“They say I live a fast life,” Beach Boys drummer Dennis Wilson once said. “It won't last forever, but the memories will."

Indeed, with the recent release of Sony’s “Legacy Edition” of Wilson’s 1977 solo album, Pacific Ocean Blue, the memory of the dashing, charismatic, self-destructive “middle” Wilson brother is being reconfigured somewhat by young critics who are discovering the album’s captivating beauty for the first time.

As documented in Steven Gaines’ page-turning 1986 biography, Heroes and Villains: The True Story of the Beach Boys, Dennis Wilson’s roguish lifestyle and romantic demise (he drowned in a Marina del Rey harbor searching for trinkets tossed overboard in a lover’s quarrel) would take him worlds away from the innocent sun ‘n’ fun of the band’s early recordings. A heartbreakingly handsome kid and the only real surfer in the group, Dennis exemplified the ideal captured in songs like “Surfin’ USA” and “Fun, Fun, Fun.” But, like brothers Brian and Carl, he suffered monumentally at the hands of his tyrannical father, Murry. While Brian (the “musical genius” core of the band) turned inward and Carl played peacemaker, Dennis rebelled. Vulnerability, volatility, and substance abuse would plague his extraordinary life to the end, which came in 1983 at the age of 39.

Happy to stay in brother Brian’s mammoth musical shadow for the bulk of the Beach Boys’ career, Dennis concentrated his energy on the bacchanalia that came with stardom. But, in the moments when he was compelled to express himself musically, the results were wondrous. Late ‘60s Beach Boys tracks like “Little Bird” and “Forever” hinted at the considerable talent lurking behind the drum kit. And when the band began to unravel completely in the ‘70s, Dennis turned his attentions to a solo career.

Though it only reached #96 on the Billboard charts, Pacific Ocean Blue received considerable critical acclaim upon its release. Largely written with friend Gregg Jakobson, the album’s emotional heft and stirring instrumentation were unlike anything that had come before it. By now Dennis’s hard living was beginning to show in his voice and, like Chet Baker at the end, there was a grizzled beauty to it that couldn’t have been achieved by any other means. Songs like “Farewell My Friend” and “The End of the Show” suggest that Wilson wasn’t confused about where all this was heading. But his ability to embrace his fate (and even celebrate it) made for a profoundly insightful and moving musical moment.

If you are unfamiliar with Pacific Ocean Blue, the Sony Legacy Edition represents a perfect opportunity to get on board. Along with the album in its entirety, the two-disk set includes tracks from Wilson’s unfinished follow-up LP, Bambu. Long coveted by collectors and Beach Boys geeks, Bambu is a masterwork in its own right. While not as consistent as Pacific Ocean Blue, some of its tracks are shimmering examples of Wilson’s capability.

In all, this collection should do much to cement Dennis Wilson’s place in music history, not just as a tragically beautiful burnout, but also as an artist of astonishing depth. Recorded in an era that valued artistry over industry, it is truly the window to a man’s soul.

Wendy Case is the MOLI View's contributing editor for Arts & Entertainment.