Brian Wilson spent most of his life revered as one of the great songwriters of the rock’n’roll era, a reputation built primarily on the songs he wrote and recorded with the Beach Boys in the 1960s. Wilson emerged during the glory days of the record business, a time when the composition was inseparable from the recording. He played a crucial role in developing the distinction between a record and song. As the sonic architect for the Beach Boys, he composed the melodies, arranged the vocal harmonies, directed the session musicians, and sought the limits of what could be accomplished in a studio. Some of his greatest achievements, like the mini-suite “Good Vibrations,” found him harnessing all of these skills, but even his simpler material was indelible; pop music rarely is as lovely as “Surfer Girl.”

All these talents are evident in his core canon, the one anchored by such Southern Californian anthems as “Surfin’ U.S.A.,” “Fun, Fun, Fun,” “I Get Around,” “Help Me, Rhonda,” and “California Girls.” These are songs that were smash hits upon release and remained part of the firmament of American culture for decades, repeated on oldies radio or anywhere with sun, sand, and waves. That songbook also includes “God Only Knows,” “Wouldn’t It Be Nice,” and “Caroline, No,” sterling examples of Wilson’s teenage symphonies to God, the baroque ballads and sunshine pop that virtually created indie-pop.

The following set of songs touches upon some of these sounds, but it doesn’t dwell upon the hits, nor does it dig deeply into Pet Sounds and Smile, his two acknowledged masterpieces. Rather, these 15 selections encompass songs that are slightly off the beaten path yet are crucial parts of the Brian Wilson songbook, illustrating his depth and range. This is by no means a complete list of deep cuts and curiosities. Rather, it’s the advanced course, the songs to assist in further exploration of the work of one of the true pop geniuses of the 20th Century.

“Farmer’s Daughter” (1963)

Appearing on Surfin’ USA, the second album from the Beach Boys, “Farmer’s Daughter” finds Brian Wilson testing the limits of surf rock, wondering if it’s possible its aesthetics would translate inland. “Farmer’s Daughter” begins with a lithe, nimble guitar line that quickly gives way to lush Beach Boy harmonies. The melody and the way the voices reveal a romanticism that had yet to surface within the band as of its recording in 1963. The song’s inherent dreaminess was accentuated years later in a cover Fleetwood Mac added to their Live album from 1980. [Listen.]

“The Warmth Of The Sun” (1964)

Legend says Brian Wilson and Mike Love wrote “The Warmth Of The Sun” on the day President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. The cousins didn’t write about a fallen president. They wrote about a lost love, who even in her absence has a reassuring presence. With its besotted sway and blissful harmonies, “The Warmth of the Sun” has a strong melancholic undertow — there’s no doubt the love is gone — but the sweetness of the melody ultimately feels comforting. [Listen.]

“Please Let Me Wonder” (1965)

Brian Wilson claimed in his 2016 autobiography I Am Brian Wilson: A Memoir that “the first song I wrote when I was smoking was ‘Please Let Me Wonder’,” and it’s true that this 1965 tune does represent a shift inward for the Beach Boy. Underneath its delicate, pretty surface, “Please Let Me Wonder” is plagued with doubt, delivered by a narrator who isn’t quite sure if the girl of his dreams loves him the way he loves her. Brian’s lead vocal is quivering and aching, suggesting that he’s sure that his worst fears are true, so he’d rather live in his fantasy. [Listen.]

“She Knows Me Too Well” (1965)

Grouped in Brian Wilson’s memory alongside “Please Let Me Wonder” as a creative breakthrough he wrote in the wake of discovering marijuana, “She Knows Me Too Well” does seem like a cousin to its companion on The Beach Boys Today! The song’s bedrock groove — relaxed, but rooted in rock — plays like Wilson’s worst instincts catching up with him, letting his jealousy overtake him until he makes his girlfriend break down and cry. Here, the sumptuous harmonies of the Beach Boys can’t disguise the ugliness of his inner thoughts, creating a shimmering sense of unease that gives “She Knows Me Too Well” psychological depth. [Listen.]

“Guess I’m Dumb” (1965)

Intent on writing material that signalled he’d grown beyond the confines of surf rock, Brian Wilson attempted to emulate Burt Bacharach throughout the mid-1960s. He finally achieved his goal with “Guess I’m Dumb,” a gorgeous symphony of heartbreak whose aching melody is matched to a barbed, sophisticated lyric. Its self-deprecating words alienated the rest of the Beach Boys, who each refused to take the lead vocal on the song, so Brian passed it along to Glen Campbell, who had been filling in for Brian on tour. Still many years away from his solo fame, Campbell sings with the unaffected earnestness that would later turn him into a country star, giving this a real sense of poignancy. [Listen.]

“Let Him Run Wild” (1965)

Later dismissed by Brian Wilson due to his keening falsetto, “Let Him Run Wild” belongs to a clutch of Wilson compositions from the mid-’60s that serve as precursors to Pet Sounds. Like “Please Let Me Wonder” and “She Knows Me Too Well,” it’s a song about infidelity; the twist here is the narrator is asking his crush to cut her cheating boyfriend loose so she can make her way to the singer. It’s a clever conceit heightened by an arrangement nearly as imaginative as that of “California Girls,” which was the A-side to this song. It’s a widescreen production, accented by percussion, strings, and keyboards echoing through the studio, the spaciousness allowing the song to ascend into space upon its harmonies as it reaches its chorus. [Listen.]

“I Know There’s An Answer” (1966)

“I Know There’s An Answer” was one of the points of contention between Brian Wilson and Mike Love as they recorded Pet Sounds. Love bristled at the song’s original title and lyrics, believing “Hang On To Your Ego” to be too druggy. Even after the singer’s revision, “I Know There’s An Answer” bustles with psychedelic insights. Much of the sense of discovery comes through the music itself. The off-kilter, carnivalesque arrangement, where the clanking piano gets knocked off course by a honking harmonica and ornate harmonies, all tied together with an ominous organ undertow. Of all the songs on Pet Sounds, it’s the one that feels explicitly trippy, pointing the way toward the dense, interlocked Smile. (Frank Black later covered the song under its original title.) [Listen.]

“Darlin'” (1967)

The Beach Boys emerged from the all-encompassing disaster of Smile by attempting to get back to their roots: playing rock ‘n’ roll with an R&B swing. Part of that revival included Brian Wilson reviving an old song called “Thinkin’ ‘Bout You Baby” — released as a Wilson-produced single by Sharon Marie back in 1964 — refashioning the melody into a soul-stomper designed for Danny Hutton, the singer who fronted Three Dog Night. At a time when Brian wasn’t contributing much new material to the band, the rest of the Beach Boys didn’t want him to give the tune away, so they commandeered it for themselves, hoping it’d give them a needed hit. “Darlin'” stalled on the charts, but it’s a terrific single, a spirited Motown salute graced by one of Carl Wilson’s greatest lead vocals. [Listen.]

“Busy Doin’ Nothin'” (1968)

“Busy Doin’ Nothin'” feels like an oasis in the middle of Friends, an album where the Beach Boys are figuring out how to proceed after Brian Wilson abdicated his position as the band’s leader. While the rest of the band struggle, Brian is happy whiling away the hours making phone calls and writing letters. He sets his laziness to a light bossa nova beat, a rhythm so breezy that it winds up romanticizing his reclusiveness. [Listen.]

“This Whole World” (1970)

The Beach Boys began the 1970s by leaving their longtime home of Capitol Records and opening up a new era with Sunflower, the first album they released on their own imprint, naturally called Brother. The band were intent on mounting a comeback, so they played with a precision that reaches a peak on “This Whole World,” a pop song that doesn’t last two minutes. Written by Brian Wilson on his own but sung by Carl, “This Whole World” crystalizes Brian’s worldview: It’s a plea for love and harmony, bustling with harmonies, guitar arpeggios, and sparkling studio effects. There’s a striking lack of wistfulness here; it’s as sweet and open-hearted as Wilson ever managed. [Listen.]

“Surf’s Up” (1971)

Searching for strong material in the wake of Brian’s self-imposed absence from the studio, Carl Wilson asked his brother for permission to include “Surf’s Up,” a song intended for the scrapped Smile. Brian acquiesced, even participating in some of the sessions that finished the song, although Carl wound up singing the lead vocals on the track that appeared on the ’71 LP named after the tune. Brian returned to the song when he completed Smile with the assistance of Darian Sahanaja from the Wondermints in the early 2000s, but the 1971 version of “Surf’s Up” remains definitive. It feels suspended in time, childhood memories rendered as a psychedelic awakening. [Listen.]

“You Need A Mess Of Help To Stand Alone” (1972)

The Beach Boys spent the early 1970s on the road, ditching their matching uniforms and playing to a post-hippie audience eager for shaggy, loud rock ‘n’ roll, while Brian Wilson stayed at home. In that context, “You Need A Mess Of Help To Stand Alone” could be read as Brian’s attempt to give them a rocker. Anchored on a refrain pounded out on a saloon piano, it wobbles and weaves through country-rock detours filled with woozy violins and wandering banjos, but the band always rallies back to the insistent verse, playing with a gusto that proves the title’s assertion true. [Listen.]

“The Night Was So Young” (1977)

The Beach Boys were so excited to have Brian Wilson return to the studio for The Beach Boys Love You that they allowed their wayward leader to do anything he wanted, including writing a carnivalesque ode to “Johnny Carson.” Right in the midst of all this weirdness is “The Night Was So Young,” a sumptuous ballad of love and longing. Especially coming after the careening eccentricities of “Solar System,” the song feels strikingly direct, almost like an intentional evocation of Wilson’s pre-Pet Sounds tales of jealousy and unrequited love. He’s noticeably older here, though, letting his anxieties be soothed by a melody as gorgeous as any he ever wrote. [Listen.]

“Still I Dream Of It” (1977)

“Still I Dream Of It” got lost in the wreckage of Adult/Child, an album recorded in the same era as The Beach Boys Love You. Brian Wilson wrote “Still I Dream Of It” with Frank Sinatra in mind, and when the melodramatic melody soars into its chorus, it’s possible to picture the Chairman Of The Board milking its pathos. Sinatra couldn’t picture himself singing it, though, so Wilson shuffled it off to Adult/Child, an album recorded around the time of The Beach Boys Love You that wound up in the vault (it’s rumored to be slated for release as part of a box set later this year). Wilson’s demo finally appeared on the soundtrack for the 1995 documentary I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times, and it’s rather stunning. Alone with his piano, Wilson doesn’t seem vulnerable; he’s playing for himself, singing with a strength and emotional candor that’s striking. [Listen.]

“Love And Mercy” (1988/1995)

First appearing on Brian Wilson’s solo debut, where it was afflicted by every overwrought production trick of 1988, “Love And Mercy” had a long afterlife, assisted in part by the version he cut seven years later as part of the documentary I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times. Producer Don Was stripped away all the tacky synths, adding some flair reminiscent of Pet Sounds but keeping the focus on Wilson, revealing the song as an affecting plea for understanding whose melody holds its own with Brian’s ’60s classics. Indeed, “Love And Mercy” became one of his signatures, played often in concerts and providing the title for the 2014 biopic starring John Cusack and Paul Dano. [Listen.]

Stream these selections as a playlist: