Below are more excerpts from my late May interview with Brian Wilson that served as the basis for this week's cover story. We talked about his thoughts on this year's release of the long-delayed Smile, the unpleasant memories of its creation, reuniting with collaborator Van Dyke Parks after 40 years, and the much-rumored Beach Boys reunion.

You've talked about listening to "Rhapsody in Blue" as a child, and last year you released your album of Gershwin standards. What is it about Gershwin's music that has proven so impactful throughout your life?

Well, his harmonies I like a lot. I learned a lot about music from him.

What specifically in the harmonies is so resonant with you?

His violins.

Your love of Gershwin certainly answers the question from "When I Grow Up (to Be a Man)": "Will I dig the same things that turned me on as a kid?" What else from your childhood do you still love today?

Chuck Berry. Phil Spector.

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Brian Wilson's interview with the Voice's Stacey Anderson will appear in our June 8 issue, just in time for his residency at Highline Ballroom June 11-13. During the shows, the reclusive genius will perform last year's album of George Gershwin standards, Brian Wilson Reimagines Gershwin, as well as select Beach Boys hits.

While speaking with Anderson today, Wilson denied the rumor that the Beach Boys will reunite next year in celebration of their 50th anniversary, as reported in Rolling Stone and by the BBC.

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Adele
Beacon Theatre
Thursday, May 19

Better than: Staying with that tosser.

It is a special kind of emotional suicide to venture to the Upper West Side, under threat of impending thunderstorm, to hear a tortured British soulstress mourn the loss of a lover who sounds suspiciously like your last, knowing full well you'll become so devastated that you'll helplessly expel all your innermost turmoil onto the waiting blank page.

It is another thing to corner me in the women's restroom and tell me about it, in torrid detail, until I must mistily confess my own place at the same crossroads.

Adele, no woman is safe from you.

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The Kills
Terminal 5
Friday, April 29

Better than: The Kate and William Lifetime original movie, in a way.

The glorious bend of the Kills' albums is that they sound scarcely contained: recorded in flash floods of blues-rock jamming, a panicked production assistant chases singer Alison Mosshart 'round the studio as she kicks chairs and hurls glassware. Guitarist Jamie Hince sighs at his extroverted muse, knowing a painting in an attic grows more demure every day, breathing smoky air deeply as he improvises another delta-punk solo. It is a reckless, snarling, forgotten week committed to tape.

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Phoenix/Dirty Projectors/Wavves
Madison Square Garden
Wednesday, October 20

Better Than: Breathing normally

This year, the biggest show of CMJ had the biggest secret to keep.

I postulated recently -- maybe facetiously -- that this MSG bill fulfilled every part of the psyche. Well, the rampant rumors of a Secret Special Guest Wednesday evening similarly tested two broader outlooks: The pessimists lining the dank Lower East Side caves of the afternoon CMJ showcases refused to believe the whispers, rolling their eyes as they swilled their Rolling Rocks (that beer is ubiquitous this week), while optimists such as myself shrieked at the news, were threatened with physical harm if we gossiped beyond our present media-savvy circles (which I did anyway, vastly), and ultimately harangued and schemed our way into the packed arena, scalping comically high-up nosebleed seats if need be.

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pics by Stacey

Ratatat
Terminal 5
Saturday, October 9

Better than: Being in any other throng of 3,000 college students.

For a band of no words, Ratatat still swiftly establish their agenda--they would prefer the crowd riot. This is never uttered during their Saturday show - bassist/keyboardist Evan Mast only uses his mike to mutter "thank you" between bursts of their showy, frothing beats--but it is evident from guitarist Mike Stroud's hyperactive, face-down flailing onto the stage and his filthy pantomiming up to the press balcony. (Hi Mike!) Seconds into their opening bassline, the clinical floor space of Terminal 5 ruptures with screaming and dancing. The barricades separating the front photo pit from the crowd are sporadically knocked over and quickly rightened by furious security guards, like a game of electro-rock red rover.

It's probably dangerous, and it's definitely fun.

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Photos by Shoshanah Tarkow

One heck of a Minneapolis "Musical Super-Family."

Better than: a sax solo, by any other name

GAYNGS is not a small concept. The slow-jammin' Minneapolis collective, led by Ryan Olson, is a rotating crew of 23 musicians that includes Zack Coulter and Adam Hurlburt of Solid Gold, rapper P.O.S. of Rhymesayers, and Justin Vernon of Bon Iver. Their loose, often quizzical takes on late '80s soft rock/r&b are deceptively off-kilter (every song on Relayted, this year's debut, was written at 69 BPM's) and sprawling, sultry odes to who-knows-what--maybe themselves, as Olson has dubbed them "a musical super-family."

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He still gets the ladies. Pics by Vita Generalova.

Chuck Berry
B.B. King's
Friday, June 25

There is a (probably apocryphal) story about Chuck Berry at a 1980s concert that, like most things from the decade, is just crazy enough to work. The single most important progenitor of rock 'n' roll as we know it was backstage before a major concert, feeling surly and noncompliant to the screaming fans outside. In his hand was a sandwich; further south, on his, er, broken arrow, was the mouth of an eager young groupie.

His manager came in, looked down at the little queenie below Berry's equator, and yelled, "Chuck, get out there! Do your show!"

Berry scowled. "Aw man. Can't I finish my sandwich?"

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Karen O, gathering a new tribe. All photos by Rebecca Smeyne

Party in the Garden, featuring the Yeah Yeah Yeahs
MOMA
Tuesday, May 25

They didn't bust out "Art Star" (too self-effacing for the young moneyeds?) but the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' acoustic set was a wholly perfect centerpiece to the regal MOMA Party in the Garden post-festivities. Held in the museum's balmy, beautiful sculpture garden, with jewel-tone spotlights shining off the reflection pond and geometric installations, the fundraising gala feted its 25th anniversary on Tuesday evening with Chuck Close, Hugh Jackman, and an open bar of melon margaritas that had a lot of post-modern haircuts mussed by midnight.

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Let's just say it: Daria probably influenced a whole generation of teenagers more than their own parents. MTV's animated series about a deeply sarcastic girl surviving high school, her meddling parents, her imbecilic peers, and her own misanthropy ran from 1997-2002, and was a cult hit for a generation of outcasts--or, as Daria nemeses the Fashion Club called them, "brains."

Eight years after it went off the MTV airwaves, only to be quickly replaced by a grim parade of reality shows even "Sick Sad World" couldn't have portended, the complete series (and its two made-for-TV movies) was released on DVD today. We talked with Tracy Grandstaff, series writer and monotone voice of Daria Morgendorffer herself; now a Vice President at Comedy Central, her voice isn't as deadpan as her famous four-eyed doppleganger, but her thoughts on teenage keg parties do not disappoint.

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