songs that are still played on the radio all the time. In some ways, those years in the Beach Boys are distant memories. In some ways, they’re as close as yesterday.
After the Beach Boys, I had a band of my own, and I still have that band. Those musicians have sustained me for the last decade-plus, though some have come and gone. I couldn’t have done it without them: Darian Sahanaja, Scott Bennett, Paul Von Mertens, Nicky Wonder, Nelson Bragg, Mikey D’Amico, Probyn Gregory, Jeff Foskett, Matt Jardine, Billy Hinsche, Brett Simons, Bob Lizik, Taylor Mills, Todd Sucherman, Jim Hines, and more. And those years have also brought me into contact with wonderful collaborators: Andy Paley, Joe Thomas, Don Was, Mark Linett, Wes Seidman. Jason Fine was a journalistic champion of my work since Imagination. It’s strange when other people help you become more yourself. That’s one of the amazing things about creative work.
Outside of the music world, I’ve had great friends like Danny Hutton, David Leaf, Jerry Weiss, and more. Their wives and families have stuck with me over the years, almost as much as my own. It’s always amazing to look around me and see friendly faces. Ray Lawlor, one of those close friends, was with me through this book process, helping to keep me in the right headspace when it came to remembering the past. I also want to thank Melinda’s family, the Ledbetters, for always being so good to me—I am grateful, Rose and Patrick.
I couldn’t have made this career work without Jean Sievers, who oversees so many things for me, or my attorneys Lee Phillips, Larry Marks, and Eric Custer. I couldn’t have made this book work without Ben Schafer, who provided a steady editing hand. Ben Greenman helped to bring thought into language.
Melinda and I are grateful to Bill Pohlad and his team for making the movie Love and Mercy. It wouldn’t have happened without him—or Paul Dano and John Cusack, who played me at different ages, and Paul Giamatti and Elizabeth Banks, who also gave brilliant performances in the film. And the film’s writers, Oren Moverman and Michael Lerner, told the story the right way.
That movie and this book tell a story that is sometimes dark and difficult. It was that way because of a group of people—one person in particular, and the group that followed him—who came into my life at a time when I was not capable of standing up for myself. I was worn down by medication and worn out by surveillance. I don’t want to mention that person by name here in the acknowledgments. I mentioned him in the book. That was enough.
Lastly, I want to thank the world of musicians. Some were making music before me. Some were doing it at the same time. Some followed my lead. So many of them are inspirational, from George Gershwin to the Four Freshmen to Chuck Berry to Phil Spector to the Everly Brothers to the Beatles to the Rolling Stones and beyond. Doing what they do, doing what I do, is a spiritual act. It touches the human spirit right at the center.
Can you hear the music? I hear it all the time.