Last night, I was in the company of one of pop music’s undisputed geniuses: I sat two rows behind Chesney Hawkes at a Brian Wilson concert.

Good old Brian was there, too, of course, rattling through the hits from his 40-year career as chief songwriter in The Beach Boys.

Now a silver-haired 67, Wilson came to the Roundhouse with no new album to promote; he’s simply playing for the fun, fun, fun of it.

And there was plenty to be had in his 38-song, two-set show. From the womb-like loveliness of In My Room to the surf guitars of California Girls, via the near-gospel of Soul Searchin’ and the boogie-woogie piano of Sail On Sailor, this was a life-affirming joy.

While it was Wilson’s music and lyrics that we sang along to, it was the 10-piece band described by Sir Paul McCartney as “the best touring group in the world” that carried the performance.
Guitarist, long-time collaborator and Tony Soprano lookalike, Jeffrey Foskett, took responsibility for the soaring falsettos on Don’t Worry Baby and Wouldn’t It Be Nice, with the others musicians providing pitch-perfect harmonies throughout.

Wilson, who sat motionless at his piano aside from the occasional bit of conducting with his left arm, saved his best vocal for a tender rendition of God Only Knows. Introduced by its author as “a beautiful song”, it received the standing ovation that pop perfection deserves.

There were more treats in store, too, for a crowd that spanned swinging Sixtysomethings to trendy teenagers. Treats such as the avante‑garde genius of Good Vibrations, the rollicking rock’n’roll of Help Me Rhonda and the sun‑kissed pop of Surfin’ USA.

By the time Love and Mercy brought the show to its poignant finish, nearly two-and-a-half hours after it began, even Chesney had to admit that it’s Brian who is truly the one and only.