If Brian Wilson were still taking stages with Mike Love and Bruce Johnston, would we have been bundling up to go see him on a November night at the Carnegie Library Music Hall of Homestead?

No way. We would have been going to see the Beach Boys in Burgettstown a few months ago, surrounded by thousands of people wearing Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops and drinking daiquiris.

With all the bad blood, though, between the cousins, Love has the band name and the bookings at county fairs, and Wilson, the man who suffered for the music, plays 1,000-seat halls where the vibe clearly changes from sunshine and leis to pop music that feels like it's being preserved under glass. Better, in some ways, for listening.

What Wilson never would have with Love is a backing band as sublime as the one in Munhall last night. The members of his 11-piece band, already a decade on the job, include young hipsters still so high on the fact that they're playing with Brian Wilson, they pay attention to every exquisite detail in his "pocket symphonies."

Wilson, in a black-and-gold plaid shirt and rather stoic expression, was seated center stage at a keyboard that was a virtual prop to hold his teleprompter. But he brought legendary presence, good spirit and that thin, slightly nasally voice perfectly suited to such songs as "Sail on Sailor" and "Catch a Wave." He also seemed to relish a kind of DJ role, introducing songs with quips like "here's a car song for ya" and, before "Sloop John B," commenting, "This next one I do not like the lyrics -- too wacky for me. But I like the music."

At any moment up to eight people were singing, in voices so heavenly, on "Surfer Girl" and "In My Room," it actually brought tears to my eyes. I don't think I've ever heard pop voices so divine.

The best ones belonged to Scotty Bennett, Darian Sahanaja, sporting a Barton Fink look, and guitarist Jeff Foskett, playing the role of the young Brian with a falsetto so tender on "Don't Worry, Baby" and "Wouldn't it be Nice" people almost melted in their seats. Loving the house acoustics, Foskett veered off the set list to lead the group into a stunning a cappella of "Their Hearts Were Full of Spring."

Over two generous sets of Wilson classics -- plus a bizarre opening of "Monster Mash" and rocking encore of "Johnny B. Goode" -- one standout was "Heroes and Villains," the chamber-pop gem from "Smile" that called upon the band's full exotic range of vocal and instrumental chops. "California Girls" and "Good Vibrations"... what can you say? Pure perfection.

As usual, one of the most emotional moments was Brian singing lead on his favorite song, one his late brother Carl sang, "God Only Knows." He was shaky, of course, but the band propped it up, and for his fans, hearing him sing that song was worth whatever cost and hassle it took to get there.

Critics Andrew Druckenbrod and Scott Mervis talk about music on "The Beat," available exclusively at PG+, a members-only web site of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Our introduction to PG+ gives you all the details.