Fab Foundations # 4: “Going Back to the White Well” (1 of 4)

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “Dear Prudence”
Album: The Beatles
Release Date: November 1968

On the early morning of my first Christmas as a teenager (or was it my last as a pre-teen?) I opened a note under the tree instructing me to “GO TO THE DINING ROOM!”. Any time that Santa left a such a note under the Christmas tree it meant something BIG for one of us– something to be found in another room, the basement, or even the garage - which could be anything from pets to bikes to matchbox racetracks (all set up and ready to race).  On this occasion, my gift was sitting on the dining room table.  I unwrapped it in lightning speed and, lo and behold, a stereo system lay before me, complete with turntable and speakers.  I was elated. Of all the gifts I’ve had the pleasure to receive in my lifetime, it is very likely the one I would use the most. 

Now, no new turntable would be complete without a record to play on it, and of course, Santa thought of that too.  Upon unwrapping, I could see the album was all white; so stark in its plainness that I still recall the moment. I also recall that I’d never laid eyes on it before.  Not soon after, I observed that this was a double album, with cool posters and lyrics in the inner sleeve (see Fab Foundations # 3).  What I was in the early stages of taking in was the Beatles self-titled ninth studio album, which a vast majority of Beatles fans worldwide will forever refer to as “The White Album”.

The White Album was the third Beatles album to be welcomed into the Steeves household, after Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and the greatest hits “Red Album”.  Both of those albums belonged to my parents (although my siblings and I played them as much as they did).  But this White Album was all mine.  My first Beatles album.  In this regard, Santa made a very interesting, and likely under-researched choice.  For, despite its color, this White Album was no virgin, and a far cry from those young, presumably innocent mop tops who burst on the scene in 1962-63.  No, in the ensuing months I would not be incessantly listening to the relatively wholesome sounds of songs like “I Want to Hold Your Hand” and “Love Me Do”. The sounds I would be listening to would be much heavier late-60s sounds. And for as mind-blowing as the music was for a young teen like me, the lyrics were even more so.

I can’t think of any other band releasing anything remotely like the extraordinary White Album. I mean, here was a band that had long-prior established itself as an even-keeled ensemble coming out with an album that sounded more like a collection of solo material (albeit with three amazing musicians backing the given lead guy up).  Who does that?  No band I know other than the Beatles. No band could get away with it except the Beatles.  And so, where all other Beatles albums lead me to other great bands like the Who, the Kinks, and the Rolling Stones, the White Album would eventually lead me to other great individualist musicians like Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Van Morrison, and Leonard Cohen. It would also lead me to the large troth of post-Beatles solo albums after their breakup (being a big reason why selections from those albums should fit nicely into this Fab Foundations series).

Seeing as I’ve so thoroughly enjoyed listening to the White Album all week (a rediscovery of sorts), I’ve decided I need to tap into it slowly.  I’ll do this by tackling the record one side at a time - in order - and spreading my four blog entries out as much as possible, turning to other songs and albums in the interim, but coming back to that White Well each time I get the thirst (in which case it could all be over by the end of February 😉).  I’ll be breaking down my four related entries by song – also in order - jotting down notes and talking points as I listen on headphones. Why do it this way? Well, every one of the 30 songs on the White Album has had an impact on me at one time or another.  It’s hard to choose favorites, but I’ll do my best to pick one from each side (as the given blog entry representative).

Seeing as this album has that solo feel I just mentioned, I’ve added the lead singer (in 29 of 30 songs on the album, also the principle songwriter) in parenthesis after the title of each song, which will help to emphasize my talking points.

White Album, Side 1 (of 4)

“Back in the USSR” (Paul).  Right out of the gate, that passenger-jet-engine was a telltale sign that the Beatles were back in the here-and-now after a year grooving out on a psychedelic magical-mystery-tour bus through strawberry fields with the likes of the Egg Man, Sgt. Pepper and a walrus (while staring at Lucy in the sky).  This song flat out rocks. In fact, its jet fueled. As a teen in the mid-70s it was kinda funny to listen to.  I remember thinking, “hmmm, maybe people can find ways to have fun behind the Iron Curtain after all”.  In those days Russia and other Communist-bloc countries were a big black box, and very hard to connect with or even visit, particularly for musicians and other artists who wanted to strut their stuff.  I well remember the ’72 Summit Series between Canada and the Soviet Union.  It was like a war on ice.  The games in Russia felt so foreign to watch.  Those NHL Stars of yesteryear could have been playing on Mars; it would not have felt much different from watching them in Moscow.  

I had a history professor in college, Dr. Connerton, who once stated that, in order to understand Russia, you first had to understand Germany.  Before that however, you had to understand France, and before that you had to understand England.  And so, the Beatles were at least one step ahead of me in this regard (even more so, considering the amount of time they spent in Hamburg in their fledgling period). Although it’s a bit of a goof off song story, I do give credit to “Back in the USSR” in helping to evolve my worldview.  It made me less Joseph-McCarthy-fueled fearful of that ominous Russian Bear.

Some of the Beatles best backing vocals are on the White Album, including here with the Beach Boys-loving exclamations “ooh, ooh, ooh and dub, dub, dub”, and particularly that magnificent 3-peat “Back in the US, back in the US, back in the USSR” at the 1-minute mark (which I consider the peak-moment of the song).  It sounds like a lot of fun was had by one and all (as opposed to the reputation this album has as a rather tense affair). Oh, and has anybody ever noticed how rapid-fire George’s guitar notes are just after the 2 minute mark (backing “show me round the snow peak mountains way down south….”)?   It rivals Mark Knopfler’s closing guitar riff on “Sultans of Swing” in terms of finger speed. 

“Dear Prudence” (John).  Although John Lennon had already been pushing the Beatles into new experimental directions over the previous few years (“Tomorrow Never Knows”, “Strawberry Fields”, “I Am the Walrus”) it’s here on “Dear Prudence” where he first sounds as he would from this point on (including his solo material post Beatles).  It’s as if he’s been transformed.  He looked it too.  Lennon’s was the individual poster inside the White Album sleeve that spoke to me the most as a young teen, and it’s that poster that would adorn my bedroom walls quite a bit longer than the other three. 

This is one of those rare-gem of a tunes where the music and lyrics fit perfectly with one another. A lot of great songs get it close. This one nails it ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wQA59IkCF5I&list=PLycVTiaj8OI80AsTGjYJAPi7-i8kTH-Bq&index=2 ).  The singer (John) is pleading with “Prudence” to wake up and smell the roses.  I remember thinking way back when that it felt almost childlike in its yearning for clairvoyance through the din for this girl.  It was only many years later that I realized that this was indeed the truth behind the song, which is about Mia Farrow’s sister Prudence, who was part of the entourage that went to India, along with the Beatles, in early 1968 to meditate with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, and who was taking the experience a bit to the extreme (in turn concerning others on the road trip, including John Lennon).

This song is an entirely different experience than “Back in the USSR”, but somehow the one just flows into the other (a pattern which continues to work brilliantly throughout the album).  I love how the fade-in guitar at the beginning of “Dear Prudence” contrasts with the fade-out at the end of the song.  The bass line is McCartney at his funked-out best (he is underrated as a bass player in my mind).  The bridge is my favorite (of many) on the album: Those “Look around, round, round, round, round” backing vocals simply take you somewhere else in an instant.  Perhaps Rishikesh, India? I can’t say, as I’ve never been, but as a young lad, I was swept away from my Franklin, Massachusetts bedroom to some far off land as I listened; that’s for certain.

“Glass Onion” (John).  When I first started listening to the White Album, I had no idea about the “Paul is dead” rumors, or people reading into Beatles lyrics, playing songs backward for clues and the like.  Hence, the lyrics here - which have fun with all that - were somewhat of an anomaly to me.  Still, this was John Lennon, and from having already taken in “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” off Sgt. Pepper, I knew he liked to play with words.  These lyrics would ultimately have me scoping out more of the Beatles catalog, including the single “Lady Madonna” and “Fool on the Hill” off Magical Mystery Tour (both songs are referenced in the lyrics).

“Glass Onion” would extend my fascination with the notion of a solo John Lennon. Yup, the previous song (“Dear Prudence”) was no fluke, and this trend would continue with Lennon’s other numbers on side one…. heck, the rest of the album for that matter.  It would not be long before I would purchase Shaved Fish at a flea market, which is an album of the best cuts from John Lennon’s first 3 solo albums (I was not aware of this fact at the time, I thought it was an original studio album). “Glass Onion” could have fit on that album.   

The drumming stands out here for me; very Ringo-esque. Now I realize why. Ringo quit the band for a short time just as the Beatles began recording the White Album, and so it’s Paul McCartney who plays the drums on the first two songs (“Back in the USSR” and “Dear Prudence”).  Again, the bridge stands out. It’s pulsating and powerful, and at the tail-end, showcases John Lennon’s gift for deep throated wailing (something he shares with Kurt Cobain and few others).

A final thought that came to mind while listening to “Glass Onion” this week: I distinctly recalled being very orderly as I listened to the White Album for the first time in the family dining room on Christmas Day 45 or so years ago. “Glass Onion” will always be the third song on the White Album for me because it was the third song I listened to. No bouncing around for this dude.  In fact, I had no idea as I listened to this song what was in store for the remaining 27 songs listed on the sleeve. What I did know was that I was instantly impressed with what I’d already heard from “Glass Onion” and the two songs that preceded it. This was an exciting indication of what remained. I was beginning to feel like I was unearthing a treasure chest that was looking bigger and bigger with each cleared shovel full of earth.

“Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” (Paul). This is the only song on the White Album that sounded familiar that Christmas morning, likely having made its way onto my Mom’s AM radio dial.  Having a healthy relationship with his Dad may have contributed to why Paul McCartney would occasionally write songs about domestic bliss (read: “When I’m Sixty-Four, “Penny Lane”, "Your Mother Should Know"). This is McCartney in all his positive-nature, glass-half-full glory (which would occasionally irk others in the band who thought at times that he had blinders on).

Be it a rose-colored-glasses song or what have you, “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La Da” fits, both here on side one of the White Album and generally, in the entirety of the Beatles catalog.  Paul’s songs could often be a counter point to John’s lyrical take on life, which was frequently more on the downer side of the ledger (“Yer Blues” on side three is a classic example of this).  This chemistry between the two is a big part of what made the Beatles work and tick and it’s a big reason why the Beatles were (and remain) so incredibly popular. In other words, they covered the gambit of outlooks and moods (when you include George’s spiritual take on life this is even more of a truism). It’s all there combined on “A Day in the Life” …but that’s a story for another time.

I’ve read that Paul McCartney was tireless in his pursuit to get this song just right with endless takes, which apparently led to some consternation in the band. However, this final-released version does not have the feel of being on the edge of frustration/exhaustion (as opposed to, say, “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” which was also endless in takes). The Beatles sound like they are having a blast, particularly John and George. When I listened again to the song this week, I was reminded of the backing vocals, which are rich in spontaneity. Whoever repeats “ring” and “sing” in high pitch just after McCartney sings those words in the lead vocal sounds like a happy little leprechaun (the same high pitched vocal is used to say “thank you” at the end, which leads me to believe it’s Lennon in all 3 occasions, because that closing remark sounds a bit more like him). Also, when Paul sings “Desmond lets the children lend a hand” we hear backing vocals “arm”, and “leg!”. Fun stuff. And then there’s all the “ha, ha’s” and “ho, ho’s” throughout…like a bunch of kids running around a happy home. The only other band I know that displayed this type of fun spontaneity were the Who.

Domestic bliss.  Yeah, why not.

“Wild Honey Pie” (Paul).  Not to be confused with “Honey Pie” on side 4. Strangely this very short song can be addictive. It’s almost drone-like. The kind of mantra you would hear in Buddhism, African drum beats, or Native American pow wows. A wee bit trance inducing. Just the fact the Beatles could get away with this sort of thing on a mass-produced album (never mind side two’s “Why Don’t We Do It In the Road” and of course side four’s “Revolution 9”, both which I’ll get to in other entries) is proof of their uniquely historic stature in the music world.

The Beatles were known to push the envelope on long-length of songs, but here they push the envelope in the others direction, seeing as “Wild Honey Pie” checks in at under a minute.  The multi-overlay lead vocals are indistinguishable to any one Beatle (other than Paul’s “I love you” at the end), which is due to all that overdubbing.  Turns out, it’s all McCartney (I looked it up).

As a kid, I found it cool that such a short, simple song could be included on such a complex album.  It felt like a power-to-the-people statement: Conservative corporate-industry standards be damned! Funny how political awareness can be stimulated from such simplicity.

“The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill” (John).  This is the first protestation I can think of that John Lennon put to song. It’s about Lennon being outraged by a fellow visitor to the Maharishi’s retreat in India who took a side trek while there to hunt and kill an endangered tiger in the jungle (which he succeeded in doing). I picked up on this a bit as a teenager. I remember the vivid imagery from the lyrics (the impact of watching Disney’s “The Jungle Book” as a young boy certainly helped), although Lennon was able to keep the core meaning of the song somewhat obscure in his own uniquely sarcastic and cryptic way (he’d get much more out-in the open clear in his protestations soon enough, starting with “Revolution 1” on side four of the White Album and continuing on into his 70s solo career – which would ultimately get him into hot water with the Nixon administration).

At the time of my taking in the White Album for the first time, I was an active member of of Greenpeace, with Dad kindly paying my dues (I had a Greenpeace-mailed “Save the whales. Boycott Japanese goods!” poster on my bedroom wall in those years). I think it’s a big reason why I was able to have those insights into the songs meaning. 

Lennon shouts “All the children sing” 3 times in this song, and each time he exclaims it in a uniquely different way. I love that uniqueness. The ‘children’ respond each time with the double refrain “Hey Bungalow Bill, what did you kill, Bungalow Bill”. I can hear Ringo and Yoko the most (memorably, Yoko also takes lead vocal for a brief spell with “not when he looked so fierce”).

Who was that masked woman?

“While My Guitar Gently Weeps”. (George).  Ok, this is when the album first takes a musical turn to the very serious, in similar fashion to how George Harrison pulls it off on Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band with “Within You Without You”.  Through his spirituality, George gained a reputation among Beatles fans for asking the tough questions we all must face if we aim to be virtuous (a good attentive listen to “Beware of Darkness” off All Things Must Pass is enough to come to that conclusion).  For example, in “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” we have the lyrics “I look at you all, see the love there that’s sleeping”, and “I don’t know why nobody told you, how to unfold your love” (so sadly true for many of us), and “I don’t know how someone controlled you. They bought and sold you” (also, sadly true), among a few other equally deep lines. Eric Clapton channels these lyrics soulfully well in his gently-weeping lead guitar playing. This was heavy, heavy stuff for a young teenager.

Early on, it was easy to tell the difference between John and Paul vocals. Not so between John and George.  What helped was that all George’s songs were credited to him alone (as opposed to the Lennon-McCartney writing team). I always loved the singular “Harrison” credit following his song titles on Beatles albums. It just stood out and made it easy for me to connect to him.  The Lennon-McCartney tandem credit on the other hand made it more difficult to dive deeper into their individual psyche at first (I would ultimately prevail over that hurdle though).

George’s moaning at the end of “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” is mournfully eerie, putting a final stamp on the fact he’s not messing around here. Harrison was only 25 at the time, which goes to show you can gain deep wisdom at a young age if you focus on the right things.

“Happiness is a Warm Gun”. (John) This song has the feel of 4 short ditties combined into one, much like what the Beatles would master a year later, on Abbey Road side two.  At the core of “Happiness is a Warm Gun” is another Lennon protest, this against America’s infatuation with firearms. This central theme (reflected in the song title) is combined with other far more obscure concepts at the onset of the song which I’ve never invested much time into interpreting (they’re fun to sing along to though!).

Again, I love the backing vocals, these ones offered up by Paul and George.  There’s the “bang, bang, shoot, shoot” refrain, which is splendid, but soon topped with the “ohhh, yeahh” replies to Lennon lines such as “when I hold you in my arms” (you being a gun), “and I feel my finger on your trigger” and “I feel nobody can do me no harm”.  Those backing vocals sound dreamy and twisted, as they should, seeing as Paul and George (and Lennon himself in the lead) are play-acting the role of the gun-toting obsessives they are actually railing against (the type of anti-character play that Randy Newman would soon master with songs like “Political Science”, “Short People” “Yellow Man” and “Its Money that Matters”).   

On that Christmas morning all those years ago, “Happiness is a Warm Gun” would conclude one of the most wildly diverse 30 minutes I’d ever experienced to that point in my young life. It wouldn’t take long to topple though. All I had to do was flip the album over and begin side two. 

Alas, that part of the review/reflection must wait another time. In the meantime, I’m sure the White Well will remain full to the brim, ready at any time for my bucket to dip back down into its nectar-rich depths.

- Pete