As memory dims, Glen Campbell plays on

• Tracks include %27Galveston%2C%27 %27Wichita Lineman%2C%27 %27By the Time I Get to Phoenix%27 and %27True Grit%27
• Campbell%27s memory has deteriorated but his musical skills remain sharp
• %27I always wanted to sing songs from the heart%2C%27 Campbell says. %27I still do.%27

MALIBU — "There's nothing bothering me," Glen Campbell says with a wide grin as he parks on a sofa to address his battle with Alzheimer's.

The incurable memory-robbing disease has taken a toll since the country/pop hero was diagnosed in early 2011, yet Campbell remains stubbornly optimistic.

"I'm actually getting along with it," he says, sporting a tan and appearing lean and fit in a golf shirt, plaid shorts and sneakers. "I told it to get out or something. I don't even know it's there."

Tragically, Campbell simply forgets it's there, just as he has difficulty recalling many recent events, including the making of evocative swan song See You There, out Tuesday on Surfdog Records. He has less trouble remembering the classics retooled on the album, including solo breakthrough Gentle on My Mind, pop-country crossover Rhinestone Cowboy and movie theme True Grit, the first country song nominated for an Oscar.

"I have been very blessed with some great songs," Campbell, 77, says. "Jimmy Webb (Wichita Lineman, Galveston) was magical. He had some of the better songs. And Rhinestone was great too, and people really like it. If I don't like it, I'm not going to sing it."

Fresh takes on See You There were casually recorded while Campbell was shaping Ghost on the Canvas, the acclaimed 2011 release that paired him with such admirers as Jakob Dylan, Paul Westerberg and Teddy Thompson. The remakes were never intended for release, but Surfdog founder Dave Kaplan encouraged Campbell and wife Kim to share the poignant reinterpretations with fans.

Campbell, nursing an iced tea as black Giant Schnauzer Kona lies at his feet, turns to Kim, seated beside him, and says, "She knows more about this than I do."

The onetime Radio City Music Hall Rockette, whom he met on a blind date and married in 1982, rests a hand on his knee and tells him, "You recut a lot of vocals on your songs just for fun. Dave Kaplan heard them and loved them and got some creative ideas for new instrumentation, so they're more mellow and laid back.

"I'm so in love with the originals that the first time I listened to these I wasn't too sure about it," she says. "But the second time, wow, I really like this. A great song is a great song."

Until a few years ago, Kaplan, like many Campbell fans, knew little beyond the hits history of "this amazing guy who was in the Beach Boys, played on Danke Schoen by Wayne Newton and performed for four sitting presidents. Those in the know about Glen are in the minority. I want to spread the word. He is a legend, an icon, no different from Johnny Cash."

Kaplan was thrilled when he heard the recordings producer Julian Raymond taped while assembling Ghost, but he resisted unleashing an oldies rehash.

"I knew I could be opening myself up to cynicism," he says. "This (See You There) is probably the last new recording of Glen's voice. That adds a very heavy undertone to the project. If Glen is doing a final salute, what better way than to bring him back to the living room? It's so moving. When you hear Hey Little One, oh my God, if you don't feel that, I want to say 'full refund.' "

Campbell's vocals and guitar were untouched. Co-producer Dave Darling replaced the band's instrumentation with starker accompaniment, lending intimacy.

Rhinestone Cowboy, stripped to voice and guitar in its 11th and final version, ends the record on a raw, plaintive note. An earlier nine-instrument construction, Kaplan says, "was approved and mastered, and then I thought, it's not right, it doesn't honor Glen. I took another stab at it, starting from scratch. I put on just the guitar and said, 'We're done.' It's a whole new song. Everything we did before sounded contrived."

Kaplan's motto during the process: Don't try to get clever. See You There "is a very personal message from Glen to his fans," he says. "It's haunting and dark and uplifting and joyous at the same time. That voice, it's otherworldly."

Campbell rose to global stardom from rural poverty as the seventh son of 12 children in Delight, Ark. His father was a sharecropper. After honing his guitar skills in Albuquerque, he became a session musician in Los Angeles, eventually joining the storied Wrecking Crew, famed for backing stars from Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin to Elvis Presley and The Monkees.

His solo career piled up 21 top 40 hits, 81 charting songs, nine No. 1 country albums and sales of 45 million records.

There were setbacks. Fourth wife Kim aided his recovery from drug and alcohol binges. Sober by 1987, he relapsed a few years later and was arrested for hit-and-run in Phoenix in 2003. Tests during a subsequent stay at the Betty Ford Center revealed cognitive impairment, but Campbell didn't decline until 2010, leading to his Alzheimer's diagnosis.

Since then, as the new recordings have seen Campbell's legacy swell, his world has been shrinking. He spends much of his time at home, a Tuscan-style villa in the hills above Malibu's shore.

"I like to play golf," he says, adding with a chuckle, "You know, make a little money, lose a little money. Get 10 bucks, lose 20 bucks."

Friend Dante Rossi takes him to a nearby course six days a week. Campbell says that while he's no pro, he's improved over time.

"When I started, I couldn't hit the ball with a wash tub," he says. "Practice makes a difference. I feel the same way about a guitar."

He watches Golf Channel and shows like The Voice.

"A movie is pretty difficult because he can't follow a story line," Kim says.

His brow wrinkles at the mention of Ghost or See You There, and he struggles to access names of friends and peers. Yet a bygone era leaps clearly to mind.

"I got to play with the big guys, the Wrecking Crew," he says. "They just blew me away. I learned a lot of stuff from those guys. The band was just super. We did songs with Frank Sinatra, everybody. And if they made mistakes, we made fun of them. 'What's the matter? Can't keep up?' We didn't care how many takes we did. We got paid by the hour!"

He laughs. "That was the most fun I had since being born, the most incredible part of my career."

It was a brotherhood, he says, unlike modern bands undone by friction.

"I know the reason why," he says. "There's jealousy in there. If you can play real good, you don't have to be jealous. That's how we were. We could do anything."

Since the onset of Alzheimer's, only one dark spell has rocked Campbell's sunny nature.

"He went through a phase of being agitated and restless," Kim says. "He couldn't sit down. He was complaining. There was paranoia and suspicion. He thought things were being stolen. Our doctors changed up his meds, leveled him out and he's really content. It's helped us manage. And because of his golf angel, I have time to go to ballet. That's my therapy and escape."

Campbell's musical skills have been slowest to deteriorate. Alone, Campbell can't summon the lyrics or chord progression of his songs. When he visits daughter Ashley in Nashville, her manager T.K. Kimbrell "invites every picker in town over, and Glen still blows them away on guitar," Kim says. "He's amazing and it's so much fun. Contextual memory kicks in and flows out of him."

The couple's three children (Campbell has five others from earlier marriages) have toured with their father since 2010 and pursued musical careers: Cal, 30, with L.A. indie-pop band Instant People, and Shannon, 28, and Ashley, 26, in the alt-country duo Victoria Ghost. Dad's pleased they've followed his lead. And his counsel.

"The more you play music, the better you'll get," he says. "I'd tell them that and it really helped. I sat them down and said, 'Do this, do this, do this.' Where I grew up, I had to look at the north end of a south-bound mule. My transportation was a couple of horses on a wagon. I'd rather play guitar. I wanted my kids to have something a little better."

Ashley values Campbell's creative guidance, but another lesson meant even more.

"His advice was to be as nice a person you can be to everyone you meet," Ashley says by phone from Nashville. His Alzheimer's crisis "changed the course of my life, my career and my frame of mind. As soon as this started happening, I went from being a college graduate going out on my own to being very family-centered. Once you realize you have a limited amount of time, you put family first."

The three backed Campbell on his 2012 Goodbye Tour, concerts Ashley calls "some of the best experiences of my life, and some of the most stressful.

"You could feel love from the audience every night," she says. "At the same time, you never knew if it would be a great show or the ones we called hell shows. It was hell for us on stage because he'd forget or be frustrated and we'd have to do damage control. Even then, people would say it was a great experience. He's given encouragement to a lot of people."

The family works to raise awareness and funds for Alzheimer's research and has participated in producer James Keach's (Walk the Line) documentary chronicling Campbell's struggle, which likely will be submitted for next year's Sundance Film Festival.

The film and See You There add heft to a legacy that was impressively broadened by Ghost.

"I'm waiting for that one," Campbell says.

Reminded that Ghost arrived two years ago, Campbell says, "Oh, I didn't think about that," then cracks, "I have retired!"

Or has he? The Goodbye Tour was not extended "because it started feeling a little risky," Kim says. "We didn't want to do anything too difficult, and we didn't want the quality to deteriorate. Plus, the kids needed to move on. We have been approached by people who want Glen to record. It's something we might attempt.''

Kim adds that the doctors believe Campbell is "doing exactly the right thing. He's doing better than expected. They're amazed at how well he's doing, and they attribute it to him staying active, touring and the music. If he were an accountant or lawyer, it would be difficult, but music is so deeply ingrained in your brain. One music therapist said it works every part of your brain at once. That's one reason it's the last thing you lose."

Campbell's abiding talent "keeps the flame of optimism burning bright in me," says Kaplan, who doesn't rule out future recordings. 'There's a lot of sadness when Glen says, 'What new record?' But when you play this front to back, he's very present and connected. He still has amazing clarity. He's physically strong, he's sweet and upbeat. A week ago, he pulled out the Martin guitar he used on Wrecking Crew rhythm parts and started playing Gentle on My Mind. There's still that powerful performance in him. You always wonder."

Whether his career continues or not, Campbell seems defiantly cheerful.

"I always wanted to sing songs from the heart," he says. "I still do."

And if Alzheimer's silences him?

"I'm glad it happened, basically, because I get to play golf," Campbell says with the smile of a winner.