Sly Stone, Brian Wilson, and the unifying effect of pop music
The passing of two iconic artists reminds us that we still have common threads that bind us together
When the news hit my social media feed that Brian Wilson died, I immediately went to Facebook and posted a link to “God Only Knows,” the signature track off the Beach Boys’ magnum opus Pet Sounds.
It’s silly, really, but in a world where we’re all interconnected in an impersonal way via computers, phone apps and electronic communication, the easiest form of mourning is to post something in the moment. And losing Wilson — the co-founder, songwriter, singer, guitarist and producer of the Beach Boys — is a big moment.
And then a sillier thing happened: Within two hours of my post, a handful of other friends posted the same link to the same song, with variations on the theme of “RIP Brian Wilson.” I’m not suggesting that they posted that particular track because of me, but rather it speaks to the strength of “God Only Knows,” that it resonated just as strongly with the people in my life as it did with me.
And then, sillier still, people I don’t know on bigger media outlets like Twitter/X and Bluesky started posting the same thing. I lost count, but at least 20 people I follow posted their condolences to a man they never met with a link to the remastered version of “God Only Knows.”
That’s amazing to me. And just a couple of days ago, while it didn’t make the same waves as Wilson’s passing did, I was happy to see quite a few shout outs to Sly Stone — ringleader of the ‘60s and ‘70s pop force Sly and the Family Stone — who died earlier this week. They put out some solid material, but my all-time favorite is still “Everyday People,” the band’s first #1 hit, which commanded the top of the Billboard Hot 100 for four weeks in 1969. You may have a different favorite — different strokes for different folks, I guess.
What’s refreshing about this turn of events is that, despite the sadness surrounding the death of two iconic musicians, their passing also served as a timeline cleanse of sorts. Over the past couple of weeks, as is the way of social media, my feeds have been oversaturated with political snark, overwrought social commentaries, and endless posturing over the woes of this era. Regardless of where you fall on the socio-political spectrum, the endless banter and bickering becomes numbing, and often makes me want to shut down those accounts completely. I very purposely avoid anything tangentially political in Chart Chat, and I do it because I want my section of the internet to be about the things that unite us, not the things that divide us. Substack and my dedicated music-loving acquaintances here are a welcome diversion.
And that’s where I’m at today, with the death of Brian Wilson so closely following Sly Stone’s passing this week. I find great joy and peace in reflecting on music because it’s a great equalizer; it unites us and spiritually strengthens us. Everyone needs to take a minute to reflect on “Everyday People,” the brilliance in its simplicity, and lyrics that I didn’t appreciate as a kid that I find utterly masterful today:
There is a long hair
That doesn't like the short hair
For being such a rich one
That will not help the poor one
Different strokes
For different folks
And so on and so on
And scooby dooby dooby
Oh sha sha
We got to live together
I think the part that got me as a kid was the “scooby dooby dooby, oh sha sha” verse, which I heard dozens of times listening to it on weekend mornings as part of my father’s routine of turning on the radio, drinking a pot of coffee, and smoking a pack of Marlboro Lights while he listened to the hits and read the newspaper cover to cover. As an adult, I love it as a lyrical transition from conflict and turns it into a ‘60s funk version of “blah blah blah.” They’re like, “We get it, you guys disagree, but at the end of the day, we’re all the same, so figure it out and live together.” I can’t appreciate that song in the context of society in the 1960s, but I can certainly apply it to 2025, and while the players may be aligned differently these days, the message is most assuredly the same.
The Beach Boys didn’t often concern themselves with the social politics of their era; by and large, their record label wanted them to churn out hits about beach life, girls, fast cars and young-man-on-the-prowl shenanigans. And man, did they ever: “I Get Around,” the first of the band’s three #1 Hot 100 hits, is a stone-cold classic — a song that jumps right out of the gate with a “round round, get around” and then that amazing chorus of “I get around!” from the rest of the group, is still chill inducing.
And for folks of a certain age, that song became the soundtrack for our first big-screen introduction to the conception of a human child.
I write about music that made an impact on the Billboard charts, and that’s because my musical influences have always been guided by what’s popular. And the Beach Boys — and to a slightly lesser extent, Sly and the Family Stone — have been perpetually popular throughout the generations. Folks in my parents’ generation jammed out to “Help Me Rhonda” and “California Girls” and “Good Vibrations,” and fell in love with all-time classics like “Family Affair” and “Dance to the Music.” Eventually, by cultural osmosis, these songs became the backdrop to movies and car commercials, invading the zeitgeist and informing a new generation about the bands’ greatness. We all love these songs, even if we weren’t alive when they were at their most popular.
Even in today’s popular culture, Brian Wilson and Sly Stone still inform a lot of what we consume. I’m constantly in awe of today’s artists, movie makers and TV showrunners, who seamlessly integrate songs from our monocultural past into touchstone moments that perfectly capture the mood of pivotal scenes or crucial sequences. Just today I was discussing the Disney+ series “Daredevil: Born Again,” where a season-finale montage ran against the musical backdrop of Radiohead’s “Everything In Its Right Place,” and the music was just perfect for the moment. That got me thinking about a similar moment with “God Only Knows” from a truly one-of-a-kind TV show, “The Leftovers,” and hearing the song paired perfectly with a pivotal moment in the show just made me love it even more.
I’m rambling now, but this felt like a moment I needed to capture. I’m not deeply heartbroken or shocked to hear about the passing of Sly Stone or Brian Wilson, but whenever two icons from my musical journey pass away in quick succession, it leads me to an introspective place where I think about the power of music and the resonance of artists like them who formed the foundation of our modern concept of popular music. And, of course, I think of my dad, a person who grew up with Sly and the Family Stone and the Beach Boys and listened to their songs seemingly every day for 50 years, a listening pattern that became a vital part of the soundtrack of my own life. When these artists pass away, it both reminds me of him and brings him back to life in a small way — all through the music.
And, in the context of social media, it brought all of us together, too, if only briefly. But in that moment, it turned people away from the present and reminded them of their past, and served as yet another example of how alike we all are, despite our differences.
That’s the power of popular music — an omnipresent reminder that we’re everyday people, and we have more in common with each other than we think.
God only knows what we’ll be without Brian Wilson and Sly Stone, but hopefully we grow a little stronger together because of them.
Amen.
Talking about these two (and now Ananda Lewis & Nitzer Ebb’s Douglas McCarthy) have been a nice diversion from all the other news.
They were both wizards and visionaries in the recording studio, and their work sparked the continued interests of so many listeners over the years. And in both cases it occurred in spite of the fact that they were both messed up in the head in the rest of their lives.