(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)
Song: “Nobody Loves You (When You’re
Down and Out)”
Album: Walls and Bridges
Release Date: September 1974
I have listened to a wide spectrum of Beatles music in my lifetime, including much of their solo material. However, I must admit that my explorations into the Fab’s vast song-composition catalog falls far short of being comprehensive (although I do believe I am pretty darn close to comprehensive in relation to the band’s pre-breakup ensemble years). Indeed, a fair percentage of their post-Beatles material has passed me by to date, which I consider a significant piece of the Fab puzzle. In my defense, there is a lot out there. John Lennon produced 10 studio albums after the Beatles broke up. George Harrison produced 12. Paul McCartney’s output is at 25 and counting. Ringo Starr’s output stands at 18. That’s a boatload of music to take in.
And so, here begins a four-part sub-series of this Fab Foundations narrative where I tackle some of the unheard-until-now stuff. I’ve done this with all four of my other Music and Memory series (which are based on the music of the Rolling Stones, Neil Young, the Who, and Bob Dylan respectively), but this one has a somewhat unique feel to it. I mean, aren’t we Baby Boomers supposed to know all of the Beatles music, be those songs produced collectively or separately (in which case, they would often request assistance from one another)? I exaggerate here, but there is a bit of truth to that query based on the fact that John, Paul, George and Ringo were, for all intents and purposes, the pop-music spokesmen of our generation. For me, this truism gives these new/old song discoveries from their collective catalog a bit more of a “wow” factor (and as I’ve stated before in these pages, for whatever reason, I love squirreling away unheard music for future consumption, which is playing out now).
As always, I approach this discovery process from the album perspective. I’ve already done my homework, reading up on music-critic reviews to determine which elusive-to-these-ears discs to be the crème of the crop. Now that those discs have been scoped out and secured, I’m ready to roll. Over the next four weeks, I’ll be listening to one album from each of the Fab Four’s solo output that I have never listened to before (to my knowledge). My hope is that I can gain some new insight into the brilliance of what made this foursome tick, as well as what allowed them to connect so amazingly with the world – particularly my 1970’s teenage world - in such profound ways.
I will start with John Lennon, declaring right off that this 4-part-sub-series concept is hardest with this renowned musician, because of the four Beatles, I’ve listened to just about everything Lennon has produced. And yet, there is one significant solo album of John Lennon’s that has slipped through my fingers: Walls and Bridges, which was released in 1974. Several originals on this album were very familiar as I listened this week, including “Whatever Gets You Through the Night” and “# 9 Dream”, but much of the remainder of Walls and Bridges was new to me. I found this hard to believe, but hey, them’s the facts. Part of me was ecstatic though: New music? …John Lennon? …. Yeah!
First, I’d like to say something about the album cover. It’s adorned with John Lennon drawings from his childhood. As I scanned earlier this week, one drawing caught my eye. It’s the lower half of a man’s face which has an uncanny resemblance to what Bob Dylan looks like today. I throw this in here mostly as a side note, but I just had to get it out there.
Much of Walls and Bridges was written near the tail end of John Lennon’s “Lost Weekend” (which lasted more than a year); a period of time where he was estranged from his wife Yoko Ono and their New York home, living fast and hard on the opposite shore (California) with fellow party-hearty enthusiasts, including Harry Nilsson, Alice Cooper, Keith Moon, Ringo Starr and Micky Dolenz (what’s with all the drummers?). A then modern-day Rat Pack. A motley crew prepared to bring down any club that made the unfortunate decision of admitting them.
Looking back, Walls and Bridges was a pivotal album for John Lennon, tackling a major transition in his life. The songs bear this out. We hear Lennon reflecting on his transgressions to the degree that he would come out of this Lost Weekend a new man. Over the subsequent 5 years he would go into professional seclusion, focusing entirely on repairing his relationship with Yoko. In the process, they would bear their only child together, Sean. John Lennon’s focus on fatherhood was so intense that a term from that period of his life would be freshly coined in Beatle-fan circles; that term being “house husband”. This was a big deal to the younger generation of the times, which of course included me. It was a new angle on how to approach life for many of us; a new debate on what was important, and what was not.
If there was any time you were going to have a lost weekend in Rock and Roll circles, this period – the mid-70s - was it. Rock music was at it’s “I am a Golden God” peak. Living legends of the industry were out and about, particularly in New York City and Los Angeles. John Lennon connected with just about every heavy-hitter musician of the day, and the music on Walls and Bridges reflects this. I hear at least three songs that connect me with other classic music of the 70s. There’s the magnificent “Old Dirt Road”, which brings to mind the Rolling Stones “Fool to Cry” (Lennon’s song predated that Stones song by 2 years). “Whatever Gets You Through the Night” has Elton John’s 70’s style written all over it (not the least reason being Sir Elton sings backing vocals on this song). And then there is “Nobody Loves You When You’re Down and Out”, ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aaMLCruhQKY ) which sounds oh so much like the beginning and end of Pink Floyd’s Animals concept album (which Walls and Bridges also predated by several years). I don’t see any of these other efforts as plagiarizing. I just see them as having been inspired by John Lennon. Yes, there was a lot of cross pollinating happening on the mean streets of LA and NYC in the mid-70s.
“Lost Weekends” have always been intriguing to me; be they related to John Lennon, Richard Manuel, Pete Townshend, Keith Richards, Neil Young, Graham Parsons or friends in my own circles. Even myself. Lost weekends can be on the edge of brilliance, loneliness, hilarity, foolishness and lunacy, often the lot of them blended together into one big bowl of unpredictability. There is risk involved to both health and hearth, which is why many avoid such escapades (honestly, I can’t blame them). But at the same time, in a nonsensical way, lost weekends can be cleansing and cathartic if you find a way to rise up through the ashes.
I still connect with this “Lost Weekend” world on the odd occasion. Most consistently this plays out at annual forays to my great friend Mac’s cottage in Humarock (a tiny coastal hamlet in Scituate, Massachusetts) with a number of childhood friends. Those experiences have not been averse to Rat Pack mentality. The saving grace has always been the long-term friendship we all share and… the beach. With the friendship, I’m forever rejuvenated by an endless parade of inside jokes. It’s almost as if we have created our own language. The laughs come early and often. Many of these laughs can be downright hysterical.
The beach is another matter. A short stroll there puts you in another much more contemplative mindset. These breakaway retreats to the ocean are needed amidst all the hullabaloo. Looking back, they give my memories of Humarock a proper balance and deeper meaning (a good example of this is that I’ve come up with a handful of blog-entry ideas there). My guess is that John Lennon did something similar in his crazed year on the west coast. Something like it would have been critical in his preparation for that next phase of his journey as house husband (which would turn out to be his last phase).
Walls and Bridges is aptly named. Lost weekends can find you building a wall around yourself, such as happens to the protagonist in Pink Floyd’s The Wall. But mix in enough of those beach-like breakaways and you just might be able to get glimpses of the brilliant bridges you can build in the days, weeks, months and years beyond.
- Pete
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