The adverts ahead of Brian Wilson's latest long stint in the Festival Hall proclaimed London as the head Beach Boy's "spiritual home". This is where his recent live presentations of his Pet Sounds and Smile albums have been best appreciated. Even so, it was a strange location for the world premiere of a new song suite that fulsomely extols the wonders of Wilson's real home, California.

That Lucky Old Sun was an accomplished collection of nine original songs weaving around the old standard that gave it its title and four animated spoken word pieces by van Dyke Parks, Wilson's wordsmith on Smile in 1966.

Despite Parks's involvement, there was none of the cryptic darkness of classic tracks such as Surf's Up. This was a sun-drenched postcard from the state where dreams come true, unwaveringly optimistic in its portrayal of surfer girls, beatniks and hustlers living in a place where apparently, "even if you're homeless you can do it in style".

It would be easy to sneer at Wilson's naivety, but he has endured childhood beatings and adulthood breakdowns to emerge, cracked but triumphant, with many of the greatest songs of the 20th century to his name. That he is on stage at all, grinning lopsidedly and barely touching the keyboard that acts as his security blanket, is a wonderful thing.

The new songs maintained the familiar warm, multilayered sound of old tracks such as Morning Beat and Going Home rocking and rolling with glee, while Mexican Girl and California Role parodied Latin music and Twenties swing respectively.

The tweeness was forgiven when Wilson paused for a blissful acappella moment and summed up his life beautifully: "At 25 I turned out the light/'Cause I couldn't handle the glare in my tired eyes/But now I'm back drawing shades of kind blue skies." Long may he continue to do so.