Fab Foundations # 3: "Sing a Song in Sequence”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “Here, There and Everywhere”
Album: Revolver
Release Date: August 1966

A few weeks ago, I wandered into a rock-music record store in downtown Lowell with my 21 year-old son, Peter.  Yes, I said that right: ‘Record Store’.  The kind you used to find on every Main Street in the country. Nothing but vinyl on the shelves. The old fashioned, turntable, disc-shaped kind of vinyl that any of us music lovers over the age of 50 still has nostalgia for any time we come across such media. This was Rock and Roll packaged in the way it was always meant to be.

Peter was curious and asked me to point out some of the better albums in the store’s inventory. First, I guided him over to the “R” section.  It was not hard to find the large selection of “Rolling Stones” albums. I thumbed through until coming upon their superb double album Exile on Main Street.  I slipped it out of the outer store sleeve and opened the inner album sleeve, showing Peter the song sequence and pointing out how each of the four sides has its own distinct feel (I wrote about this in my Stepping Stones series, # 17).  I emphasized that to connect with the album optimally you need to approach it in this context. It was the way the Stones meant you to hear it. This was intriguing to Peter.

Next, we thumbed through the Beatles catalog until we came upon the “White Album”, which is also a double album.  I pulled it out and opened it up. All the original items were there including the folded poster with a montage of photos of the band members in all their late-60s free-spirit glory.  I showed him the lyrics to all the songs on the flip side of the poster, which was a novel concept back in the day.  There were also the four individual smaller 9 * 11 posters of the band members, reflecting the individuality (vs collective) reputation of the album.  I had those on every one of my numerous bedroom walls throughout the 70s and 80s. Again, I mentioned to Peter the distinct feel of each of the four sides.

We then poked through the Who section until we came upon the phenomenal concept album, Quadrophenia (yet another double album). We analyzed the picture sleeve: Jimmy the Mod on his scooter. I pointed out the Who members in each of the scooter’s 4 mirrors (each representing one of Jimmy's 4 split "Quadro" personalities). We then poked through the booklet, which is a nice photo summation of the storyline (I love the image of the Who coming out of the Hammersmith Odeon in London, likely after rehearsal, and Jimmy the Mod kneeling off to the side).  We then wrapped up with a few other gems, including Neil Young’s Everybody Knows This is Nowhere and Bob Dylan’s Bringing It All Back Home. Van Morrison’s Wavelength album was playing on the turntable by the cash register.  Peter had basically taken a stroll back to his Dads youth.  It was a moment I shall not forget any time soon.

Classic albums are gratifying in many ways (including the analog sound, which is superior to anything digital). Put all the elements I just mentioned together, and what you really have are works of art.  The most important element of all these is that song sequencing I showed to Peter on the Exile on Main Street album.  The first time I ever got into song (aka album) sequencing was while listening to the Beatles Revolver in the weeks after purchasing it (one of my first album purchases back in my mid-teens). I’d never heard of musicians putting effort into this sort of thing, so I pretty much came to the realization on my own.  One of the more interesting storylines about this album was that in those days - the mid-70s- what you would get would be the unique United States version of Revolver, which had 3 fewer songs on it than the British version (Revolver was the last Beatles album that the American record company, Capitol, would mess with).  At the time, I was also unaware of this factoid.  Why is all this interesting?  Let me explain.

The 3 songs that were removed from the Capitol Records version of Revolver were all John Lennon songs; “And Your Bird Can Sing”, “Dr. Robert” and “I’m Only Sleeping” (all three would in turn be added to the fabricated Capitol album Yesterday and Today, which I had also purchased around the same time I acquired American Revolver, and which I actually have fond memories of in spite of this fact).  “I’m Only Sleeping” was removed from the middle of the first side and the others were removed from the middle of side two.

Documentary after documentary and book after book have described John Lennon as not a happy camper in the mid-60s (Lennon himself refers to those years as his “fat Elvis period”), which at times was reflected in his output. All 3 songs that were removed by the American label were rather pedestrian in comparison to much of the rest of the album.  They also lacked a sense of experimentation, and if John Lennon was known for anything while a Beatle, it was pushing the band into new territory.  And yet, despite being in a self-described funk, Lennon could also have moments of innovation and brilliance in that period, which are reflected in his 2 contributions that remained on the album…. “She Said, She Said” and “Tomorrow Never Knows” (if Lennon’s “Rain” were included, which was written at the time, and showcases some of Ringo Starr’s best-ever drumming, it would have easily fit too).

In my mind, the Capitol-Record-version shakedown made the album work better. American Revolver was tight, and the songs flowed seamlessly, which was particularly the case with side two. I recalled this week how in my teens, I would love how “Good Day Sunshine” flowed beautifully into “For No One”, and in turn how the latter flowed into “I Want to Tell You”, and all down the line to “Tomorrow Never Knows”.  There was something magical about it. Oddly, the record company got it right.  Did they actually have someone there with a keen ear?  Anyhow, kudos to whoever made that decision.  Album sequencing being so novel in 1966 (the only other rock musician I can think of who was doing it then was Bob Dylan), I look at it this way: The Beatles got it 90% right and the record company gave the band’s artistic brilliance the finishing touches in a minimalist sort of way.

These days, we don’t have a working turntable to play records on at home (Note to self: I must get a new cartridge for my old turntable up in the attic). Alas, I would not be able to play my old Revolver album to connect with the Capitol-version song order (to my knowledge, the original Capitol version is no longer available in any form, unless you get an old copy). When I fetched the album in the basement however it was, to my slight surprise, a more recent version of Revolver which has those three John Lennon songs added back in.  What happened to my earliest version of the album? I have no clue, but at that moment I did recall having pulled my current copy of the album out once or twice before and scratching my head when looking at the track list. The cd I was listening to in the car all week also had those 3 Lennon tracks. Yet, I wanted to listen to that original album order. I wanted to connect with those early memories of Revolver. On Monday morning this past week, I popped the cd into my car player and allowed my younger self to kick in as each song ended, anticipating the next one.  And so, when one of those 3 John Lennon songs began to play instead, I immediately advanced the cd to the next song. Soon enough, it all fit like a glove and after several play-throughs, I began doing it unconsciously. I had my old album back (which I verified by doing a little research later).

Album sequencing is a dying art form. These days, individual songs are downloaded far more frequently than the albums they are on.  Is this dying art form a bad thing? After all, most art forms are fleeting. New ones enter the fray. I can accept this, although, as I experienced with Peter a few weeks ago, I sense that there will be a lasting impression. This is the case with any great art form, is it not?  If so, the album concept will persevere, even if only on the fringe-artistic edges of our society (I guess that’s me).

One of the most radiant of love songs from Paul McCartney - not only off Revolver but in his entire catalog – is “Here, There and Everywhere” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xdcSFVXd3MU ).  As I listened this week, in the context of the original Capitol version of the Revolver album (song 4, side 1), I was pulled back in, floored by the beauty of the music and lyrics.  As be the case with “Hey Jude” (which I am certain to write about in a future entry) this song fascinatingly appears to channel the then near-future life of his writing partner John Lennon, more particularly Lennon’s soon to be funk-ending union with his soulmate Yoko Ono (where with “Hey Jude” it was already playing out).  All of this is only in my imagination, but when I read the lyrics “but to love her is to need her everywhere” I envision Lennon including Yoko in future studio sessions with the band, or “someone is speaking, but she doesn’t know he’s there" I envision  the ‘she’ – or he for that matter – being Yoko and John, drowning out those around them, including Lennon’s bandmates. Is it a McCartney premonition of what was to come? That being John Lennon replacing his love for the Beatles with a new love (which would factor significantly in breaking up the band). Or, is it simply a generality love song of no one in particular, of the most infatuated kind?

John and Yoko is a story for another blog entry though.  To close here, I’ll briefly mention another memory of this week’s celebrated song on that celebrated Revolver album. At a close friend’s wedding many years ago, the bride and groom (my friend) approached my wife, Nancy and I before their nuptials and pleaded for our last-minute input on what should be the wedding song for her to walk down the aisle to (why they waited this late in the game would make sense if you knew my friend).  Immediately, “Here, There and Everywhere” came to Nancy’s mind.  And so it was. 

Yes indeed, the Beatles are always Here for the celebration, There for the taking, and Everywhere for the moment.

- Pete