(Personal reflections
inspired by Beatles songs)
Song: “Martha My Dear”
Album: The Beatles
Release Date: November
1968
Continuing my White Album review song by song, here I tackle side
2. If you have not done so already, I suggest reading the introduction to Fab
Foundations # 4 as a prelude to this entry ( https://pete-gemsandbeyond.blogspot.com/2020/01/fab-foundations-4-going-back-to-white.html ) seeing as it explains my personal introduction to the White
Album on Christmas Day as a young teenager many years ago. I refer to that enlightening
day on a handful of occasions here. The remainder of that entry (Fab
Foundations # 4) tackles songs on side 1.
The White Album is extremely eclectic but for some odd reason I
consider it the most album-oriented of all Beatles discs. That album orientation
also applies to the 4 sides, each of which has a distinct feel. For me, side 2 has gained the reputation of being the "acoustic side". Also on side 2,
animals are flying at you from all directions: Racoons, pigs, birds, dogs. Several
of these creatures even emit their unique sounds in the music. Other sides include animals too, such as
elephants, tigers, and monkeys, but side 2 takes the wildlife cake.
Anyhow, there’s plenty else to delve into on side 2 as well. Below
are some tidbits, based on thoughts that crossed my mind as I listened this
week:
White Album, Side 2 (of 4)
“Martha My Dear”
(Paul). To connect with Paul McCartney’s
melodic virtuosity, you need look no further than the opening piano sequence to
“Martha My Dear”. It’s about as catchy
of a solo as you will ever hear in song, and it is also the perfect
introduction to this predominantly acoustic side of the White Album.
How do you write such a pretty song about your dog? Neil Young’s “Old King” sounds far more
appropriate when it comes to singing about man’s best friend. But “Martha My
Dear” works wonders for me. In fact, it’s one of my all-time favorite Beatles
songs ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXawa90YU2s
) in spite of the fact that McCartney is the only Beatle who plays
any music on it (arguably George Harrison is there too on the final cut - he
was there for at least one take - but this has been difficult for Beatles
aficionados to confirm over the years).
One thing I love about the song is the slow introduction of
instruments as “Martha My Dear” progresses: First there’s the piano intro,
followed by vocals and soft strings, followed by tuba and trumpets, followed by
the first of several bursts of the French horn, followed by guitar, drums and
bass (all McCartney), followed by trumpets and clapping. The last 30 seconds or
so winds down with more strings and some funky bass. All in all, it’s a multi-instrument
baton-hand-off of positive energy.
And yet, whenever I reflect on “Martha My Dear”, my mind always
circles back to that piano intro. It reminds me of the first time I listened to
the song in my parent’s dining room on that Christmas Day way back as a young
teenager. It reminds me of lugging my milk crates full of albums to all the
places I’ve lived in my life: Franklin, North Adams, Ottawa, Woburn, Waltham,
Pepperell. It reminds me of my daughter’s favorite teddy when she was young
(“Martha”). It reminds me of the fascination that comes with discovery and the
joy that comes with knowing quality.
I only hope that dog of Paul’s appreciated it half as much as I
have.
“I’m So Tired” (John). What
better song to listen to and write about just before I call it a hard-days
night (which is what I’m about to do now on this midweek evening). As with
“Martha My Dear”, “I’m So Tired” grabbed me from the get-go. Many of John
Lennon’s songs have a certain moody edge about them that draws me in, and this
one is no exception (it’s the Rock and Roller in me). I’ve felt that way ever
since the needle hit the first notes on that new Christmas turntable of mine.
If “Martha My Dear” is unmistakably a McCartney composition (read: Upbeat),
“I’m So Tired” is unmistakably Lennon in its edginess.
I was well versed enough in my European early-explorer history
when I first heard this song 45 years ago to know that Sir Walter Raleigh was a
key figure in introducing tobacco to England. And so, Lennon’s quip in the lyrics
about Raleigh being “such a stupid git” resonated with me right away.
The line had such a creative improv feel about it, regardless of whether or not
it happened that way. Tonight, as I listen, it still sounds improvisational. This
was the thing about Lennon’s music: It often felt as if he was completely in
the moment, which had a lot to do with his quick wit (another example in the
song is when he shouts “no, no, no!” after pondering whether he should
fix a midnight drink to help put him down for the count. Yet another is the
second time he sings/shouts “I’m going insane!”).
So here we have quite a contrast between the first song on side 2
and the second. It’s a nice one-two
punch of the Lennon & McCartney styles which is what made the Beatles so
successful. Somehow, these 2 songs work
off one another despite the stylistic and mood differences. That in a nutshell
is the majesty of the White Album.
Alas, on second thought, “I’m So Tired” appears to have the
opposite effect of winding me down (which was likely the case for Lennon too).
Perhaps I should cut to the closing lullaby on side 4 as the antidote.
“Blackbird” (Paul). Of
all Beatles songs, I feel that this one connects most with what was happening
in America in the late 60s. “Blackbird” empathizes with black females who were
dealing with the racism and race riots of those turbulent times. I love the
simplicity of this song, including the foot tapping (reminders of Pete
Townshend doing something similar for the Who song “Music Must Change” … in his
case walking with a microphone close to his feet).
What side 2 of the White Album initially did for me all those
years ago was that it gave me a sense for how much artistic latitude the band
members had with their producers and especially with each other at this stage
in their common careers. As with “Martha
My Dear”, ‘Blackbird” is essentially a McCartney solo effort, with no other Beatle
personnel accompanying him in the studio. All four Beatles would ultimately sign
off on the final White Album product however, each knowing full well that the
full ensemble was not there for not just these two songs, but many other tracks
too. The fact of the matter is, how could any of them argue with such
cumulative quality.
I find it oh, so appropriate that this song has thrived with time.
Today’s younger generations appear to have latched on to it, using lyrical
lines from “Blackbird” in their graduation remarks and the like. It’s a
testament to how someone can hit a timeless nerve – often inexplicably - by
tapping into a basic human essence.
This ability to hit a timeless nerve of human essence is intrinsic
in all of us, which was the great “Blackbird” take-home message for me in my
own formative years. Perhaps that’s what the younger generations understand as
well.
“Piggies” (George). Harrison
could get pretty abrupt with his sentiments regarding the material world (see
“Taxman”), which was quite eye-opening for a teenage Beatles fan. Being the
hugely successful musician that he was at the time, I consider George Harrison courageous
in this regard (same goes for John Lennon… see my last blog entry). After all, he is leaving himself open to
accusations of hypocrisy here. I sensed this very early on listening to
“Piggies”. But the fact of the matter is, despite being monetarily wealthy,
Beatle George was always able to dodge such criticism though his actions,
because it was spiritual wealth he was after.
Several years back, I attended a Roger Waters concert which was
super-charged in its politics (and its amazing technical feats). Part of the
show delved deep into Pink Floyd’s 1977 concept album, Animals, which
tackles human failings such as greed, fear and demagoguery. The vast majority
of Animals is comprised of 3 songs: “Sheep”, “Dogs” and “Pigs”; personifying
these three negative character traits, which can occasionally throw world history
into a steep downward spiral. I thought of Harrison’s “Piggies” as I watched it
all play out at that incredible Roger Waters show.
“Piggies” is yet another song on the White Album with a very distinct
sound (in this case baroque), which includes a harpsichord. However, as with
all the other pieces to this album’s jigsaw puzzle, it magically fits. “Piggies”
is the second song in a row (after “Blackbird”) to include animal sounds (which
John Lennon zealously contributes to). This, along with the general acoustic
feel of the song has it fitting in nicely on side 2.
“Piggies” left little to my young imagination back in the mid
70’s. Pompous imagery jumped out at me
then, just as it does now (it helps that Harrison sings the song with such acerbic
wit). It’s never too difficult to conjure up something that’s always, sadly,
all too real.
“Rocky Racoon” (Paul). McCartney
gets center stage for a majority of side 2 of the White Album (5 songs in all,
compared to 2 for Lennon and one each for Harrison and Starkey). At the core of this output is “Rocky Racoon”,
which is Beatle Paul’s attempt at a Bob Dylan-style ballad (I’m thinking particularly
of the song “John Wesley Harding” which was released about a year earlier). “Rocky Racoon” checks in at only 3:33, but
feels longer, which is likely the effect of it being a song-story that does not
repeat.
“Rocky Racoon” is one of those “break you in” songs that Paul McCartney
was so good at, especially for a kid’s mind. Once hooked with a song like this,
you would be hit upon by deeper layers of song texture on Beatles albums, which
all 4 band members would contribute to. But you had to start somewhere, and
usually it was Paul who made it happen. I remember repeatedly listening to these
lyrics way back when and trying to wrap my mind around the story. In hindsight,
I don’t think there’s much to it, but it was intriguing to take in lyrics that
referred to a showdown, a drunk doctor, and Gideon’s Bible.
This song was actually one of my earliest introductions to the
Folk/Country Ballad, which has me thinking that the Beatles either introduced me
to or expanded my interest in a whole variety of musical genera on the White
Album. Along with the Folk/Country Ballad, there was also Broadway Musical
(“Martha My Dear”), Baroque (“Piggies”), Soul (“Savoy Truffle”), Avant Garde
(“Number 9”), Blues (“Yer Blues”), Proto-metal (“Helter Skelter”), Hard Rock
(“Back in the USSR”), British Music Hall (“Honey Pie”), Lullaby (“Good Night”),
Spiritual (“Long, Long, Long”), Rhumba (“I Will”), and Country Rock (“Don’t
Pass Me By”), among other styles.
Combine this genera-montage and the aforementioned layering and
you have both depth and breadth with the White Album. This is why, in the end, this
4-sided disc may end up being the most timeless of all Beatles albums.
Was this the Beatles intention all along? Did they intentionally
set out to hit us from all angles?
“Don’t Pass Me By” (Ringo). As I first read the lyrics and song credits
on the back of that perfect complimentary poster folded inside the White Album,
I remember being a bit confused when I saw the name “Starkey” associated with
this song. It soon became apparent that
this was Ringo’s real last name. I was immediately intrigued. Richard Starkey
was stepping up his game. He typically sang lead about once per album, but here
he was showing Beatles fans that he could also be a songwriter. How about
that!
The best thing about “Don’t Pass Me By” is that it fits right in
with the quality of the other tracks on side 2.
This is what is so cool about this side of the album; all nine songs are
on the same level of high quality. None stand above the rest. It was great that
Ringo Starr could get his songwriter stamp in that mix. As a result, the balance on side 2 is not
only in song quality but it also relates to the harmony in band-member
contribution as well.
Another thing that is great about “Don’t Pass Me By” is how
rhythmic, pulsating, percussive and on-beat it is. In fact, on its own this
song stands as the perfect musical statement to what Starkey brought to the
Beatles. As with every song, album, musician and band I’ve focused on in this
Music and Memory blog site, I pick up on some nice surprises when I pull it all
together and start listening intently (so I can write something of substance).
This year, one of my most pleasant surprises has been in gaining a better understanding
of the importance of Ringo’s role in the Fab Four.
There’s more to it than meets the casual ear.
“Why Don’t We Do It in the Road”. (Paul). John Lennon often gets the credit for unconventional
Beatles songs, and he certainly has a few on the White Album. But so too does
Paul McCartney, namely this one and “Wild Honey Pie” (which is on side 1, and which
I have already critiqued). How’s a 13
year old kid supposed to interpret this song? I’ll tell you how. He pictures himself
and a group of friends drawing graffiti on a roadway under the cover of
night.
Ha! Yeah, it took a few years to figure “Why Don’t We Do It in the
Road” out. Is this what Paul McCartney got out of his Maharishi experience in
India?... a song about watching two monkeys’ getting down and dirty on the
streets of Rishikesh. This reminds me of the differences in opinion between
George Harrison and Paul McCartney on why the Beatles went to Northern India in
the first place in early 1968. Paul was gearing up to write music in a remote
setting. George was there to meditate.
It takes all kinds… especially in the makeup of a grade-A band.
I spent quite a bit of time in the dining room that Christmas Day of
yore listening to my new White Album. I’m wondering if Mom tuned in as I
listened to this one.
“I Will”. (Paul). I’ve
always looked at these last two songs on side 2 as a subset within a side
within an album. At first glance it’s
difficult to justify this, as the two songs are written by two different band
members. Also, the first of the two, “I Will” is about a lover (Paul’s), where
the second, “Julia” is about a Mother (John’s).
The commonality is that these two songs are the gentlest and most
soothing on the entire album.
As I was listening to “I Will” with headphones on this week, I
made out that the bass had a vocal sound to it, as if someone were imitating
the instrument by singing the bass notes in place of the actual instrument.
Sure enough, McCartney is vocalizing the bass lines here, and doing a darn
funky job of it too. I had never picked up on this before. Classic!
The title “I Will” is such a positive proclamation, in similar
fashion to saying “I Do” on the alter. The White Album covered the gambit of
human emotions. There’s never too much or too little of any feeling you get
listening to it. This one adds a touch of love to the mix, which interestingly
is not as flouted a subject on this 30-song album as one would expect to hear on
a Beatles album.
“Julia” (John). A beautiful and heartbreaking song; John
Lennon is trying to connect to fading memories of his long-lost mother. As far
as I can discern this is Lennon’s first attempt (of many) to exorcise painful
childhood trauma. I’m pretty sure I picked up on this not long after first
listening.
Lennon was never one to try and stand out instrumentally on
Beatles tracks. With their amazing musical abilities, Paul, George, and even
Ringo could not avoid doing so on occasion, but for John it was very unusual.
Since he’s performing here without anyone else (the only time he ever did this
on a Beatles track), we get to hear Lennon’s guitar playing exclusively, which
adds a nice touch to his multi-track vocals.
By this time, I was fully immersed in the eclectic sound and feel
of the White Album. However, the fact of
the matter was that I was only on 2nd base. There was much more
ahead. And so, there will be more of my continuing “Going Back to the White
Well” reflections when I tackle side 3, likely in early summer. I can’t wait.
- Pete
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