Wilson finds his place in the sun
The Brian Wilson diehards were abuzz during intermission. They couldn't believe how great the former Beach Boys mastermind sounded and acted during his first set.
"I haven't seen him engaged like this in a long time," someone marveled in the lobby.
"I know, and he sounds really natural tonight, too," his friend said.
People talk about Wilson like that because of his long and tortured road to recovery after years of mental instability, partly driven by drug abuse. He's seen as a damaged genius ("the Mozart of rock 'n' roll," as he was introduced onstage), and his very presence on the tour circuit is a small miracle. People feel lucky and honored to see him in 2008.
But that doesn't make up for the pang of disappointment I suspect some fans feel when they see Wilson live for the first time, as I did at the Orpheum on Wednesday night. He's such a mythic figure in pop music, and when you realize that he's flesh and blood and doesn't sing those glorious high notes anymore, it's a letdown whether you want to admit it or not.
At least Wilson works well within his limitations. His voice was in good shape, he bantered with the audience, and he has put together an excellent 10-piece band that re-creates the Beach Boys' signature sound.
The evening was divided into two sets: an hour of Beach Boys material and then Wilson's new album, "That Lucky Old Sun," performed in its entirety. There were the standard sing-alongs ("California Girls," "Good Vibrations") and a few unexpected chestnuts ("Salt Lake City," "The Little Girl I Once Knew").
Wilson sat in front of a keyboard, but it wasn't clear how much he played it. Occasionally, he seemed more mindful of his fellow musicians than fully engaged in the songs. He almost looked like the guest of honor at a big party thrown just for him.
But the band - particularly guitarist Jeffrey Foskett, whose gorgeous falsetto was an uncanny carbon copy of Wilson's original high harmonies - gave the show an exuberant energy.
Wilson was capable of greatness, though. He sang "God Only Knows," and it sent shivers up the spine, with a soaring string section and the band's wall of harmonies.
The second set was by no means the fan favorite - no one stood up to dance until the end; the guy beside me nodded off - but it felt more relevant and cohesive. Maybe that's because "That Lucky Old Sun" represents where Wilson is now in his life. On "Midnight's Another Day," Wilson gave a clue as to what he might have been feeling all night when he sang: "All these people make me feel so alone."
James Reed can be reached at jreed@globe.com. 