Brian Wilson’s death has ripped open old wounds among the Beach Boys, with Al Jardine slamming Mike Love’s funeral eulogy as a self-serving spectacle.
Fox News reported that Wilson, the genius behind the Beach Boys’ iconic sound, passed away at 82, and his August 6, 2025, funeral became a stage for rekindled band rivalries, as Jardine accused Love of turning a tribute into a personal highlight reel.
Formed in 1961 by Wilson, his brothers Carl and Dennis, cousin Mike Love, and friend Al Jardine, the Beach Boys sold over 100 million records, but internal rifts have long plagued the group.
Jardine’s recent criticism centers on Love’s eulogy, which he claimed fixated on Love’s own contributions, like writing “Good Vibrations,” while sidelining Wilson’s legacy. A conservative lens sees this as classic ego-driven posturing, not unlike the self-obsessed culture we often critique.
Jardine didn’t hold back, calling Love’s speech devoid of compassion and steeped in “serious megalomania.” He fired back at a post-funeral event, pointing out his own songwriting with Wilson, like “Surfin’ Down the Swanee River,” to counter Love’s self-aggrandizement. This public jab underscores a feud that’s simmered for decades, rooted in clashing visions for the band.
Love’s tribute painted Wilson as the “soul” of the Beach Boys, praising his unmatched musical gifts and their early days harmonizing together.
Yet Jardine saw it differently, insisting Love was “more focused on Mike” than honoring Wilson. Such self-promotion at a funeral reeks of the same performative virtue we see in today’s progressive grandstanding.
The Beach Boys’ history is littered with conflict, particularly between Jardine and Love. Jardine was once ousted from the band by Love, a move that led him to form Beach Boys Family and Friends with his sons, Wilson’s daughters, and Cass Elliot’s daughter. That venture didn’t sit well with the powers behind the Beach Boys’ name, sparking legal battles.
Jardine faced lawsuits over using the “Beach Boys” name, tied to Brother Records, the band’s 1960s-founded label, though Love’s representative denied he personally sued.
Jardine called the legal onslaught “devastating financially and emotionally,” claiming Love showed “no mercy.” This smells like the kind of heavy-handed control we criticize in overreaching institutions.
Despite the bad blood, the Beach Boys reunited for a 2012 tour, briefly burying the hatchet. Jardine enjoyed the harmony, noting it proved they could still perform together, even with “political overtones” lingering. But the truce was short-lived, as Love’s decision to end the reunion left Jardine and Wilson sidelined.
Post-2012, Love and Bruce Johnston continued as the Beach Boys, excluding Jardine and Wilson. Meanwhile, Wilson, Jardine, and Blondie Chaplin formed a trio, performing until Wilson’s dementia diagnosis forced him under a conservatorship. These splits reflect the fractured loyalty we often see when personal agendas trump collective good.
Wilson’s family announced his passing on Instagram, expressing heartbreak and asking for privacy as they grieved. Their plea for respect contrasts sharply with the public spat that followed, which threatens to overshadow Wilson’s monumental contributions. It’s a shame when personal vendettas drown out what should be a unified tribute.
Jardine’s comparison of Love to P.T. Barnum paints a picture of a showman obsessed with the next big tour, even dreaming up a “tour of Mars.”
He recalled Love’s “exotic ideas” clashing with his own push to return to the studio, which ended with his ousting. This kind of flamboyant self-interest mirrors the performative nonsense conservatives often call out in cultural elites.
Love’s camp insists he didn’t directly sue Jardine, but the legal fallout over Beach Boys Family and Friends left Jardine reeling. He claimed his band sounded better than Love’s, prompting the aggressive response. It’s hard not to see this as a power grab, the kind of territorial nonsense that stifles creativity.
The 2012 reunion showed flickers of what could have been, with Jardine noting the joy of singing together again. Yet Love’s choice to revert to his “handpicked band” cut off any hope of further collaboration, leaving Wilson and Jardine in the dust. This move reeks of the same exclusionary tactics we see in polarized cultural debates.
The Beach Boys’ saga, now reignited at Wilson’s funeral, is a cautionary tale of ego and division. Jardine’s sharp words and Love’s self-focused eulogy reveal a band still at odds, unable to fully honor their greatest member.
In a world quick to amplify self over substance, this feud is a stark reminder to keep our eyes on what truly matters—Wilson’s music, not the noise around it.
