Brian Wilson on the Beach Boys' car songs

Brian Wilson, the musical giant behind so much of the Beach Boys great music, sang at the Petersen gala in Los Angeles last week, and there were plenty of songs about cars and drag racing in the mix.

"We're going to do a series of car songs because this place has a lot of cars," Wilson announced before leading his 10-piece band into "Little Deuce Coupe," "409," "All Summer Long" and "Shut Down."

The band played to a packed house at the museum's annual fundraiser. Wilson's set was surely the most entertaining in the Petersen's 15 years of fundraising galas.

A few hours before he went on, we had a chance to sit down with him and ask him about the background of those great car songs. They came out of a Southern California car culture that was just as strong as the surf culture that formed the other major influence on the band's music.

"Everybody was into competitive racing and stuff like that," Wilson said.

Wilson and his brothers grew up in Hawthorne, Calif., in a house that has since been torn down and replaced by the massive 105 freeway. But it was close enough to the beach that the boys could get there on a bike, and at the time, there were drag strips and racetracks all around Southern California.

Yet, just as Dennis Wilson was the only one in the band who actually surfed, Brian Wilson and his brothers never went to any of the local races. So how did the lyrics so accurately describe drag racing, such as, "My Stingray is light the slicks are startin' to spin/but the 413's really diggin' in?"

"Roger Christian did most of the lyrics," Wilson said, referring to the Los Angeles DJ and producer credited with many of the lyrics on the songs. But surely the boys attended a few nights at Lions Drag Strip, Ascot or Irwindale?

"No, we never did, never went to the races," Wilson said.

Was there a particular car associated with "409" or "Little Deuce Coupe," maybe?

"Not really, no. We just used the name. I didn't know that much about cars, anyway."

Oh, well, another childhood belief shattered.

Regardless of the origins of the music, the end result was a classic part of every American kid's teenage years. And, judging by the gyrating museum supporters on the Petersen's dance floor--the majority of whom were no longer in their teen years--the music lives on a strong as ever.

By Mark Vaughn