Fab Foundations # 17: “L’Angelo Misterioso”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “When We Was Fab”
Album: Cloud Nine
Release Date: November 1987

I was precisely in the right age frame during the 1970s to truly long for a Beatles reunion, which is best understood when you put into context my not having experienced the real deal as it unfolded the decade before.  When the dream officially ended on that fateful December nite in 1980 (when John Lennon was murdered) I was 18 years old.  Those who were at least a handful of years younger than me - the generation who came of age in the 80s - didn't have much of a window to realistically hope for this possibility.  Those who were at least a handful of years older than me - the generation who came of age in the 60s - actually got to experience the Beatles phenomenon firsthand.  I was 7 years old when this seminal band broke up; a bit too young to take the phenomenon in on the fly.  Over the ensuing 10 years, I'd be incrementally making up for that in a vicarious sort of way, but the real deal remained elusive.

Well, when you don’t experience something firsthand, particularly when you long for it (and the window remains open), your imagination can run wild.

I’ve mentioned this before in these blog pages, but it’s worth repeating: Due to the Beatles disbanding when they did (at the tail end of 1969) they will forever be affiliated with the 60s era. Other musicians/bands came to an end around that time too: Janis Joplin, the Doors, Jimi Hendrix, the Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, and Creedence Clearwater Revival all come to mind.  These were all masterful acts, but the Beatles were the cream of the crop. It’s their face on that coin.

I believe that once we get past the political jostling (likely when all those who lived the counter-culture era are no longer around to weigh in) history will bear out that the 60s was a transformational decade for western society. Early proof of this was the 70s window I grew up in, which can well be defined as a post 60s “man, I wish I was there” wonderment era (how many other decadal torch-passing’s can make such a claim?). Some of this was related to curiosity. Some of it was mystery. And some of it was legacy: Should we carry the torch forward? Should we try to build on the ideal of what those hippies started? What was it like to be at Woodstock? How close were they to the Holy Grail?

Again, it could easily be argued that the wonder of it all was personified in the Fab Four. Indeed, that 60s/70s demarcation line would not have been as stark if the Beatles breakup had not happened at just about the same time. 

It’s taken me more than 10 years of blog writing, but I now see that this 60s personification that was the Beatles (and to slightly lesser degree, those other musicians I have written about: the Rolling Stones, Neil Young, the Who and Bob Dylan) cuts to the core of what my Music and Memory musings are all about. Way back when, I wrote that, during the 60s, the music was just another part of the scene. But for those of us going through our formative years in the 70s, the music was the scene. It was central to our lives.

How so? Well, our stereos and speakers were much bigger, better and louder than what the 60s kids had. Our album collections grew and grew. Our car radios constantly blared musical sounds into the night air (nocturnal emissions). Our dorm-room discussions centered around a turntable. Our concert attendance mushroomed. And most important, our music was not only current; it also included much of the quality 60s output too. This was about much more than technology innovations and advancements. This was about supply and demand. It was about priorities.

All of this focus on music during my upbringing has allowed me to capture in word today what I experienced in sound yesterday. My music and memory are entwined, giving me the grace to write about it all.

The hope for a Beatles reunion was omnipresent in the 70s. Rumors of the possibility seemed to crop up routinely. Look over there; its Paul McCartney walking into the Dakota Apartments (in Manhattan NY, NY, where John Lennon lived) … and with a guitar in hand no less! And over here, its George Harrison playing guitar on a Ringo Starr album!  There’s George with John. Here’s Ringo with Paul. There’s George, Paul and Ringo, all in New York at the same time! They’re getting along, are they not? They’re scheming and planning?

There was all this mystique-related aura in the 70s air too. John Lennon was living in virtual seclusion in the late 70s, stamped with the newly designated term ‘house husband’. George Harrison retreated from the world stage; he the former Beatle in most need for privacy. There was Ringo Starr, struggling with substance abuse, in turn shutting himself off from the party scene (he would eventually overcome his dependencies, to the point where his impressive physical and mental state today significantly belies his age). Paul McCartney was pretty much the only one who was out and about; his personality and constitution able to deal with fame far better than his former band mates. Aside from Paul, however, it all had a Howard Hughes feel about it.

And so, throughout the 70s it was as if this entity that was the Beatles had passed on into modern folklore. But the fact of the matter was they were all still tangible and viable. We wanted more. We wanted a reunion. Bring us back to the 60s, you guys!

There were also other extenuating circumstances at play, including the mystery of the Canadian band Klaatu, who sounded an awfully lot like the Beatles. My close friend Pete’s older brother Paul (see Fab Foundations # 9) would have us listen to their music on self-made cassette tapes (recorded, I believe, from underground rock radio). There were no photos of Klaatu on Paul’s cassette sleeves. Were John, Paul, George and Ringo reuniting in secret?

There was ELO doing a great job emulating the Beatles sound too. Were the Fab Four showing up in the studio to help them record?

Saturday Night Live had fun with all this, offering the Beatles to reunite for $3000, with Lorne Michaels stating that the four of them could divide the 3K up any way they like (while hilariously suggesting they could give Ringo a relatively smaller cut in pay). George Harrison showed up on the live SNL set a few weeks later, stirring the pot and asking for his share. Later it came out that Paul McCartney and John Lennon watched from John’s Dakota home up the road, pondering a taxi ride to 30 Rockefeller Plaza. I watched Beatle George that night. A lot of people my age did. Was it really possible? Maybe an impromptu late night reunion after Weekend Update? Alas, it was not to be.

All in all, for us 70s Beatles fans, the dream of a reunion had a 2 prong effect: There was mystery and there was curiosity of what could be. It all added up to a yearning to experience what the prior generation had experienced. Through it all we enjoyed the solo efforts. But the reunion was the big prize. 

I believe this yearning has a lot to do with my interest in group dynamics, particularly in cases where there is a lot of history involved. It’s a big reason why I always found family reunions exciting (and why I can name every cousin off the cuff in my very extensive extended families, including where they place in the oldest-to-youngest pecking order in their individual families). It’s why I love getting the old hometown Franklin crew together (especially when all 8 of us can make it). It’s why I love connecting with my Canadian brethren, as happened just this past summer. It’s why I loved the Who reuniting in the late 80s and Simon and Garfunkel doing so in the mid-80s. It’s why I love the Rolling Stones endurance, as well as Neil Young’s with Crazy Horse. In all these cases my yearning has been satiated. But it never happened with the Beatles.

If yearning for a Beatles reunion in the 70s so stimulated my generational sensibilities (to this day), I’m wondering how much this has had an effect on my generation in general, and in turn how it has factored into our contributions to the world at large over the past 40 years or so.  Are we better in group dynamics than other generations because of that unique yearning? Does our passion for (at least) 2 decades of quality rock music factor into the equation? Does our longing contribute to our Faith? It’s difficult to answer such questions from the inside looking out (although I’m certainly trying). It may take other generations to round out an examination of the key sociological norms that make up the 70s era and how those norms have woven their way into our culture.

You would think George Harrison would have had the least interest in all the mystery and mystique of the Beatles as the 70s played out. But he did care, maybe even more than anyone in the end, which speaks volumes. We saw it on that SNL exchange. We heard it after John Lennon was killed when he released “All Those Years Ago” (a wonderful remembrance of Lennon), and later we would get to hear it again on “When We Was Fab” which was the second single released off of Harrison’s 1987 “comeback” album, Cloud Nine (I was one of many in great anticipation for this album prior to its release, purchasing the record the day it hit the shelves).

Cloud Nine was released on the 20th anniversary of Sgt. Pepper. George Harrison has fun with this and many other Beatles tidbits on the very creative video for “We Was Fab” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AVu6nPTVbBQ ).  Ringo is here, there, and everywhere in the video, displaying his charm throughout. Is that Paul dressed as “The Walrus”? (turns out this was not the case: he’s actually the person walking by the camera, in front of the walrus, which is even better). And there’s also the Beatles road manager Neil Aspinall walking by with John Lennon’s Imagine album tucked under his arm. The most amusing part of the video is when one of the arms coming out of Harrison’s jacket snatches the wallet from Elton John’s back pocket.  Paul Simon makes a cameo too. Fun stuff.

The more telling nostalgic reveal of “When We Was Fab”, however, is in the lyrics and the music. My favorite moment in the song is when George sings “And we did it all”.  At that moment, he sounds so tuned in to the immensity of what was. The song (and album) are also a teaser for what would soon morph into The Travelling Wilburys, seeing as Jeff Lynne is cowriter on “When We Was Fab” and coproducer of Cloud Nine. And so, we finally get that Beatles/ELO connection for real (Lynne would later produce the quasi-reunion songs “Free as a Bird” and “Real Love”, thereby connecting him with Paul and Ringo too). You could say George Harrison was the impetus behind all of it.

The 70s were a very unique period to grow up in. I’m very thankful to have been able to connect more strongly this week with some of the key reasons why. With that, I’ll call it an entry.

- Pete

p.s. “Cloud Nine” was where my 2^nd grade teacher Sister Margert Ester used to say I resided when she lectured the class. At the time I took this in derogatory fashion, which was the intent. Now, I’m thinking… it may have been an oblivious compliment. Thank you, Sister Margaret Ester, wherever you are!

p.s.s. The title for this entry “L’Angelo Misterioso” is a nod to Mike Carney, my Pepperell buddy, who pointed this George Harrison pseudonym out to me earlier this week (for contractual reasons, Harrison had to use the pseudonym to play guitar on the 1968 Cream song “Badge”, which he cowrote with Eric Clapton). Thanks, Mike. Great timing!