Fab Foundations # 50: “Peace. Love. Understanding”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

 Song: “All You Need Is Love”
Album: Released as a single
Release Date: July 1967

A snippet from a 1987 Rolling Stone Magazine interview with George Harrison:
Rolling Stone: “Do you still think that all you need is love?”

Beatle George: “Yes, absolutely!”

While pulling together my thoughts early this past week for this final Music and Memory blog entry, a personal late-1960s recollection slowly surfaced to the top of my consciousness. And as the week played out, my mind pieced back together that memory; a day when I was no more than 6 years old, walking with my ~ 4-year old brother Joe in the woods behind our rural ranch home in Franklin, Massachusetts. There were sections of that woods where all of us kids were very comfortable and familiar with, but if we veered off the beaten path to the left (in the direction away from our home) we tended to get disoriented. We called this area the “Lost Forest”. It was a dark and forbidding forest, dominated by stately White Pine trees and little-to-no undergrowth.

Most of the time, my siblings and I (along with a few friends) avoided this area like the plague, but curiosity and boldness occasionally trumped our fears for mad spells, and in turn we would make brief forays into the Lost Forest. Each and every time, it would not be long before we would get disoriented and fearful. Eventually, after some trepidation (which probably felt much longer than real time), we would fumble and stumble our way back to familiar ground (or, Mom would track us down and insist we keep our explorations within the confines of our roughly defined backyard). I’m thinking we were never more than 50 yards from the house, but in our mind, when we entered the Lost Forest, we had crossed into another dimension.

On the occasion that came back to mind this week with Joe alone, the two of us were feeling particularly curious and bold, and so we ventured our way deeper into the Lost Forest than we had ever ventured before. As I reflected this week, I recalled the disoriented feeling that crept in as we hiked up and over a small ridge. On the other side of that ridge was a bubbling brook and hanging out beside it were a handful of young adults. Both the guys and gals had long hair, and they were wearing funky loose clothing, which included beads around their necks. The lot of them were sitting around a small firepit with a transistor radio emitting cool music. Several tents were set up a bit farther up on the opposite bank. These dudes came across as friendly right off the bat, and after a brief exchange they sensed our fears of being lost, whereby they guided us back from whence we came.

My world was an innocent and insular one at the time, and so this was my first encounter – both physically and metaphysically - with the then hippie subculture of America. My young mind actually equated these hippies to Native Americans, and in many ways, I believe I got it right. Afterall, they were surrounding themselves with the natural world, while in the process separating themselves from the material world. In essence, they were establishing an environment - however temporary - that would allow them to connect more readily with their true inner selves. Amazingly I sensed all this at a very young age, although I now believe that that association was quite natural for a then innocent mind like mine to make.

As mentioned before in these blog pages, that hippie subculture – of which those groovy cats represented - had a profound effect on those of us who came of age in the 70s, which personified itself in the music we loved. Another way of putting this is, we didn’t toss aside the music that came immediately before us, as so many other generations have done. On the contrary, we embraced it. And, we added to it with our own fantastic dose of profound music. In this way we ended up with a double-decade-barrel of musical potency to tune into. In the past 13 years, I have tried to capture in writing how that uniquely intense musical world I lived in (and continue to live in) has played out.

Every musician and band that I focused on this Music and Memory blog site was originally known for brilliant output in the 1960s, and all of them continued to produce great stuff into the 1970s and beyond (which incredibly includes the here and now for each and every one of them). 

I started with the Rolling Stones in my 2012 Stepping Stones series. As with all my yearlong series, there were 50 Stepping Stones entries in all, and as with all my series, I would listen only to that given musician’s music all year long (in this case, the Stones). Of all my musician-centric listening/writing ventures, Stepping Stones would end up being my most fun one. I loved revisiting life-changing albums such as Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers, Some Girls, and Tattoo You. I loved diving deeper into Between the Buttons, Black and Blue, and Bridges to Babylon (I just realized all 3 of these album titles hit you with a double “B”).  I made the breakthrough I always wanted to make with Exile on Main Street as a top-10 rock and roll seminal album (this breakthrough came about ½ way through my Stepping Stones series, and from there on I had to refrain myself from sticking with the album for the remainder of the year).  Most of all, I loved making observations regarding the individual talents of the seven official bandmembers, as well as their support cast through the years (Ian Stewart, Nicky Hopkins, Merry Clayton, Bobby Keys, Chuck Leavell, etc.). The Stepping Stones series had me realizing that in many ways I was channeling the love I have for all the wonderfully-unique people in my own life through the musicians I was writing primarily about.

Next up was my 2014 Forever Young series on Neil Young; the musician who I have witnessed the most in concert. Here was my first stab at a talent that is known more as a solo artist than as part of a band (the other would be Bob Dylan). Of all the musicians I have ever seen live, it was Neil Young who surprised me the most, hitting me far more impressively than my expectations had allowed (particularly when he performed with Crazy Horse). This was why I included Young for his own series. During that Forever Young year, it was mind-bending to flesh out Neil Young’s second-to-none album-oriented output in both the 70s (After the Goldrush, Harvest, Time Fades Away, Tonight’s the Night, On the Beach, Zuma, American Stars ‘n Bars, Come a Time, and Rust Never Sleeps) and the 90s (Freedom, Ragged Glory, Harvest Moon, Sleeps with Angels, Mirror Ball, Broken Arrow, and Silver & Gold). Neil Young is the most passionate of the musicians whom I love to listen to (which is saying a lot), and I would like to think I captured that passion within myself as I wrote during that Forever Young year.

My favorite band, the Who, were next up; they the inspiration for my 2016 Under the Big Top series. I called the series “Under the Big Top”, because I have always felt I was at the perfect “4-ring” circus as I watched and listened to them over these many years. Who do you focus on? Do you listen to the unparalleled drums in Ring 1, or that one-of a kind bass in Ring 2, or those harmonious wide-range backing vocals in Rings 2 and 3, or those lyrics emanating out of Ring 3, or those power chords also in Ring 3, or that lead singing in Ring 4? Each of the original 4 members of the Who is recognized as top-tier by critics in terms of the instrument he excelled at, as well as his stage presence. But collectively is where the real magic was. That was what I was trying to capture and convey that year: Collective magic. Can an ensemble effort in any endeavor rise above individuality when all cylinders are clicking? The Who also tackled difficult subject matter in their music, including war, schizophrenia, pedophilia, ostracization, and the fear of becoming obsolete. I tried to hit on all these topics at one time or another during that Under the Big Top year. Finally, the Who were my first stab at a spiritual element in my writing. They would not be the last.

My Bob Dylan year was in 2018 (actually, it lasted two years, because I spent all of 2017 prepping for it).  I titled that series “Master Blueprints”, because, among the ‘multitudes’ of accolades one can toss in Dylan’s direction is this one: Bob Dylan leaves breathing room in his songs for other musicians to interpret in their own way. This is a key reason why his music will endure. My Master Blueprints year was one full of mystery and intrigue and unexplained phenomena. I also had the opportunity to visit three of Bob Dylan’s personal cornerstone geographies: Hibbing MN, Greenwich Village NY NY, and Woodstock NY. Through these and other events, I connected with numerous individuals in the Dylan world. All in all, I gained abundant new insight into poetic brilliance, the importance of accepting and embracing change in one’s life, and spirituality. And in the end, I found myself so thankful for living these times with this man.

Last but not least was this year’s Fab Foundations series, inspired by the music of the Beatles. This is where it all began for me (hence the title) and I’m glad I saved this band for last. I had to dig farther back here, but most often, it proved to be easy to find the memories. What was hard was keeping up with the writing. Indeed, I have to say this was my hardest year fleshing ideas out week to week. Perhaps it was because I knew the end was near. Perhaps it was because I’m 10 years older than when I started all this. My core idea all along was to find that youthful exuberance. That can be hard to do when your 58 years old.  I was not going to settle for half-rate writing though. Looking back and re-reading a few of the writeups, I’m happy to say that, at least in my mind, I did not.

Weaved in all of this were the personal stories that were pulled out of me as I listened to the Rolling Stones, Neil Young, the Who, Bob Dylan, and the Beatles. That was the other side of the coin, which complimented the musical side. Stories of famous musicians and stories of friends and family blended together, often seamlessly.  Music and Memory. Yeah!

One thing I have not mentioned yet that I find fascinating about the Beatles was how George Harrison and John Lennon stuck it out with Beatlemania for as long as they did.  You see them smiling genuinely on the album covers and in other photo-ops all the way to the breakup. They are supportive in many other ways too. And yet, the extreme commercialism was against their general nature. I think of John Lennon more in the nature of Lou Reed and George Harrison more in the nature of Cat Stevens….and Reed and Stevens shunned the limelight for most of their careers.

But here’s the thing: At the heart of the Beatles message was a message of love. George and John could not resist this. Nobody could if they were in their shoes. I don’t care what your personality trait is. The end game of love was fundamental and as it turns out, irresistible. And it was awesome. Deep inside, Lennon and Harrison most certainly realized this. Neither of them lived as long as he should have. But George Harrison did live long enough to come around in the end and reconcile with his Beatles fame. I believe John Lennon would have done so too. As for Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr, it’s actually turned out pretty-darned well that they are the latter-day spokesman for the Beatles; both have honored their deceased brethren and the band magnificently.

In closing, I would like to thank all of you who have put time aside to reading this blog. Some of you have been particularly faithful (you and I know who you are), and I am so very appreciative of that. I’d also would like to thank Google, YouTube and Wiki. Google and YouTube are over-sized monopolistic corporate entities, but without them, I would not have had research and imagination at my fingertips (Wiki is just excellent, period).

Most importantly I was a routine seeker of divine inspiration, writeup to writeup, year to year. God never failed me. In fact, for whatever reason He pushed me forward, especially when I felt as if I had nothing to give.

I can think of no better way to close this Music and Memory series with the following video:

( All you need is love Beatles on Vimeo )

Peace. Love. Understanding.

-        Pete

Fab Foundations # 49: “On-line-Blog Writer”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

 Song: “Paperback Writer”
Album: Released as a single
Release Date: May 1966

Well, it’s about time I call it a wrap with this Music and Memory blog site. All in all, there will be 350 entries (after next week’s finale), the last 50 being this Fab Foundations series. A significant percentage of the writeups are over 3 pages long (one of the exceptions is this one), which adds up to ~ 1000 pages. 

With all that writing, I think I’ve taken the concept about as far as it can go.

One of the first Beatles songs I ever connected with was “Paperback Writer”, way back in my pre-teen years. As I listened this week, I began thinking that kinship between me and the song may have been a harbinger of things to come, in terms of this website. In other words, I now see a strong correlation between my early love of “Paperback Writer” and my need to write creatively.

And so, in honor of the Beatles (in general), and specifically “Paperback Writer”, I offer up here an alternative take on the lyrics.

Without further ado:

 On-line-Blog Writer

(sung to the music of “Paperback Writer”)

( The Beatles - Paperback Writer - YouTube )

Online-blog writer (Online-blog writer, writer)

Dear Sir or Madame, will you read my blog?
It took me years to write, I’ve reached the epilogue
It’s based on great music and recall memory
And I hope it proves
I’m a well-established online blog writer
Online-blog writer!

There are many stories there are many themes

But without the songs their all just pipe dreams

I’m a guy who grew up in the 70s

When the music ruled

What this called for was an online-blog writer

Online-blog writer!

Online-blog writer (Online-blog writer, writer)

It’s a thousand pages give or take a few

I’ll be writing the last entry in a week or two

I can add more illustrations if they fit the style

I can change it ‘round

And I want to be an online-blog writer

Online-blog writer!

If you get the concept, you’ve got the inside track
With a good case made, I know you’ll have my back
If you must reject it, that is standard fare
But I think there’s something there
And I want to be an online-blog writer
Online-blog writer!

Online-blog writer (Online-blog writer, writer)
(Online-blog writer) Online-blog writer
(Online-blog writer) Online-blog writer
(Online-blog writer) Online-blog writer
(Online-blog writer) Online-blog writer

(Online-blog writer

------------------------------

Until next week….

- Pete

Fab Foundations # 48: “December 8th, 1980”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “Watching the Wheels”
Album: Double Fantasy
Release Date: November 1980

Today marks forty years since John Lennon’s murder.

There is a strange synchronicity about this sullen anniversary in terms of numbers divisible by 10. You may be able to think of more significant numbers, but here’s is what I’ve got: Here in the year 2020, John Lennon would have been 80; he died 40 years ago in 1980, at the age of 40; his death was 10 years after the Beatles disbanded in 1970, the year Lennon turned 30.

I suppose such ruminations are a defense mechanism from the reality of what happened the night of December 8^th, 1980.

The passage of time takes care of the rest.

Where were you the night John Lennon was killed? There are many of us tail-end Baby Boomers who can answer this question without hesitation. It was our JFK moment. The end of the innocence. The moment when we connected vividly with someone’s death beyond our personal circle of influences. John Lennon was larger than life, and he had just returned to the public stage with a new album after a 5 year hiatus. During that reclusive period, the leader of the most acclaimed band of all time was living his ‘30-something’ years as the first self-proclaimed “House Husband”, putting all his love and energy into raising his son Sean, alongside his wife Yoko Ono. Lennon’s “stepping out” (or rather, stepping back out) into the limelight was such a thrill, especially for those of us who were experiencing this Fab-like phenomena for the first time in a here-and-now sort of way.

And just like that, it was all snuffed out. JFK style.

So, where was I on that fateful night? I was nestled in the rolling hills of western Massachusetts, a freshman at North Adams State College. And like many New England Patriots fans, I was watching Monday Night Football. In my particular circumstance I was doing this with my frosh-year roommates, in the living room of our landlady “Ma” Bette’s off-campus home. The Patriots and the Dolphins were heading for overtime when Howard Cosell made the gut-wrenching announcement. I can still hear his one-of-a-kind voice, which was spot on in projecting the severity of the event: “An unspeakable tragedy confirmed to us by ABC News in New York City. John Lennon, outside of his apartment building on the West Side of New York City. The most famous perhaps of all of the Beatles. Shot twice in the back. Rushed to Roosevelt Hospital. Dead on arrival”.

The game ended for me at that moment. I rushed up to my bedroom and flicked on the radio while in an already-stunned state of mind. Fortunately, I was able to tune into 104.1 WBCN Boston, which was hit or miss in that remote western Massachusetts community high in the Berkshires, a good 100 miles from Beantown. The first song I heard was “Watching the Wheels” ( WATCHING THE WHEELS. (Ultimate Mix, 2020) - John Lennon (official music video HD) - YouTube ) off John and Yoko’s brand new album, Double Fantasy (which was also the first time I had heard that song, period). Man, did it ever resonate. “Watching the Wheels” was the perfect tune to take in at that moment. Here was John Lennon explaining his years out of the limelight in song; the serenity of the lyrics in stark contrast to the horrific late-night news. The memory hits me every time I hear this song.

The next morning, I remained stunned, and so blew off school and drove west into Williamstown in my old stick-shift v6 Lincoln Mercury Capri (my first car).  I contemplated going all the way to Central Park NY, NY, where mourners were gathering by the thousands. I even made my way into the Empire State for a good stretch along the Taconic Trail.  From there it would have been a three-hour straight-shot down Rte. 87 into Manhattan.

In the end, I turned around and just drove and drove in zigzag patterns through the vertical landscape of Williamstown, Cheshire, New Ashford, and Adams, continuing my vigil with WBCN from the night before. The DJs (including Charles Laquidara) had suggested that drivers turn on their headlights – in solidarity with fellow John Lennon fans - which I did.  As I headed back into North Adams after a good half-day of driving, I noticed a handful of other cars doing the same. Ok, mercifully, I was not alone. My radio blared with Beatles and John Lennon tunes. Their radios blared these familiar Fab sounds too.

What was it about John Lennon’s life and death that moved so many of us in the early days and weeks of December 1980 (which continues - albeit to a lesser intensity - today)? Well, for one thing, Lennon was uncompromising, which in his case always came across as a strength. John Lennon expressed this attitude in many ways, particularly when he spoke his mind, which he often did in brutally-honest fashion. One way this manifested itself was how he could be harsh on others (particularly Paul McCartney). But he could also be harsh on himself, and so, this gave Beatle John all the leverage he needed to say pretty much whatever he wanted. Lennon was also witty and funny and sarcastic and charming; all traits that draw people in, whether at the personal level (the other Beatles were all forever fascinated in him) or on the big-stage.

John Lennon was also a risk taker, which was appealing to those among us who have a rebellious slant (ok, me). This was exemplified in his “Bed-Ins for peace” with Yoko Ono in 1969, which were wide open to the public (as Derek Taylor, the Beatles publicist once explained, anyone was welcome “as long as they were not obviously carrying a blood-stained axe”). His risk-taking played out in many other ways too, be it in songs like “Revolution”, “Gimme Some Truth” or “Working Class Hero” or in comments, like “we’re (the Beatles, are) more popular than Jesus now” (which was more a lament than anything).

However, I believe the biggest reason why many of us admired (and continue to admire) John Lennon was because at the heart of his voluminous discography was a message of peace and love. Just give another listen this week if you will to the truth-serum sounds of “All You Need is Love”, “Give Peace a Chance”, “Merry X-Mas (War is Over)”), and/or “Imagine”. These are the songs at the core of my generation’s shout-out to all the other generations – before and after us – who we have had the pleasure to live with over the decades. We were looking for different solutions to the world’s problems, and John Lennon was doling out the answers like hotcakes.

Add all of these traits to a boatload of talent, and you have the recipe for moving the masses.

Two years after my ‘mourning’ drive around the Berkshires, I did finally make it into Central Park, as well as the nearby Dakota Apartments (on the West Side), where John Lennon lived throughout his “House Husband” years, and where he was killed. I’ve written about that incredible college winter-break road trip before in these pages. Here I’ll try to keep the focus on this specific part of the journey.

After an involuntary and impromptu all-nighter in lower Manhattan, my three Canadian brethren and I sleepwalked our way to Central Park. At this stage, I began making a beeline west for the Dakota, and I was dragging my friends along with me. We made our way up to “The Lake”, just across from the Dakota. There we spied an old abandoned rowboat with a small hole in the bottom.  We plugged the hole up with a tea shirt and used makeshift oars (sticks, cardboard, you name it) to row across the waterbody.  This was just after dawn. For all we knew, Yoko Ono could have been looking out her apartment window that morning, shaking her head in bemusement.

After landing the boat, we made our way across the remainder of Central Park West and onto 72nd Street. The first doorway was the main entrance into The Dakota. A bellhop greeted us. He was middle aged and appeared a veteran of his trade. I explained we were there to pay tribute to John Lennon. He stated that he heard this on a regular basis from visiting fans and then told me that we were welcome to hang out in the archway and corridor, which was precisely where Lennon had been killed. We did this for a spell, in silence, and then we moved on.

The remainder of that Manhattan morning is a blur.

The next memory I can recall of my personally bonding with John Lennon’s life and death was in 1988 when I had my wisdom teeth removed. Upon being admitted to the surgical room, I dutifully fessed up to the fact that I had a cup of coffee earlier that day, which apparently was against the rules if I wanted to have a full-blown anesthesia (I kinda knew this going in but was hoping for a bit of slack). And so, I ended up getting a local anesthesia, which allowed me to listen to all the gory details of my wisdom teeth being drilled to a pulp. Later that day, I sat with my sister, Amy, and we watched Imagine: John Lennon, a newly released documentary (at the time) about John Lennon.

As the film lurched forward, toward its inevitable tragic ending, my local anesthesia and additional pain killers were coincidingly wearing off. The combination of the physical and emotional pain was a bit too much for me to handle. The raw emotions related to John Lennon’s death, apparently locked inside of me to that point, came welling out for the first and only time. In hindsight, I suppose it was therapeutic.

Several year later and newlywed, my wife Nancy and I took a weekend trip to New York City to do some Christmas shopping. While there, we made a side-trek to the Statue of Liberty, our first of several trips to that iconic symbol of freedom and democracy. Upon landing on Liberty Island, we passed on the long line in and up the innards of the statue, and instead walked around the perimeter, along the water’s edge.

Once again, I had a destination in mind; this time a frontal view of the Statue of Liberty, where John Lennon posed in 1974, showing his love for a country whose President at that time was trying to deport him. There, we took some photos ourselves, including one of me doing my best John Lennon impersonation. Nancy and I had that photo on our refrigerator for years, next to a postcard of Lennon in his classic peace pose (both images attached). It was yet another effort to connect with the life of a man who I did not know personally, and yet who I felt a strong kinship with.

Until this year, and particularly this week, that Statue of Liberty visit - and the follow-up refrigerator posting- would be the last time I would put any concerted effort into recognizing John Lennon in any deep sort of way. Interestingly, every one of these events I just reflected on occurred in the winter months: John Lennon’s death, my Berkshire drive, Central Park, wisdom teeth removal, the Statue of Liberty, and now this write up. Unlike my ‘numbers divisible by 10’ observation in the opening sentences of this entry, I think there is something to this. Winter has always been a season of ‘seeking’ for me. It’s when I’ve started every one of my 6 blog series. Its when the music hits me the hardest. It’s when the memories kick back in fast and furious. It’s when I have to seize the moment. Carpe Diem.

A week or so after John Lennon’s death, I purchased Double Fantasy at a record store in downtown North Adams. Four years later, upon release, I would also purchase the follow up; John Lennon’s posthumous Milk and Honey (much of which was recorded during the Double Fantasy sessions).  Milk and Honey would prove to be the last Lennon studio release of original material. These two albums were complimentary and filled with upbeat, energy-inducing tunes, which were in many ways the polar opposite of the mood of John Lennon’s first solo albums (indeed the opening sound effects are harbingers of what’s to come in each case , with “Mother” opening Plastic Ono Band with four ominous bell tolls, and “Starting Over” opening Double Fantasy with the soft percussive sound of three strikes on a triangle).   

For an 18 year old, it was pretty-darn inspiring to hear a song like “Woman” from such a respected musician, which, although primarily about Yoko Ono, translated for me as a healthy admiration for members of the opposite sex in general. Related to this was something quite unique to Double Fantasy as a rock album; a volleyball approach to the tracks, with John Lennon lobbing a song over the proverbial net, and Yoko Ono lobbing one back (some of Yoko’s songs were actually pretty good, including “Kiss Kiss Kiss” and “Give Me Something”, Yoko sounding like she could have been a walk-on with the B52s).

“Starting Over” is John Lennon singing at his confident best. “Watching the Wheels” is a convincing musical narrative about a man (Lennon) who has paid his dues to society…and then some. Same for “Borrowed Time”. “Grow Old With Me” is about as lovely of a love song as I have ever heard.

“Nobody Told Me” sounds like John Lennon is ready to contribute his worldly views to society again (which begs the question, ‘oh what could have been?’) by lamenting cultural ambivalence (Side note: The refrain in the lyrics goes “Nobody told me there’d be days like these”, which my sister Amy – at the time of the songs release, working as a waitress -  would modify to “Nobody told me there’d be trays like these” as she cleared tables; a classic alteration that I harkened back to as I listened this week).

One consolation about December 8^th, 1980: John Lennon was in a peaceful place when he died.

I suppose at this stage in the game (40 years on) …. I’ll take it.

- Pete

Fab Foundations # 47: “Self-Made Man”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “Here Comes the Sun”
Album: Abbey Road
Release Date: September 1969

One big take home for me from the Beatles Anthology autobiography is a common thread among John, Paul, George, and Ringo regarding how little each of them gained from their formal education. Come to think of it, this was also the case for several of the other musicians I’ve written about in these blog pages, including Bob Dylan, Neil Young, and Keith Richards. I suppose this goes with the territory: If you are a young aspiring rocker, musical ambitions are likely to clash with studies, particularly if you’re in a fledgling rock band.

I thought about this over the past week as I homed in on “Here Comes the Sun” as my topic-song of choice for this entry. The reason formal schooling came to mind was the story behind the song, whereby George Harrison played hooky on a Beatles meeting to visit his close friend Eric Clapton on the first warm spring day of the year after a long, cold, hard, London winter. There he wrote “Here Comes the Sun”. The Beatles were splintering at the time (1969) and their meetings were as often about business affairs as they were about music. Harrison was fed up, feeling like he was going back to school, which he detested. I imagine he pondered over a morning cup of tea: “a sunny day outside vs an indoor room filled with tension?”.  It appears to have been a no-brainer decision.

I think we all can relate to blowing off commitments for an early spring day in the sun. I recall doing this on a handful of occasions in my undergrad years, electing to skip the elective in order to head to the school quad for some soccer dribbling with a friend or to the courts for a game of hoops (or to the frig for a beer).

One particular blow-off memory was early in my career with the US Geological Survey (USGS) when a great friend, Bob Mainguy, decided to make a last-minute Boston pit stop on his way from Paris to New York City on a business trip. Bob arrived on a Sunday afternoon. We soon connected with another great friend, Mac, and then the three of us promptly headed down to Mac’s cottage on the ocean in the village of Humarock (part of Scituate), Massachusetts.

After celebrating the night away on the breeze-blown deck, we crashed, and a few hours later awoke to a beautiful late-spring Monday morning, complete with the sound of crashing surf. All of us were supposed to gear up for heading to our respective work commitments on that weekday, but this weather and this locale were too special to pass up. One by one, we called into our offices to literally “blow off” the day. We were howling listening to each other. I was last and when the admin person (a great Korean Vet who has long-since retired) answered the phone I said “Henry, I’m calling in to blow off the day”. He said, “you mean, take a vacation day”. I said “no, I’m blowing it off!” (much laughter from Mac and Bob in the background). Henry chuckled and said “well, alright then, I’ll put you in as “blowing off the day”.  (I did eventually chalk it up as annual leave).

Hooky was something George Harrison was very familiar with in grade-school. He did a lot of it in his formative years, often with Paul McCartney (and later with John Lennon too). George was the youngest of the Beatles, and so would end up missing the most schooling when John and Paul got serious about taking the band on the road. And yet, despite his lack of a formal education, Harrison grew up quickly; arguably faster than just about every other rock musician of his day.

In relation to this, there’s a scene in the Martin Scorsese biopic movie George Harrison: Living in the Material World that really grabbed me. One of the many interviewees in the film is Astrid Kirchherr, a lifelong friend of the Beatles from Germany, who they met in Hamburg during their ‘residency’ at several nightclubs there in the early 60s. Kirchherr, who hailed from Hamburg, took a number of priceless early photos of the band. She would end up falling in love with one of the then-Beatles, Stu Sutcliffe, who would die not long after of a brain hemorrhage (Stu had left the Beatles to stay with Astrid in Hamburg after his bandmates were forced to leave the country for a variety of reasons, and so Sutcliffe was with Kirchherr when he died).

Anyhow, Stu Sutcliffe was very tight with John Lennon, who struggled mightily when his best friend had passed away (this tragedy following the death of Lennon’s Mom only a few years earlier). In the Scorsese film, Astrid Kirchherr tells the story of when John and George came back to Hamburg to visit with her around that time. As she tells the story, a photo she took of Lennon and Harrison is presented to the movie-watching audience. It shows a downtrodden John Lennon sitting in a chair (it may have been Stu Sutcliffe’s art chair) with George Harrison standing over him. Kirchherr remarks in the interview that Harrison was very solemn that day and that every ounce of his energy was geared to his compassion for John Lennon and his commitment to be there for him in that moment. She points out his demeanor in the photo, in order to support her claims. I could see this too (image attached).

George Harrison was only 19 years old at the time and yet, wisdom was already deeply ingrained.  

For my next blog entry (several weeks down the road), I’ll be writing about memories related to John Lennon’s life and death (it will be 40 years this coming December 8^th when he was killed in cold blood). Here I’d like to reserve some thoughts on Harrison’s life and death (although much about his life has already been written in these pages, so I will keep it short), the latter of which occurred on November 29, 2001. Beatle George was only 58 years old when he died (my age now). It was the 2^nd of a triple blow in 7 months’ time of deeply-felt events beyond my immediate sphere of connections (the first was 9/11 and the third would be John Entwistle’s passing in early 2002). For myself - and I am sure many others - it was about as bad a stretch as what we are all going through now in 2020.

My recollection of hearing the news of George Harrison’s death is not as intense as it was when I heard the news of John Lennon’s death, most likely because I had experienced another 20 years of life in the interim. My hearing the news was just prior to walking my daughter to school on a mild late-fall day. As the case with Lennon’s death, I internalized that news for the most part. If I had someone to commiserate with at the level I needed, I would have. But that was not the case, which was ok by me. Sometimes the best way to mourn is on your own (although, I must say commiserating was not a problem a few months later, when John Entwistle died, and that worked out too, in a far different way).

Ringo Starr and Paul McCartney visited George Harrison two weeks before his death. By all accounts, it was Harrison who kept the conversation lively, upbeat, and at times, hilarious.  George Harrison has never shied away from death. Give a listen to his songs “All Things Must Pass” and “Art of Dying” and you certainly would agree. In fact, I’ve often gotten the sense that Harrison was looking forward to death (in one interview near the end of his life, he stated something to the effect that his only sad reflection was in leaving his son Dhani behind at such a young age).

George Harrison’s 2^nd wife Olivia Harrison (who he was committed to from the mid-70s to his passing) claims that the brutal stabbing of her husband by an intruder into their London home in 1999 ultimately led to his untimely death (Harrison was stabbed in multiple locations including the lungs, one lung of which collapsed; the official reason for death was lung cancer). That would mean that two Beatles were slain by crazed individuals … a head shaking thought when you consider the fact that the Beatles core message was love. Olivia Harrison comes across as a very peaceful soul in any interview I have ever seen of her, and like her husband, in tune with a solid faith. In another poignant part of the Scorsese film Olivia states that when her husband died, the room lit up in an amazing, spiritually-felt glow. I believe her.

I remember the news when Pattie Boyd (George Harrison’s first wife) married Eric Clapton (Harrison’s close friend) in 1979. What was memorable about this wedding for me was that Harrison played guitar at the reception. This says a lot about George Harrison’s take on life.  From what I have read, the love triangle hurt Harrison to the core, but he was able to overcome that hurt to be there in, what would be for most of us, a very awkward situation. Harrison was able to do that because he was always living in the present, vs the past or future.  He was able to do this because of his faith.

My good friend and colleague, Mike Major (who receives these weekly entries) first presented the modern-day video “Here Comes the Sun” to me early in this Fab Foundations year: ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KQetemT1sWc ). It’s a fantastic video (I only wished I was able to use it for my original “Gem Videos” series 12 years ago), with numerous photos taken by Linda McCartney, most of which took place at John Lennon’s London Tittenhurst Park estate. It would prove to be the band’s last photo-op.  There is also some creative animation in the video, including the Beatles feet prancing across Abbey Road (see the 1:10 mark of the video).

George Harrison was a self-made man. All the Beatles were, really. The four of them overcame the lack of formal education and privilege to become one of the most successful rags-to-riches stories in history. And of the four, Harrison may come down in history as the Beatle who made it happen the most. He did this by finding afterlife in life.  And maybe one could argue, by playing a little hooky too.

- Pete

Fab Foundations # 46: “Where Beatles and Beetles Converge”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

 Song: “Mother Nature’s Son”
Album: The Beatles
Release Date: November 1968

In my decade or so of Music and Memory blog writing, I routinely have found myself maintaining a yearlong running document of loose notes in relation to the musician/band-focus of that given year. Occasionally when I am hard up for an idea, I dip into it. Seeing as I’m on the home stretch now with my Fab Foundations series, the related notes doc is pretty much tapped out. There are a handful of remaining bullets though, some of which have lingered in that doc since the beginning of the year. At this stage, I’m pretty sure that at least a few of these will never see the light of day in terms of fleshing them out (such as this one: “George’s stage fright”).

There was one lingering bullet though that caught my eye this week. It reads “Beetles prints in the movie Hard Day’s Night”. That’s not a misspell (although it would be in any other Fab Foundations entry this year). No, that indeed is a double-e “Beetles” as in the group of insects; one of the largest and most diverse Orders of life in the animal kingdom. Off the top of my head, I’m pretty sure that It’s a term I have not typed all year other than in that aforementioned notes file.

OK, so back to Hard Day’s Night. The scene in the movie that I am referring to is about halfway through, where the Beatles (as in the band) are rehearsing in front of beetles prints (as in the insect). The prints are fantastic and come close to stealing the show for me during that scene, distracting my otherwise regular focus on John, Paul, George and Ringo (and, yeah, Patti Boyd too).

Anyhow, I passed over that bulleted note numerous times over the last few months because it never fit a narrative. But this week a little lightbulb lit up in my mind, because a few lines above that bullet was a far more recent bulleted note suggesting a “Mother Nature’s Son” entry, with a focus on conservation, ecology, and the environment. Could I pull it all together? Heck may as well give it a try….

One of the great fortunes of being a Dad is getting to see what your children end up doing with their lives as they grow up; how they establish themselves in society and in the world in general. Both my daughter and my son - who are now young adults in their 20s - have a tremendous respect for the environment and appear on similar paths to dedicating their lives toward figuring out ways to preserve it. The two of them are coming at it from very different angles though. Charlotte is a biologist, and she is researching the effects of plastics on seabirds for her master’s thesis. Peter is well on his way to getting his undergrad degree in plastics engineering and is already working part time at a small company that has developed a technology which blends conventional plastics with a natural catalyst, essentially rendering the plastic biodegradable.

I envision a potential collaborative between them somewhere down the road.

When I was very young, my parents observed in me an interest in the natural world, particularly wild animals (I believe a key factor in what prompted all of this was tidepools, but I’m sure there were a few other contributing factors as well). The most amazing gift I ever got from Mom and Dad was in 1967, when I was 5 years old. It was a “blue box” of Britain’s LTD wild (“zoo”) animals. These figurines were plastic (go figure) and very well crafted. Included in the set were little-known mammals, such as the platypus, tapir, eland, and okapi. I’ve still got a handful of them today.  Around the same period, I also recall receiving a fantastic series of “Strangest Things” books, each focused on a different group of animals (i.e. “Birds Do the Strangest Things”, “Reptiles do the Strangest Things”, etc.). These books helped diversify my knowledge of the animal kingdom.

Mom and Dad did not stop there though. Within a few year’s conservation factored into the equation. When I was 10, I received a book from my parents called “Twilight of the Animal Kingdom” by Larry Harris, which focused on 22 endangered species such as the California Condor, the Mountain Gorilla, and the Blue Whale. Through this book, I was beginning to understand how mankind can have an adverse effect on the creatures we share the planet with.  Around that time, Dad also got me a subscription to Greenpeace, which I took to heart (one example of this was that for years I had a Greenpeace poster on my bedroom wall that read “Save the Whales. Boycott Japanese Goods”). 

I am forever grateful for my parent’s insights into my childhood heart.

Interestingly enough, the Beatles contributed to my early fascination in the natural world too, and it all pretty much hinged on one song: “Mother Nature’s Son” (“The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill” may have factored in there too). Arguably, “Mother Nature’s Son” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TMMiXjwhODU ) was the first pop song written overtly about nature (although folk music had always been immersed in it). It certainly predated anything from John Denver and Bruce Coburn. Even Joni Mitchell.  The song is almost entirely a singular Paul McCartney composition (in terms of Beatles contributions), with John Lennon helping out with a few lyrics (Lennon was writing a song around the same time called “Child of Nature”, but that song was never released and eventually was rewritten into his solo effort “Jealous Guy”).

Much has been written about the Beatles pursuing spiritual enlightenment when they made their 1968 retreat to Rishikesh, India, with the Maharishi. George Harrison is front and center, seeing as he was already well on his way to a faith-centric life in the years before Rishikesh.  And he convinced the rest of the band to go to India. Also, of the four Beatles, he and John Lennon spent the most time in India that year. And so, George’s reflections (and to a slightly less degree, John’s) are deserving of the prominence they get in that part of the band’s history (which plays out in Beatles Anthology and many other writeups on the Beatles in Rishikesh).

However, not nearly as much has been written about one particular angle on life in that retreat: Harmony with the natural world. It’s that angle that Paul McCartney appears to have had latched onto the most. “Mother Nature’s Son” was written in Rishikesh. By the 1970s, and through to today, McCartney has been championing animal rights and other environmental causes (also humanitarian ones), and it may have all started with the Maharishi in the foothills of the Himalayas. Indeed, it was that eco-friendly angle on the retreat that truly worked for him.

Sometimes I feel as if my family (Charlotte and Peter, along with my wife Nancy) and I have been on one endless eco retreat. The kids have camped every year of their lives. The woods has always beckoned us. An endless parade of logs and rocks have been turned over in search of critters (on land and in water). An ever mounting list of trails have been hiked. We have been blessed by Cape Cod whales, Newfoundland puffins, Nova Scotia bald eagles, Yellowstone grizzlies, Costa Rican coral reefs, Panamanian sloths, Badlands prairie dogs, California sealions, Boston-Harbor-Island golden snails, streambed hellgrammites, tidepool brittle stars, backyard owls, saltmarsh osprey, low-tide spider crabs, riverine crocodiles, desert lizards, deep-sea dolphins, rainforest howler monkeys….

….and volcanic-rim blue fungus beetles. More on that last one later.

One of the most important developments in our lives in relation to eco retreats has been Charlotte’s love of Panama (where she has lived for a fair-percentage of her recent life, and where she has done most of her seabird research) as well as other parts of Central and South America. As a result of her enthusiasm, the rest of us have headed down there to visit Charlotte on several occasions in order to witness for ourselves what she has been so enamored by. We understand now. That part of the world remains a tropical paradise in many locales and is so worth trying to keep that way.

I suppose if I had to signal out one Rishikesh eco-retreat-like moment for me it would be the precious few days we spent in the Arenal region of Costa Rica 3 years ago. The village of Arenal is named after the active volcano that looms over it (which is very impressive in its fumarole steam emissions). There we stumbled upon a gem of place to stay for 3 nights; a pristine Airbnb on the outskirts of town. The charming quarters were enough of a lure, but it was the owner, Eduardo, and the land that were the real take home messages in the end. Here we got to witness someone truly in harmony with nature. In relation to this, Eduardo and his young family could not have been more gracious hosts.

On the first evening there, Eduardo took us for a tour of his multi-acre property, half of which was orchard and farm and the other half of which was rainforest. It was there I saw my first sloth (three-toed), as well as a prehensile-tailed porcupine and a handful of distinct rainforest birds. What impressed me the most though was how effortlessly Eduardo spotted wildlife and how serene he was. The next morning, he took us on a tour of his orchard. The large variety of fruiting trees were thriving. It was like a Garden of Eden.

Later that second morning, Eduardo took us down the road to his Aunt’s property, an ecofriendly-farm. It was a work in progress (i.e. an immense undertaking), but I was immediately impressed by her earnestness to see it through and her ability to attract others to help her, including a professor from the United States, who was there doing hard labor for the summer.  Eduardo’s aunt then showed us a significant piece of property which she set aside for preservation as virgin rainforest, wherein she had designed a trail system. We hiked it and then settled in for a small breakfast and more discussion with her team of workers.

Our experience in Arenal (and Costa Rica in general) had us convinced to head down to Central America to visit Charlotte for a second go-around, this time in her home base of Panama. A “Mother Nature’s Son” moment that stuck out for me there was in the extinct super-volcano region of El Valle de Anton, where a self-described tour guide took us on a 6 mile hike up a ridge line and onto a spectacular ringed summit around the village. After talking with him a bit early on (through our mutual linguistic barriers), I concluded this young dude did these hikes every day, sometimes two or three times.  He knew his natural surroundings and had a solid answer for all of our bio-centric questions, be they related to flora or fauna.

About halfway around the section of the ancient volcanic rim we were on, a large beetle landed on me. It was brilliant blue, with black spots; a type of blue fungus beetle. It looked familiar. Turns out Charlotte, who is also an artist, had painted it as part of several very cool Panama-inspired art-pieces not long before (images attached).  Now, here I was with that artwork steering me directly in the face for the first (and only) time.

The Panama trip occurred last summer, when I was just beginning to prep for this Fab Foundations series, and so I had the Beatles regularly in the back of my mind. As I steered at that blue fungus beetle, I had both Beatles and beetles on the brain: A convergence of Beat/beet/les. I suppose this writeup brings it full circle.

The Beatles “Mother Nature’s Son” sounds just as it should. The song is a testament to being one with nature. This week two of my favorite pastimes again molded into one.

 - Pete

Fab Foundations # 45: “Where Did That Come From?”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “Rain”
Album: Released as a B-side single
Release Date: May 1966

My first 4 years of schooling were at St. Mary’s, a parochial Catholic school in Franklin, Massachusetts. When St. Mary’s closed at the end of my 4^th year (I believe due to financial reasons), many of us students transitioned to public school for the first time. My 5^th-grade teacher was Mr. Carrol, no doubt the most dry-witted instructor I have ever had. Mr. Carrol was quite a departure from the nuns I’d had for teachers to that point. There were a handful of us post-St. Mary’s students in his class that year.

During the first week of class, Mr. Carrol surprised us with a pop-penmanship quiz. After everyone had handed it in, he started scrolling through our writeups, while giving us the occasional deadpanned glance over his spectacles. After what seemed like an eternity of deafening silence, he finally spoke: “The St. Mary’s kids who have joined our school system have such wonderful penmanship. Would you all raise your hands so the class can see who you are”. Six or seven of us rose our hands. Mr. Carrol then stared directly at me and in a stone-faced manner stated “well, there are always exceptions to the rule”.

I chuckle now as I reflect, but that comment set the ground rules for a confrontational year between me and Mr. Carrol (which also contributed to my longer-term non-conformist ways). He had a point though. My penmanship is not something to write home about (pun intended).  It clearly has something to do with the way I hold the pen/pencil. There are likely other factors at play too. Whatever. I’ve never lost any sleep over it.  The inelegant style works for me, and I’m pretty sure it works for most who have been on the receiving end of my writing efforts, Mr. Carrol notwithstanding.

Once in a blue moon though (which just happened this past Halloween night… hopefully you caught it), something consumes me, and my penmanship becomes…. not my own. Indeed, it’s something else entirely. It transcends me. The strokes look eloquent, and flow magnificently from letter to letter, sentence to sentence, and paragraph to paragraph. Every curve and straight line is precise. The style of it all even looks different. In fact, if someone, such as a store clerk, were to match signatures – me vs. ‘Penmanship Me’ - they might be suspect. I’ve never been able to understand how this happens. When I have it, I have it for an entire day.  And then, poof, it’s gone for who knows how long, and I’ve turned into a calligraphy pumpkin again.

I’m guessing this type of thing happens to all of us from time to time; those rare occasions when we feel something or someone has taken over our body, mind, and/or soul, allowing us to do certain things at a level that we are not normally all that proficient at.  Another example in my own experience of this is the extremely-rare day when I feel as if I can jog forever on my routine trek around the block. Another is when I feel in complete harmony with everything around me. Yet another is when I’ve quite suddenly anticipated something just before it happens.

What does all this have to do with the Beatles? Well, as I began preparing for this Fab Foundations entry by watching the MTV-like Beatles video “Rain” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cK5G8fPmWeA ), I thought about something Ringo Starr once stated about his drumming for the song: “I know me. I know my playing. And then there’s ‘Rain’”. And as I listened to this Revolver-era ditty this week (released as a B-side single), I could actually hear what he meant. Ringo’s drumming clearly sounds different, even to these novice percussionist ears. Where did that come from? I suppose it’s the same place my once-in-a-blue-moon penmanship comes from.

In recognition of these otherworldly moments in life, I thought I’d compile a list of some of the most profound musical moments in Beatles recordings. I’ve done this sort of thing with the other 2 bands that I spent a year on for this Music and Memory website; the Rolling Stones (Stepping Stones - 2012) and the Who (Under the Big Top - 2016) (the other 2 series were centered on solo artists - Neil Young and Bob Dylan - and compiling a list like this for them did not make as much sense).

After a solid year of listening to a singular band, you tend to collect an elevated mental list of musical highlights (or maybe even a warped one 😉). At least that is the case for me. With the Stones it was a lot of fun, because there have been a total of 7 excellent full-time band members over the years, as well as a number of other support musicians who had quality highlight moments of their own on the plethora of Stones recordings. It was much harder with the Who, because for the most part it was just the 4 of them (pretty incredible when you think about it), and there was so much to choose from…almost too much.

The fun level was somewhere in-between with the Beatles as I reflected on their Tower-of-Song this week (the Beatles had accompanying support too, though not nearly as much as the Stones). A big reason for the slightly-diminished fun-level of diagnosis (in relation to the Stones) is that much of the Beatles excellence is in the ensemble effort (all 4 of them as one), including the singing and instrumentation. In that light, less individuality stands out. But there are definitely some gems (including the collective).

And so, without further ado, here are those personal highlights:

• Paul’s droning bass on said “Rain"
• Ringo’s drumming on the bridge to “Something”
• George’s bass playing on “Oh, Darling!” (yes, that is George, not Paul)
•  Patti Boyd and Yoko Ono’s angelic background vocals on “Birthday”
• Paul’s opening piano on “Martha my Dear”
• Paul’s opening piano on “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”
• George’s lead guitar solo on “Old Brown Shoe”
• Chris Thomas’s piano during the bridge of “Long, Long, Long”
• John’s lead vocals on his solo song “How?”
• Ringo Starr’s drumming at the end of “Good Morning” (he actually sounds a bit like Keith Moon here)
• John’s chord-changing rhythm guitar playing on “All My Loving”
• George Martin’s piano playing on “In My Life” (which is sped up to sound like a harpsichord)
• John, Paul and George’s hilarious gargling-underwater backing vocals during the bridge to “Octopuses Garden”
• George’s lead guitar solo on “Octopus’s Garden”
• Ringo’s drumming during the John singing parts on “A Day in the Life” (the beginning and end of the song)
• Paul’s bass during the second verse of “She Came in Through the Bathroom Window”
• John’s lead-guitar playing on “Get Back” (yes, that’s a rare John lead – vs. George)
• Paul’s flashy bass run near the end of “Everybody’s Got Something to Hide Except for Me and My Monkey”
• John’s lead vocal on “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away”
• Ringo’s lead vocal on his solo song “Photograph”
• The sounds effects and banter during the bridge to “Yellow Submarine” (“Full speed ahead Mister Boatswain, full speed ahead….”)
• George’s lead vocal on “Something” (particularly the bridge)
• Paul’s lead vocal on “You Won’t See Me” (it sounds like the inspiration for Feargal Sharkey’s lead vocals with the Undertones)
• The golden silence on “Don’t Let Me Down” before John starts singing the bridge “I’m in love for the first time….”
• John, Paul, and George’s triple harmony on “Because”
• John’s eerie Moog synthesizer buildup during the extended instrumental portion of “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)”
• The one-take, triple-lead-guitar-tradeoff between Paul, George and John during the bridge of “The End”
• The hilarity that is the entirety of “You Know My Name (Look Up the Number)”
• Paul’s bass playing on “Don’t Let Me Down”
• George’s guitar work on his solo song “My Sweet Lord”
• Paul’s intense vocal delivery on “Back in the USSR” – with John and George backing - when he sings the part “Back in the US, Back in the US, Back in the USSR”
• The back and forth between John’s “Yeah” and George’s guitar at the end of “Come Together”
•  Paul’s manic “I would like you to dance / take a cha-cha-cha chance / I would like you to dance” on Birthday
• John’s lead vocals on “Across the Universe”
• Paul’s lead vocals on “Lady Madonna”
• George’s lead vocals on “Taxman”
• Ringo’s lead vocals on “Don’t Pass Me By”
• George’s sitar on “Within You Without You”
• Ringo’s drum roll on “Strawberry Fields” after John sings “living is easy with eyes closed”
• John’s guitar feedback at the beginning of “I Feel Fine” (first ever feedback on a rock song)
• The vocals (lead and backing) during the bridge to “Dear Prudence” (John lead, George and Paul backing)
• Ringo’s drumming on “She Said She Said” (another ‘blue moon’ moment for him)
• The “Wall of Sound” that is George’s solo effort “Wah Wah”
• George Martin’s score for Paul’s solo effort “Live and Let Die”
• Eric Clapton’s lead guitar on “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”
• George’s guitar riff on “And I Love Her”
• The banter at the tail end of “Hey Bulldog”
• The orchestra build up transitioned to the singular piano (and alarm clock) entering the bridge on “A Day in the Life”
• John’s piano playing on his solo song “Imagine”
• The ensemble build up as “Get Back” commences
• Billy Preston’s keyboard playing during the bridge to “Get Back”
• George’s guitar solo on his solo song “Beware of Darkness”
• When John sings “Who on earth do you think you are? A superstar? Well, all right you are!” on his solo song “Instant Karma”
• When George sings “You’re asking me will my love grow, well I don’t know. I don’t know” on “Something”
• When Paul sings “Hey Jude, don’t let me down, she has found you, now go and get her” on “Hey Jude” (likely referring to John and Yoko)
• When Ringo sings “The head nurse, she blew in, just like a tornado. When they started dancin’, I jumped off the table” on his solo song “Oh My My” (likely referring to his extended hospital stays with a variety of ailments in his childhood and adolescent years)
• The enthusiasm in John’s vocals, singing “Just Like Starting Over” (having returned to the studio after a 5-year hiatus)

 

-        Pete

Fab Foundations # 44: “What If”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “Come Together”
Album: Abbey Road
Release Date: September 1969

Back in my comic-reading heyday in the mid-70s, I occasionally tapped into a Marvel Comics series called What If, which presented alternate-world comic scenarios such as “What If Spider Man Had Joined the Fantastic Four” and “What If the Hulk Had the Brain of Bruce Banner”.  It was a hit-or-miss series, and I’m thinking now that What If was probably more fun for the writers than the readers. Afterall, they got to break out of the normal constraints of their storylines with farfetched plots that otherwise would not have made it past the editor’s cutting-room floors.

In this light, I thought I’d have a bit of fun with a “What If” scenario of the Fab variety, that being…. What If the Beatles did not breakup? What would their next album have sounded like? And the one after that? Which of the 3 principle songwriters would have soared the most during their early-70s collaborative efforts? Would they have welcomed more guest musicians into the studio, as the Stones did regularly in the early 70s?  Would they eventually have toured again? Would John Lennon, George Harrison and Ringo Starr have ended up agreeing with Paul McCartney that businessman Alan Klein was no good for them? Would they have ever found another personal manager to replace Brian Epstein?

Surely, many of the early-70’s Beatles songs would have been familiar ones, from what we know of their immediate post-Beatle solo works….

After the success of “Something” and “Here Comes the Sun”, I am of the belief that George Harrison would have been given significantly more songwriting latitude had they ventured back into the studio after Abbey Road (which would have been a very important factor in the Beatles staying together). Beatle George had a boatload of material ready for the band, and much of it ended up on his 1970 solo album All Things Must Pass. If it had been on a Beatles album, “What is Life” would have had a George Martin production touch instead of a Phil Spector one. “My Sweet Lord” would have sounded more Beatlesy too, perhaps benefitting from a melodic bass riff from Paul McCartney and/or fancy rhythm guitar chords from John Lennon. Same for “Beware of Darkness” and “All Things Must Pass”.  I’m sure that Harrison would have been open to added instrumental and melodic flavor, if for no other reason than that he knew these bandmates/friends well, and knew they delivered.

John Lennon’s “Jealous Guy” would have likely been on that first 70’s Beatles album too (seeing as the music was originally slated as “Child of Nature” for the White Album, and so it was just a matter of time). Same for “Give Peace a Chance” and “Instant Karma”. Paul McCartney would have likely contributed “Uncle Albert” and “Maybe I’m Amazed” (Beatle Paul, first pulling off a classic Mother’s Day song – “Your Mother Should Know” and then a top notch birthday song – “Birthday” - now hitting it on the head with the penultimate wedding-dance song).

All of this music would have evolved in different ways than how we hear it today. The album title? How about “Beat(les) Poetry”, with the cover a cool artistic rendering of the band working together in the studio (rendered by none other than Klaus Voormann; he of Revolver cover fame, as well as a Beatles “insider”).

Within the context of a continued collaborative effort, all four Beatles would have gotten even better at writing individually, and more importantly, as a group. And so, they decide to release their songs here-forth as “Lennon, McCartney, Harrison, and Starkey”.  Several singles are penned to promote this new song-credit status, including an amazing sequel to “Strawberry Fields Forever” called “Bed Cred”; an entwined experience of each band member’s adolescent years put to music (most prominent Ringo Starr, who spent much of his youth in a hospital bed with a variety of ailments).

The Concert for Bangladesh would have been the real Beatles live-reunion event, trumping the Let It Be Rooftop performance in more ways than one. At that “Biggest Charity Event Of All Time” (which is forced to move from Madison Square Garden to Max Yasgur’s Farm due to intense ticket demand), the band plays mostly songs from their new Beat(les) Poetry album, with Bob Dylan joining the Fab Four for an extended jam on “If Not for You” (which the Beatles had just recently covered on Beat(les) Poetry). Highlights of the show include John Lennon singing “Across the Universe”; a George Harrison lead on “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”; and Paul McCartney tackling “Yesterday”. Ringo Starr gets the crowd on their feet with “Octopuses Garden”.

Along with John and Yoko’s “Bed-Ins” and “Bag-Ins”, the other Beatles would have also put individual and collective efforts into the anti-Vietnam-War peace movement. The highlight of this endeavor?... they somehow pull off a hush-hush live event in front of the Statue of Liberty (in cahoots with several National Park Service staffers). Oh, to be a lucky tourist on Liberty Island that day. A number of celebrity-types are in the know and make it to the island incognito, including Eric Clapton, Coretta Scott King, Marvin Gaye, Harry Belafonte, Eartha Kitt, Joan Baez, Tommy Smothers and Muhammed Ali.  Each of them takes a turn at the microphone as the band runs through an extreme-extended version of “Give Peace a Chance”, with cameras rolling. Another highlight is the entire ensemble singing “All You Need Is Love”, with the cameras at one moment zooming in on the Statue of Liberty quote “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free”. By the time authorities reach the island to address the “disturbance”, the gig is over. Mission accomplished.

A second early-1970’s Beatles album would have included Ringo Starr’s “Photograph” and “It Don’t Come Easy”. Paul McCartney would have contributed “Band on the Run”, “Let Me Roll It” and “Jet”. A cornerstone song would have been John Lennon’s “Imagine”. George Harrison’s “Isn’t It a Pity” and “Give Me Love (Give Me Peace on Earth)” would be other big-ticket-items on that big-ticket album (all songs, of course, credited to “Lennon, McCartney, Harrison, and Starkey”). The album title would have been either Band on the Run or Imagine. The cover would have been a photo of the band on the beach near Paul McCartney’s Mull of Kintyre estate in Scotland (where the album is recorded).

One thing I contemplated this week was how this alternate-reality of the Beatles staying power (into the 70s) would have affected their contemporaries. Would they have been emboldened or intimidated?  Some of the best Rock music of all time came out within a few years after the Beatles broke up. The Who released Who’s Next and Quadrophenia. The Rolling Stones released Sticky Fingers and Exile on Main Street.  Pink Floyd came out with Dark Side of the Moon.  Neil Young came out with Everybody Knows this is Nowhere and Harvest. David Bowie released The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. Joni Mitchell released Blue. Marvin Gaye unveiled What’s Going On. Most critics would agree that these were the best albums these artists ever produced. Could the vacuum left by the Beatles breakup have had anything to do with it? Would the Beatles alternate-reality staying-power have factored into the results of any of these albums?

If there is a song that may give a hint of what could have been, it is “Come Together”.  This was a new sound for the Beatles and pop music when it was released on their last produced album, Abbey Road, in 1969. Every band member stepped to the plate to make it happen. Paul McCartney’s bass is funky throughout. Same for Ringo’s drumming. The lyrics are as good as any Beatles lyrics to sing along to. And I love the give and take of John Lennon’s lead vocal off George Harrison’s lead guitar at the end of the song.

The Beatles, via Apple Films and other channels, continue to release modern videos of their compositions. A great animated one is “Come Together”, with the Fab Four at their Zen-like best.  I’d like to think this is where the Beatles could have been mentally had they persisted into the 70s. Check it out: ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=45cYwDMibGo ).

I have no doubt the Beatles would have further evolved, in similar fashion to the way their contemporaries did. The 70’s were the Fab Four’s oyster (at least up to the point of the Punk movement) if they could have hung in there.  But the reality of what played out is not too shabby either. The Beatles helped to launch a musical revolution. It’s almost as if, at the end of the 60’s, they handed the car keys off to the up-and-comers and subliminally/sublimely said “ok, kid, your turn to drive”.

The kid(s) drove all right. It may not have been perfect. It may have had the Beatles in the passenger seat, slamming on the desperately-wanted break pad at times, or steering the imaginary wheel. But in the end, much of it was REAL, which was what the Beatles were. That early-70s period certainly worked for me. Perhaps there could have been a better scenario, such as the Beatles remaining together. But isn’t that the case for any historical possibility? Isn’t there a “What If” scenario in any grand event? In the end, you just have to accept what played out, and look at the positives for inspiration. It sure can be fun to “imagine” though.

If not for John Lennon’s passing, I think the Beatles would have reunited eventually. They had too much love between them not to do so. We all witnessed it. We all had a sense that it was bound to happen again.

 - Pete