Perhaps the most beautiful and poignant composition of Brian Wilson’s late period was the lead single to his self-titled 1988 album, recorded near the end of his relationship with disgraced therapist Eugene Landy, who originally received a since-rescinded writing credit on it.
“It’s a personal message from me to people,” Wilson once explained, calling it “probably the most spiritual song I’ve ever written. … We wanted people to be covered with love, because there’s no guarantee of somebody waking up in the morning with any love. It goes away, like a bad dream. It disappears. Mercy would be a deeper word than love. I would think love is a gentle thing and mercy would be more desperate, ultimately more desperately needed, thing in life. Mercy — a little break here and there for somebody who’s having trouble.”
The song failed to chart even briefly, but it’s had a long afterlife. Wilson has re-recorded it several times, and he uses it as an encore in his concert appearances. It also lent its title to the 2014 biopic. The naked emotion of Wilson’s delivery of the simple lyrics, plus those soaring harmonies, never fails to send them home happy.
The song isn’t covered as often as it should be. The most faithful to the song’s spirit is an acoustic Golden Smog version recorded in 1998 but left off “Weird Tales,” featuring Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy and the Jayhawks’ Gary Louris.
