Tag: Beach BOys

Rabbi Sol Solomon’s Rabbinical Reflection #194 (6/14/2025): SLY & BRI

This Rabbinical Reflection first aired June 14, 2025 on the Dave’s Gone By video podcast. 

Rabbi Sol’s Rabbinical Reflections are heard on the long-running Dave’s Gone By radio/video podcast program (davesgoneby.com) and then archived as text and audio on the Rebbe’s blog, Shalomdammit.com, where a transcript of this Reflection may be read. 

Rabbi Sol is also the creator of the stage show, “Shalom Dammit! An Evening with Rabbi Sol Solomon,” which played in NYC in Nov. 2011 and Aug. 2012.

More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com 

 More on Rabbi Sol: shalomdammit.com

TRANSCRIPT:
Rabbi Sol Solomon’s Rabbinical Reflection #194 (6/14/2025): SLY & BRI

Shalom Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon with a Rabbinical Reflection for mid-June 2025.

Oy, what a sad week for music-loving Boomers like yours jewly. On Monday June 9th, Sylvester Stewart, aka Sly Stone, passed away at the surprisingly old age of 82. Just two days later, Brian Wilson, wunderkind of the Beach Boys, left this world at the very same age.

Talk about influential! Not only are rap and hip hop children of Sly’s beats, but any music group with a big sound and a desire to be inclusive and idealistic owes a debt to the Family Stone. After all, the band comprised white guys, black guys, an Italian dude, and women, including their keyboardist Rose and beloved trumpet player, Cynthia. If she had done nothing else but scream “All the squares go home” and “all together now!” her place in music history would be secure. And the person who gave her that place was Sly Stone, whose songs like “Everyday People,” “Stand,” “If You Want Me to Stay,” and “Everybody is a Star” reached for the stars and grabbed them. At their peak, Sly and the Family Stone were like the 4th of July, a 1960s peace march, and a Diddy party all rolled into one. 

Meanwhile, the Beach Boys began as a whiter, mellower party: California kids catchin’ a wave, cruisin’ in cool cars, and already feeling nostalgic about their youth and good times slipping away. And, as Brian Wilson deepened his themes, he simultaneously morphed into one of the greatest arrangers in pop history. If Phil Spector built a wall of sound, Wilson constructed a Legosphere of harmony, eccentricity, and fun. When the album Pet Sounds came out, the Beatles heard it and said, “We’ve gotta do better.” They did. And when “Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” was released, Brian Wilson said, “I’ve gotta do better.” He didn’t. And laboring on Smile, or Smiley Smile, or “Smiling the Smiles of Guy Smiley” broke Wilson’s brain. Still, for a short time, Sly Stone and Brian Wilson had the Mozart thing: God was comin’ through them, touching everything they did.

Now, is it because they were both crazy? Did they each self-destruct because that level of genius has to flame out after burning so bright? Maybe. They also did a mountain of drugs. Brian, already a schizophrenic, used coke and LSD to enhance his creativity; Sly, wanting to take himself higher, used PCP and crack because back then, that was a rock star. Both of these idiots mashed their cerebrums into oatmeal. Sly turned paranoid, canceled gigs, ran through his fortune, and squandered every opportunity for a comeback owing to his aberrant behavior. Brian was a little luckier. He found a therapist, who was both a shyster and a miracle worker. Depressed, bedbound, and obese, Wilson nonetheless kept coming back to music, and by the 1990s was again recording, producing, and even touring. They say the last two years he was struggling with dementia but…when wasn’t he?

So, kids, here’s a cautionary tale: to quote South Park’s Mr. Mackey, “Drugs are bad, m’kay?” Say all you want about personal freedom, state law versus federal, edible versus smokeable—if you’re gonna put your mind on a rollercoaster, the seatbelt is not guaranteed.

Which brings us back again to the consolation prize that both Sly Stone and Brian Wilson lived a lot longer than their lifestyles promised. Both men saw themselves appreciated and sampled by new generations, and revered for their contributions to culture. Sly taught us to accept that different folks have different strokes. Brian looked at our burdensome world, and, rather than complain, sought the silver lining saying, “Wouldn’t it be nice?” God only knows what music would have been without the two of them.

This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches in Great Neck, New York. Boom Shaka laka laka boom. 

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