(Personal
reflections inspired by Beatles songs)
Song: “Jealous Guy”
Album: Imagine (John Lennon solo album)
Release Date: September 1971
In
the mid-70s’ I began expanding my Beatles experience beyond the band when I
purchased the John Lennon album Shaved Fish, which I spotted at a flea
market for a bargain-basement price. I was unaware at the time that this was not an original album, but
a collection of Lennon’s early 70s singles, along with the bigger hits from his
first 3 albums, and as anyone who reads this blog site on a regular basis
knows, I’m not one for “Greatest Hits” albums. In hindsight, though, Shaved
Fish, like the Who’s Meaty Beaty Big and Bouncy was important, for
the very reason that it did indeed contain those singles (such as “Give Peace a
Chance”) which were not otherwise available unless you tracked the given single
down (easier said than done). Anyhow, not long after purchasing, I converted
the album to tape cassette so I could listen elsewhere, including in the
car.
I
had this tape on my possession one summer for a family vacation with my parents
and my five siblings. Virtually all of our family vacations in the 70s were of
the road-trip variety, be it north into Quebec, south to Washington D.C., west
to Niagara Falls, east to Bar Harbor, Maine, or anywhere in between. There was
a lot of time to kill in the VW Bus and much of that would be spent listening
to music. We had quite a range of tastes in music amongst the eight of us, and
we all contributed to the playlist, but I have to say I may have taken the cake
with that John Lennon tape in terms of pushing the envelope.
One
song off the album is titled “Woman is the Nigger of the World”, a not-so-subtle
lament which needs no further explanation as to its meaning. The title is
repeated often enough in the song to get the point across. Another song, “Cold
Turkey”, is about heroin withdrawal, which has John Lennon convincingly moaning
in agony over and over as the song labors its way to a conclusion. There’s plenty of other juicy
stuff on the album too. Mom and Dad, God Bless them, let me play Shaved Fish
in its entirety, and not just once, but a handful of times. Loudly. That summer
it was all just part of the soundtrack of our road trip, and I was made to feel
comfortable listening to it.
Looking
back now, as I write this blog, I think to myself: How did I get to the point
of finding the music off of Shaved Fish worthy of my repeated attention,
never mind to the degree that I was compelled enough to expose my family to it? The songs off the album were revolutionary
and rebellious, trippy and idealist, a longing for what could have been, and
what could be. I was just your average, every day kid growing up in the
70s. I had a great upbringing. What gives? I suppose I could equate my interest in that
music to how my brother felt while tapping into the anti-authority Punk movement
of the late 70s (as did I, to a lesser degree) or my son cranking rebellious Rap
Music many years later in my car (I kept Mom and Dad’s tolerance in mind for many
of these moments). Even so, what was going on in my head? In all our heads? What leads to this?
Speaking for myself, it begins with that timely Shaved Fish purchase. Let me back up a bit to take it from there.
For
as much as I was fascinated by the Beatles as a band while in my teens, I quickly ended
up becoming equally fascinated in what they did individually after the fact, and I can give credit to that innocent flea-market act for sparking it.
One big reason for my post-Beatles fascination was that I came of age in the 70s, after the band had
broken up, making the ongoing lives of John, Paul, George and Ringo’s in that
decade and beyond a bit more familiar and real to me than what had occurred
prior (side note: I have but one vague Beatles-related memory when they were
still together in the 60s; an image of a spectacled, long-haired John Lennon in
a magazine – Life or Time or something like that - whom my
parents helped me identify). Another big reason was that there was always
speculation and hope during that decade that a Beatles reunion was in the
works. In the meantime, however, there was plenty going on with each band
member to keep the buzz alive and well.
The
ex-Beatle who had the greatest effect on me during that 70s period was John Lennon,
which is most likely the case for a majority of other fans of the band too. In
fact, for me it was not even close. For one thing, Lennon always had a knack for
making news in ways that the others did not. In the 70’s those newsworthy items
included his ‘Bed-Ins for Peace’ (with Yoko); his clashes with the Nixon
Administration that nearly got him deported; his “Lost Weekend” in Los Angeles (that
lasted over a year); his “House Husband” years in seclusion; his comeback; and
finally his tragic murder (which I will be addressing later this year, upon the
40th anniversary of that sad December day when the music died).
An
added boost in terms of my connecting with Lennon was that he lived in New York
City, which was a tangible, accessible place to me, being a native of nearby
Massachusetts. For many years I had a postcard on my refrigerator of John
Lennon giving the peace sign in front of the Statue of Liberty. Not soon after
putting it there, I emulated this at the very same Liberty Island location –
trench coat, Lennon-style sunglasses, Irish cap, peace sign and all - and placed
my photo side by side with his postcard.
Mostly
however, John Lennon’s effect on me in that first post-Beatle decade (the only
decade, as it would turn out, that us 70s kids would end up experiencing with
all 4 band members) was through his songs, which were musically and lyrically
visceral. This intuitive approach to his craft was in contrast to much of his
Beatles output, which could often be either surreal (“Strawberry Fields
Forever”, “A Day in the Life”) or dreamy (“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”,
“Across the Universe”) or filled with word play (“Tomorrow Never Knows”, “Come
Together”, “I Am the Walrus”). It is true, Lennon also wrote straight-up,
crystal-clear-meaning songs while with the Beatles (“Help”, “In My Life”, “All
You Need is Love”) but during his solo career, this intuitive approach to
songwriting would predominate.
At
the same time, those 70s songs of his packed a punch, hence the visceral descriptive.
Think about it….in just about every case, Lennon’s solo songs were straight-from-the-gut
and easy to understand lyrically, but also strong and vibrant musically. The
titles alone pretty much told the story, even before you heard a single note.
There was “Jealous Guy” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wADRRYNHhOA ), “Give Peace a Chance”, “Happy X-Mas (War is Over)”, “Mother”, “Imagine”,
“Woman”, “Starting Over”, “Watching the Wheels”, “Power to the People”, “Mind
Games”, “Working Class Hero”, “Gimme Some Truth”, “Crippled Inside”, “How Do
You Sleep”, ”Whatever Gets You Through the Night”, “Instant Karma”, and yes,
“Intuition”. The list goes on.
In
other words, what you see is what you get.
For a teenage kid, there was so much complex stuff in the world to
figure out already, including lyrics of many Beatles and other musicians’ songs
I loved. I’d also started going to concerts around then and the lyrics from the
songs that were being sung in those shows could be difficult to understand. Hey,
don’t get me wrong, it was all a great part of the process of growing up. But
it was refreshing to get the ‘straight dope’ for a change, and John Lennon
offered that. “Gimme Some Truth” indeed.
This
week I got to thinking, was John Lennon’s impact more important in the 60s with
the Beatles, or in the 70s after the fact? It’s a tough one. In the 70s Lennon
showed the next wave of rock-and-rollers how not to sell out. In fact, he went
in the opposite direction, to the point where one could argue he was committing
artistic suicide; taking on big protest-related topics like the war in Vietnam,
greed, and the struggles of woman around the world ...to the point of backlash. He
stirred the pot. This fact alone makes a strong case for his 70s output. There
was nothing clandestine or plastic about it (despite his band’s name), and man-oh-man,
can that ever appeal to a teenager.
Few
have taken a greater leap of faith than John Lennon did in the late 60’s and
early 70’s. Lennon had it made in all walks of life but abandoned it
all in search of his version of truth, which centered on his relationship with
Yoko Ono. An early sign of his self-imposed exile from mainstream
society was when he returned his British MBE award to Queen Elizabeth with the
note, “Your majesty, I am returning this in protest against Britain’s
involvement in the Nigeria-Biafra thing, against our support of America in
Vietnam, and against my single ‘Cold Turkey’ slipping down in the charts”
(though leaving much behind, Lennon’s wit remained intact). Quite a
departure from the mop-top grand entrance he made into the USA in
1964.
Although
I walk a different path, I truly appreciate what John Lennon did in his short life after
the Beatles. I feel it was in his nature
to do so. The man had his ups and downs, like all of us (just listen to his Imagine
album to get both ends of that spectrum).
But there was no sugar coating. And there was nary a dishonest bone in
his body. Teenagers can sense that sort
of thing and are willing to break from the norm if only to listen.
- Pete
Saturday, March 7, 2020
Sunday, March 1, 2020
Fab Foundations # 9: “Liberated”
(Personal reflections
inspired by Beatles songs)
Song: “Wah-Wah”
Album: All Things Must Pass (George Harrison solo album)
Release Date: November 1970
As a corporate product the Beatles brand stands alone in the music department for having generated an astonishing treasure trove of collectors’ items. Back in my grade school years, one of my best friends, Pete (who remains a close friend) lived in an entertaining, welcoming household, and I would often visit him there. Pete’s only sibling, his older brother Paul, was an avid collector of all things Beatles, particularly their records. Paul had every Beatles vinyl release you could imagine, as well as all the discs from their solo-careers. There was the rare and elusive “Butcher Cover” album. There was John and Yoko’s “2 Virgins” album (the two posing naked on the cover). There was the entirety of the Beatles 45 (rpm) singles’ releases, with accompanying picture sleeves (records are not worth much without the sleeves). There were releases from Germany, Japan, the UK and other countries. There were bootlegs. All in all, I’m talking up to 100 albums and an equal number of singles, all in pristine condition (seeing as they were under lock and chain and hermetically sealed…. just a slight exaggeration there).
Every so often, Pete and I would go into his brother’s room and thumb through those albums (sometimes with Paul acting as curator). It was an awe-inspiring collection which - among other effects - gave me a far greater perspective into the immenseness of the Beatles popularity than I would have had otherwise. At some point I became impressed enough to take on the hobby myself for a spell (the only way to do that in those days was to go to collectors’ conventions, which would, from time to time, make their way thru Boston). I still have my handful of singles - with picture sleeves of course - which bring back some nice reflections on the infrequent occasion that I revisit them.
One album in Paul’s collection that stood out for me was George Harrison’s 1970 triple disc, All Things Must Pass, which was released less than a year after the Beatles disbanded; his first solo effort. I’d find myself staring at George on the cover, he, sitting on a stool in a field with a handful of gnome-like garden ornaments positioned around him. It was hard to make out that this was George at first, which had nothing to do with camera angle or special effects, or even his rather lengthy beard (which had him fitting right in with the gnomes). It was simply that he looked different than he did in any of his Beatles-related photos and footage, even those from the late years. I mean very different (this difference was confirmed for me not long after, when I barely recognized a beardless Harrison during his only Saturday Night Live appearance in 1976). And although I had nothing in my vocabulary at the time to describe how I felt about Harrison’s appearance on that cover, today I can do it with one word…. liberated. This look fascinated me (still does, actually). George Harrison’s appearance was quite stunning, even radiant. The type of look we all strive for indirectly through inner peace.
As with Bob Dylan’s albums John Wesley Harding, Slow Train Coming, Saved and Shot of Love as well as Pete Townshend’s Who Came First (and to a slightly lesser degree, the Who’s Tommy and Townshend’s Empty Glass), George Harrison’s first solo album will forever have the deserved reputation as being a deeply spiritual piece of work (side note: Dylan and Townshend are the only other 2 famous musicians I can think of in whom I’ve ever recognized that same look of George’s, specifically during the periods when they were releasing the albums mentioned here). I was not aware of this spiritual focus at first, but not soon after discovering the album in my friend Pete’s brothers’ collection, I watched as Paul presented All Things Must Pass to one of our parish priests for a listen. I could see then that Pete’s brother had thought highly enough of the spiritual nature of the album to have the desire to do this. That moment tuned me in quite a bit more to All Things Must Pass, which would soon make the record one of my first solo-Beatle album purchases.
One could argue that George Harrison was the biggest loser in the breaking up of the Beatles (I look forward to debating this with my cousin’s Tom and Tim, who have been fantastic at diving deeper into my blog-entry talking-points after the fact). After all, George was seriously climbing the ladder as a songwriter in the Beatles swansong years (“Old Brown Shoe”, “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”, “Something”, “Here Comes the Sun”) and his bandmate's musicianship and collective instinct - based on years of working together - would likely have done him wonders if they stuck it out for at least a few more albums (Harrison was only 26 years old when the band broke up).
Aside from the songs just mentioned (“Something”, etc.), George had written a significant amount of other new music for the Beatles in 1968 and 1969, but because he was always regarded as the 3rd writer in the band, Harrison’s input was never given the same attention as John and Paul’s, and so his contributions were often relegated to one or two songs per album (by the way, the only other organically-formed band - i.e. youth constructed - that comes to mind who had 3 exceptional songwriters is R.E.M. Can anyone else think of another?). Much of Beatle George’s pent-up, unused music would end up on All Things Must Pass, being the key reason why it is a triple album.
Yes, George Harrison may have been deprived the most in terms of the timing of the Beatles breakup. And yet, in the same breath, one could also argue that Harrison gained the most from the Beatles breakup. It’s all in that liberated look I see on his face and in his demeanor on the cover of All Things Must Pass. By the late 60s, the Beatles had become a straitjacket on Harrison’s personal and professional growth, particularly his burgeoning spirituality. George was also gaining a new perspective on band dynamics by hanging out with the likes of Bob Dylan and the Band in Woodstock. He saw the freedom they had that he was lacking. Anyhow, I think both sides of that argument (whether Harrison gained or lost from the Beatles breakup) hold merit.
I have great respect for musicians who express faith in their music. At some point in this series I will focus on at least one of those faith-filled songs from All Things Must Pass for an entry all its own (as I did with Townshend and Dylan in earlier series’). Here though, I want to take a minor detour by focusing on another song off the album, “Wah-Wah”, in order to expand on that ‘liberated’ theme. In my mind, spirituality is there in “Wah-Wah”, albeit in a more ambiguous fashion, and so I am not straying all that far off the enlightened path here. No matter how I slice it though, here is one definitive truism: “Wah-Wah” has for decades been one of my favorite Beatles-affiliated songs. This week I tried to get a better sense on why, and I think I’ve succeeded….
The term “Wah-Wah” can be translated here to “Headache” as in…. “you are giving me a headache”. The song was written during the Beatles 1969 “Get Back” sessions, when Harrison quit the band for a short spell due to disagreements and infighting. “Wah-Wah” is specifically directed at Paul McCartney, who apparently was being heavy-handed and overbearing in his musical perfectionism, making way too many suggestions to Harrison about the latter’s guitar contributions for his songs (there has also been suggestions that “Wah-Wah” was at least partly directed at John Lennon, who at times could be a bit dismissive of Harrison’s songwriting skills). Harrison felt unappreciated. This feeling is palpable in “Wah-Wah” when he passionately sings the lines:
“Oh, you don’t see me crying,
Hey baby, you don’t hear me sighing
Oh, no, no, no, no”
However, there are other things going on in this song; deeper liberating sorts of things, which lifts “Wah-Wah” to higher grounds. For, Harrison’s liberation transformation was not only sprung through him moving on from the suffocation of the Beatles environment in their latter years. George was also walking away from much of the general social conventions expected of someone in modern Western culture (hence the spiritual meaning of the song, at least in part). This all plays out in the very next set of lines in “Wah-Wah”, which go:
“And I know how sweet life can be
If I keep myself free”
These lines are short and ‘sweet’, but without proper context, you really can’t make this kind of connection. However, listening to the entirety of All Things Must Pass, one can get a good sense for what Harrison is talking about here in these 2 lyrical lines. The man was taking a deep dive into life’s most profound questions. What does it all mean? This was heavy stuff for my younger self to take in.
Those 2 lines also shift the song-meaning of “Wah-Wah” from a negative vibe to a positive one. And as I listened this week, I also concluded that these lines put a glorious cap on the entire Beatles narrative, at least through the George Harrison lens. In other words, the lyrics are testament to the fact that the Beatles story in Harrison’s mind would not be in vain, despite his need to move on. I liken it to a son or daughter telling his/her parents that their years of parenting paid off: “You done me right Mom and Dad (being the Beatles as a whole in this case). Now it’s time for me to take what you have taught me and run with it on my own”.
Perhaps this is why Paul McCartney could bring himself to co-perform “Wah-Wah” in The Concert for George on the one-year anniversary of Harrison’s death (which remains my second favorite concert video after the Bob Dylan 30th Anniversary Concert Celebration). Knowing smiles and smirks were flying all over the stage, from Paul, to Eric Clapton, to Ringo, to Tom Petty, to Jeff Lynne, to George’s son Dhani (a spitting image of a young George…it must have been mind boggling to Ringo & Paul being on stage with him). Yes, being there on stage took some courage on McCartney’s part.
The song “Wah-Wah” could apply to anything we need to move on from, or signal out, or compartmentalize. It could apply to compartmentalizing irreconcilable differences with someone you know. It could apply to moving on from materialism. It could apply to moving on from bad decisions. It could apply to signaling out dastardly leadership. It could apply to signaling out fake news. The song fits many bills.
George Harrison performed “Wah-Wah” live at the Concert for Bangladesh on August 1, 1971 (I believe it is the first ever rock-benefit concert, which he organized). In the process he did a pretty darn good job recreating that studio-recording version's “Wall of Sound” on stage. The Concert for Bangladesh version ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFUKVZn8DsI ), the original studio recording, and the live version performed in the Concert for George by Harrison’s friends and family all work equally for me.
What George Harrison showed me as a young dude is that it’s possible to transform your life. I’m forever grateful.
- Pete
Concluding Note: This being the 9th Fab Foundations entry, I did ponder some the notion of having it centered on the White Album’s beyond-bizarre “Number 9”, but in the end my brain just could not go there. In replacement was a week of listening to All Things Must Pass. Yeah, like passing on that original idea! I think I made the right decision.
Song: “Wah-Wah”
Album: All Things Must Pass (George Harrison solo album)
Release Date: November 1970
As a corporate product the Beatles brand stands alone in the music department for having generated an astonishing treasure trove of collectors’ items. Back in my grade school years, one of my best friends, Pete (who remains a close friend) lived in an entertaining, welcoming household, and I would often visit him there. Pete’s only sibling, his older brother Paul, was an avid collector of all things Beatles, particularly their records. Paul had every Beatles vinyl release you could imagine, as well as all the discs from their solo-careers. There was the rare and elusive “Butcher Cover” album. There was John and Yoko’s “2 Virgins” album (the two posing naked on the cover). There was the entirety of the Beatles 45 (rpm) singles’ releases, with accompanying picture sleeves (records are not worth much without the sleeves). There were releases from Germany, Japan, the UK and other countries. There were bootlegs. All in all, I’m talking up to 100 albums and an equal number of singles, all in pristine condition (seeing as they were under lock and chain and hermetically sealed…. just a slight exaggeration there).
Every so often, Pete and I would go into his brother’s room and thumb through those albums (sometimes with Paul acting as curator). It was an awe-inspiring collection which - among other effects - gave me a far greater perspective into the immenseness of the Beatles popularity than I would have had otherwise. At some point I became impressed enough to take on the hobby myself for a spell (the only way to do that in those days was to go to collectors’ conventions, which would, from time to time, make their way thru Boston). I still have my handful of singles - with picture sleeves of course - which bring back some nice reflections on the infrequent occasion that I revisit them.
One album in Paul’s collection that stood out for me was George Harrison’s 1970 triple disc, All Things Must Pass, which was released less than a year after the Beatles disbanded; his first solo effort. I’d find myself staring at George on the cover, he, sitting on a stool in a field with a handful of gnome-like garden ornaments positioned around him. It was hard to make out that this was George at first, which had nothing to do with camera angle or special effects, or even his rather lengthy beard (which had him fitting right in with the gnomes). It was simply that he looked different than he did in any of his Beatles-related photos and footage, even those from the late years. I mean very different (this difference was confirmed for me not long after, when I barely recognized a beardless Harrison during his only Saturday Night Live appearance in 1976). And although I had nothing in my vocabulary at the time to describe how I felt about Harrison’s appearance on that cover, today I can do it with one word…. liberated. This look fascinated me (still does, actually). George Harrison’s appearance was quite stunning, even radiant. The type of look we all strive for indirectly through inner peace.
As with Bob Dylan’s albums John Wesley Harding, Slow Train Coming, Saved and Shot of Love as well as Pete Townshend’s Who Came First (and to a slightly lesser degree, the Who’s Tommy and Townshend’s Empty Glass), George Harrison’s first solo album will forever have the deserved reputation as being a deeply spiritual piece of work (side note: Dylan and Townshend are the only other 2 famous musicians I can think of in whom I’ve ever recognized that same look of George’s, specifically during the periods when they were releasing the albums mentioned here). I was not aware of this spiritual focus at first, but not soon after discovering the album in my friend Pete’s brothers’ collection, I watched as Paul presented All Things Must Pass to one of our parish priests for a listen. I could see then that Pete’s brother had thought highly enough of the spiritual nature of the album to have the desire to do this. That moment tuned me in quite a bit more to All Things Must Pass, which would soon make the record one of my first solo-Beatle album purchases.
One could argue that George Harrison was the biggest loser in the breaking up of the Beatles (I look forward to debating this with my cousin’s Tom and Tim, who have been fantastic at diving deeper into my blog-entry talking-points after the fact). After all, George was seriously climbing the ladder as a songwriter in the Beatles swansong years (“Old Brown Shoe”, “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”, “Something”, “Here Comes the Sun”) and his bandmate's musicianship and collective instinct - based on years of working together - would likely have done him wonders if they stuck it out for at least a few more albums (Harrison was only 26 years old when the band broke up).
Aside from the songs just mentioned (“Something”, etc.), George had written a significant amount of other new music for the Beatles in 1968 and 1969, but because he was always regarded as the 3rd writer in the band, Harrison’s input was never given the same attention as John and Paul’s, and so his contributions were often relegated to one or two songs per album (by the way, the only other organically-formed band - i.e. youth constructed - that comes to mind who had 3 exceptional songwriters is R.E.M. Can anyone else think of another?). Much of Beatle George’s pent-up, unused music would end up on All Things Must Pass, being the key reason why it is a triple album.
Yes, George Harrison may have been deprived the most in terms of the timing of the Beatles breakup. And yet, in the same breath, one could also argue that Harrison gained the most from the Beatles breakup. It’s all in that liberated look I see on his face and in his demeanor on the cover of All Things Must Pass. By the late 60s, the Beatles had become a straitjacket on Harrison’s personal and professional growth, particularly his burgeoning spirituality. George was also gaining a new perspective on band dynamics by hanging out with the likes of Bob Dylan and the Band in Woodstock. He saw the freedom they had that he was lacking. Anyhow, I think both sides of that argument (whether Harrison gained or lost from the Beatles breakup) hold merit.
I have great respect for musicians who express faith in their music. At some point in this series I will focus on at least one of those faith-filled songs from All Things Must Pass for an entry all its own (as I did with Townshend and Dylan in earlier series’). Here though, I want to take a minor detour by focusing on another song off the album, “Wah-Wah”, in order to expand on that ‘liberated’ theme. In my mind, spirituality is there in “Wah-Wah”, albeit in a more ambiguous fashion, and so I am not straying all that far off the enlightened path here. No matter how I slice it though, here is one definitive truism: “Wah-Wah” has for decades been one of my favorite Beatles-affiliated songs. This week I tried to get a better sense on why, and I think I’ve succeeded….
The term “Wah-Wah” can be translated here to “Headache” as in…. “you are giving me a headache”. The song was written during the Beatles 1969 “Get Back” sessions, when Harrison quit the band for a short spell due to disagreements and infighting. “Wah-Wah” is specifically directed at Paul McCartney, who apparently was being heavy-handed and overbearing in his musical perfectionism, making way too many suggestions to Harrison about the latter’s guitar contributions for his songs (there has also been suggestions that “Wah-Wah” was at least partly directed at John Lennon, who at times could be a bit dismissive of Harrison’s songwriting skills). Harrison felt unappreciated. This feeling is palpable in “Wah-Wah” when he passionately sings the lines:
“Oh, you don’t see me crying,
Hey baby, you don’t hear me sighing
Oh, no, no, no, no”
However, there are other things going on in this song; deeper liberating sorts of things, which lifts “Wah-Wah” to higher grounds. For, Harrison’s liberation transformation was not only sprung through him moving on from the suffocation of the Beatles environment in their latter years. George was also walking away from much of the general social conventions expected of someone in modern Western culture (hence the spiritual meaning of the song, at least in part). This all plays out in the very next set of lines in “Wah-Wah”, which go:
“And I know how sweet life can be
If I keep myself free”
These lines are short and ‘sweet’, but without proper context, you really can’t make this kind of connection. However, listening to the entirety of All Things Must Pass, one can get a good sense for what Harrison is talking about here in these 2 lyrical lines. The man was taking a deep dive into life’s most profound questions. What does it all mean? This was heavy stuff for my younger self to take in.
Those 2 lines also shift the song-meaning of “Wah-Wah” from a negative vibe to a positive one. And as I listened this week, I also concluded that these lines put a glorious cap on the entire Beatles narrative, at least through the George Harrison lens. In other words, the lyrics are testament to the fact that the Beatles story in Harrison’s mind would not be in vain, despite his need to move on. I liken it to a son or daughter telling his/her parents that their years of parenting paid off: “You done me right Mom and Dad (being the Beatles as a whole in this case). Now it’s time for me to take what you have taught me and run with it on my own”.
Perhaps this is why Paul McCartney could bring himself to co-perform “Wah-Wah” in The Concert for George on the one-year anniversary of Harrison’s death (which remains my second favorite concert video after the Bob Dylan 30th Anniversary Concert Celebration). Knowing smiles and smirks were flying all over the stage, from Paul, to Eric Clapton, to Ringo, to Tom Petty, to Jeff Lynne, to George’s son Dhani (a spitting image of a young George…it must have been mind boggling to Ringo & Paul being on stage with him). Yes, being there on stage took some courage on McCartney’s part.
The song “Wah-Wah” could apply to anything we need to move on from, or signal out, or compartmentalize. It could apply to compartmentalizing irreconcilable differences with someone you know. It could apply to moving on from materialism. It could apply to moving on from bad decisions. It could apply to signaling out dastardly leadership. It could apply to signaling out fake news. The song fits many bills.
George Harrison performed “Wah-Wah” live at the Concert for Bangladesh on August 1, 1971 (I believe it is the first ever rock-benefit concert, which he organized). In the process he did a pretty darn good job recreating that studio-recording version's “Wall of Sound” on stage. The Concert for Bangladesh version ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFUKVZn8DsI ), the original studio recording, and the live version performed in the Concert for George by Harrison’s friends and family all work equally for me.
What George Harrison showed me as a young dude is that it’s possible to transform your life. I’m forever grateful.
- Pete
Concluding Note: This being the 9th Fab Foundations entry, I did ponder some the notion of having it centered on the White Album’s beyond-bizarre “Number 9”, but in the end my brain just could not go there. In replacement was a week of listening to All Things Must Pass. Yeah, like passing on that original idea! I think I made the right decision.
Sunday, February 23, 2020
Fab Foundations # 8: "Raise the Roof"
(Personal reflections
inspired by Beatles songs)
Song: “Don’t Let Me Down”
Album: Released as a B-side single (A side = “Get Back”)
Release Date: April 1969
If there is any one Beatles concert I’ve ever imagined being at, it’s their sparsely attended “rooftop” performance, which occurred on 30 January 1969 at their Apple Corp headquarters in London, England. Of course, the lack of a big crowd was not at all due to a lack of interest, but rather to both the isolated venue and the impromptu nature of the event. If not for the British Bobbies breaking it up after 42 minutes (9 songs including 4 retakes) I believe the gradual swelling of people both on the streets and in the neighboring buildings would have intensified to the point of turning into that proverbial big crowd.
Regardless, the rooftop concert was an extremely unique outlier in the Beatles live-performance history, which is what makes it so compelling. It was the first time the band had performed a setlist of songs on a stage in 3 years, and it would be their last live performance ever. The original idea was to do a big public event somewhere to showcase the new music they were producing (at the time dubbed the “Get Back” sessions, many of these new songs would later be included on the album Let it Be). But that idea fizzled (at least partly due to the fact that George Harrison was already struggling with an understandable form of stage fright) and so, this rooftop idea materialized in rather short order, in turn adding another cool chapter to the Beatles late-60s mystique.
Anyhow, I’ve imagined (and I’m almost certain even dreamed) myself on the London streets on that cold winter day; a young just-out-of-school, disheveled-white-collar kid on his lunch break. I’m making my way to my favorite cheap sandwich shop when above me I hear this amazing live music slicing its way through the din of the workday hustle and bustle. The songs are all new to my ears (which was indeed the case for anyone who was on those affluent, business-district Mayfair streets near Soho that day). But to my amazement there is no mistaking who is performing. It’s the Beatles! Holy Shit! I mean HOLY SHIT! Where is this sound coming from? I suddenly realize I’m across the street from Apple Corp and then I realize that this sound is loud enough to be out in the open air. It must be on the rooftop!
My mind suddenly shifts. Lunch and apprenticeship are no longer in my sphere of interests or concerns. I must find a way to witness this event unfolding in a more up-close and personal manner before it’s too late. I scan the immediate vicinity and spot an alleyway. Dodging traffic, I make my way across Savile Row and rush down the alley until I come upon a fire ladder on the building adjacent to Apple. Problem is, this dangling ladder terminates some 10 feet from the ground. Thankfully another enlightened young fellow – who I had not seen until this moment - has come to the same conclusion that I have about the state of affairs. We tag team. I first hoist him up to the ladder and then he pulls me upward.
The two of us scramble hand over fist, 6 stories upward. As we do so, that glorious Beatles music is getting louder. At the top of the fire escape, we shimmy over and up to a ledge. Then we stand upon said ledge and to our wondering eyes we see the Beatles performing right there in front of us…in living color! A quick leap over several more ledges and we are as close as one would ever want to be, fans in the front row - the only row actually - of one of the most unique live events of all time.
Strangely, one of the first things I notice are power chords and cables strewn all over the lot. This event is wired for sound! At the same time, I’m taking in the band. George is closest to me, in some kind of fur-like jacket, looking rather cerebral. John is next to him. He appears similar to how I remember him a year earlier on the “Hey Jude” show, also cerebral. Paul is next in the front line, fully bearded and appearing oh so in the moment. Ringo has a bright red rain jacket on (turns out it’s a red mac… what do I know?). He’s looking serene and tuned in. And oh, is that Billy Preston on keyboards? Nice addition!
Again, it’s a cold day, but I feel as warm as toast. I find myself connecting with these songs instantly, as if I’d heard them one thousand times before. When I first tuned into this being the Beatles when I was down on the streets, it was clear Paul was singing lead at the time (which I would later find out were the first 2 takes of “Get Back”) and then on the way up the ladder it was clearly John (first take of “Don’t Let Me Down”). As I settle in on the rooftop now, it’s back to Paul singing lead. A stagehand is standing next to me. He tells me he works for the Beatles as a sound guy and has been listening to them rehearse these songs for weeks. He then tells me the title of this song; “I’ve Got a Feeling”. I take in the groove and the lyrics. John takes the lead on the bridge. The song has the feel of “A Day in the Life” in terms of Lennon and McCartney alternating leads between verse and bridge. But this time the roles are reversed. I turn to my new ladder-climbing buddy. “Wow!”
Based on the lyrics, the next song sounds like it’s called “One After 909”. The stagehand confirms my assumption and then tells me this is one of the first songs that Lennon and McCartney wrote together back in the late 50s, which they have never released. He also tells me they intend on including it on the new album. The band is doing a lot of smiling and nodding to each other. They are clearly having a blast, and now I’ve got the inside scoop that it’s likely because they have such great old memories associated with “One After 909”. How cool is that?
I’m beginning to get a kick out of fact that the Beatles are pulling this off on a workday in downtown London. How rebellious can you get! At the same time, I can see a few British Bobbies making their way around the stage. But they let the music play on, at least for the time being. The band quickly kicks into a song the sound guy next to me refers to as “Dig a Pony”. The Beatles sound tight, as if they’ve been playing live endlessly for all these past 3 years. George’s lead-guitar playing propels the song forward. He has clearly evolved in the years since they stopped touring.
After another take on “I’ve Got a Feeling”, the band then does a second take on the John Lennon song I heard while scaling the ladder…. “Don’t Let Me Down”. Right off, I connect with this one the most. Lennon’s singing is passionate and pleading. This is clearly a love song to Yoko Ono, who I just spotted sitting off to the side next to George. As the bridge begins - “I’m in love for the first time….” - I happen to be watching Ringo. The look on his face is priceless, as if he is at that moment fully absorbing all the good things that this band stands for. Paul McCartney’s bass playing is so beautifully melodic. I’m inspired to one day play the bass so I can imitate it.
The Bobbies close in for the kill, but the Beatles launch into “Get Back” for a third take before they can break it all up. This is another great song. Is McCartney trying to bring the band back to their roots? (“get back to where you once belong”). Kinda makes sense after the sound guy told me the story behind “One After 909”. Billy Preston’s keyboard playing stands out here. Just fantastic all around. As the song winds down, John Lennon makes a classic apropos understatement: “I would like to say thank you on behalf of the group and ourselves and I hope we’ve passed the audition”.
With that, the show ends. I manage to make my way around the stage, high fiving and hugging every band member. I even shake hands with one of the cops, who turns out to be a Beatles fan (I know this, because he has tears in his eyes). He then leads me and my ladder-climbing buddy down the stairs, through the Apple lobby, and ultimately out to the streets. What just happened? The two of us head to a nearby pub for a beer and more importantly, to make sure we have not lost our minds.
Back to reality, I do recommend that if you have never seen it, you check out the “Don’t Let Me Down” footage ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCtzkaL2t_Y ) and particularly that Ringo moment I mention above. As I watch, I’m of the belief that Ringo is sensing the end is near for the band and he wants to savor this event for all its worth. He also knows this is a magnificent love song. I concur.
As for this entry, well…. I hope I passed the audition.
- Pete
Song: “Don’t Let Me Down”
Album: Released as a B-side single (A side = “Get Back”)
Release Date: April 1969
If there is any one Beatles concert I’ve ever imagined being at, it’s their sparsely attended “rooftop” performance, which occurred on 30 January 1969 at their Apple Corp headquarters in London, England. Of course, the lack of a big crowd was not at all due to a lack of interest, but rather to both the isolated venue and the impromptu nature of the event. If not for the British Bobbies breaking it up after 42 minutes (9 songs including 4 retakes) I believe the gradual swelling of people both on the streets and in the neighboring buildings would have intensified to the point of turning into that proverbial big crowd.
Regardless, the rooftop concert was an extremely unique outlier in the Beatles live-performance history, which is what makes it so compelling. It was the first time the band had performed a setlist of songs on a stage in 3 years, and it would be their last live performance ever. The original idea was to do a big public event somewhere to showcase the new music they were producing (at the time dubbed the “Get Back” sessions, many of these new songs would later be included on the album Let it Be). But that idea fizzled (at least partly due to the fact that George Harrison was already struggling with an understandable form of stage fright) and so, this rooftop idea materialized in rather short order, in turn adding another cool chapter to the Beatles late-60s mystique.
Anyhow, I’ve imagined (and I’m almost certain even dreamed) myself on the London streets on that cold winter day; a young just-out-of-school, disheveled-white-collar kid on his lunch break. I’m making my way to my favorite cheap sandwich shop when above me I hear this amazing live music slicing its way through the din of the workday hustle and bustle. The songs are all new to my ears (which was indeed the case for anyone who was on those affluent, business-district Mayfair streets near Soho that day). But to my amazement there is no mistaking who is performing. It’s the Beatles! Holy Shit! I mean HOLY SHIT! Where is this sound coming from? I suddenly realize I’m across the street from Apple Corp and then I realize that this sound is loud enough to be out in the open air. It must be on the rooftop!
My mind suddenly shifts. Lunch and apprenticeship are no longer in my sphere of interests or concerns. I must find a way to witness this event unfolding in a more up-close and personal manner before it’s too late. I scan the immediate vicinity and spot an alleyway. Dodging traffic, I make my way across Savile Row and rush down the alley until I come upon a fire ladder on the building adjacent to Apple. Problem is, this dangling ladder terminates some 10 feet from the ground. Thankfully another enlightened young fellow – who I had not seen until this moment - has come to the same conclusion that I have about the state of affairs. We tag team. I first hoist him up to the ladder and then he pulls me upward.
The two of us scramble hand over fist, 6 stories upward. As we do so, that glorious Beatles music is getting louder. At the top of the fire escape, we shimmy over and up to a ledge. Then we stand upon said ledge and to our wondering eyes we see the Beatles performing right there in front of us…in living color! A quick leap over several more ledges and we are as close as one would ever want to be, fans in the front row - the only row actually - of one of the most unique live events of all time.
Strangely, one of the first things I notice are power chords and cables strewn all over the lot. This event is wired for sound! At the same time, I’m taking in the band. George is closest to me, in some kind of fur-like jacket, looking rather cerebral. John is next to him. He appears similar to how I remember him a year earlier on the “Hey Jude” show, also cerebral. Paul is next in the front line, fully bearded and appearing oh so in the moment. Ringo has a bright red rain jacket on (turns out it’s a red mac… what do I know?). He’s looking serene and tuned in. And oh, is that Billy Preston on keyboards? Nice addition!
Again, it’s a cold day, but I feel as warm as toast. I find myself connecting with these songs instantly, as if I’d heard them one thousand times before. When I first tuned into this being the Beatles when I was down on the streets, it was clear Paul was singing lead at the time (which I would later find out were the first 2 takes of “Get Back”) and then on the way up the ladder it was clearly John (first take of “Don’t Let Me Down”). As I settle in on the rooftop now, it’s back to Paul singing lead. A stagehand is standing next to me. He tells me he works for the Beatles as a sound guy and has been listening to them rehearse these songs for weeks. He then tells me the title of this song; “I’ve Got a Feeling”. I take in the groove and the lyrics. John takes the lead on the bridge. The song has the feel of “A Day in the Life” in terms of Lennon and McCartney alternating leads between verse and bridge. But this time the roles are reversed. I turn to my new ladder-climbing buddy. “Wow!”
Based on the lyrics, the next song sounds like it’s called “One After 909”. The stagehand confirms my assumption and then tells me this is one of the first songs that Lennon and McCartney wrote together back in the late 50s, which they have never released. He also tells me they intend on including it on the new album. The band is doing a lot of smiling and nodding to each other. They are clearly having a blast, and now I’ve got the inside scoop that it’s likely because they have such great old memories associated with “One After 909”. How cool is that?
I’m beginning to get a kick out of fact that the Beatles are pulling this off on a workday in downtown London. How rebellious can you get! At the same time, I can see a few British Bobbies making their way around the stage. But they let the music play on, at least for the time being. The band quickly kicks into a song the sound guy next to me refers to as “Dig a Pony”. The Beatles sound tight, as if they’ve been playing live endlessly for all these past 3 years. George’s lead-guitar playing propels the song forward. He has clearly evolved in the years since they stopped touring.
After another take on “I’ve Got a Feeling”, the band then does a second take on the John Lennon song I heard while scaling the ladder…. “Don’t Let Me Down”. Right off, I connect with this one the most. Lennon’s singing is passionate and pleading. This is clearly a love song to Yoko Ono, who I just spotted sitting off to the side next to George. As the bridge begins - “I’m in love for the first time….” - I happen to be watching Ringo. The look on his face is priceless, as if he is at that moment fully absorbing all the good things that this band stands for. Paul McCartney’s bass playing is so beautifully melodic. I’m inspired to one day play the bass so I can imitate it.
The Bobbies close in for the kill, but the Beatles launch into “Get Back” for a third take before they can break it all up. This is another great song. Is McCartney trying to bring the band back to their roots? (“get back to where you once belong”). Kinda makes sense after the sound guy told me the story behind “One After 909”. Billy Preston’s keyboard playing stands out here. Just fantastic all around. As the song winds down, John Lennon makes a classic apropos understatement: “I would like to say thank you on behalf of the group and ourselves and I hope we’ve passed the audition”.
With that, the show ends. I manage to make my way around the stage, high fiving and hugging every band member. I even shake hands with one of the cops, who turns out to be a Beatles fan (I know this, because he has tears in his eyes). He then leads me and my ladder-climbing buddy down the stairs, through the Apple lobby, and ultimately out to the streets. What just happened? The two of us head to a nearby pub for a beer and more importantly, to make sure we have not lost our minds.
Back to reality, I do recommend that if you have never seen it, you check out the “Don’t Let Me Down” footage ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCtzkaL2t_Y ) and particularly that Ringo moment I mention above. As I watch, I’m of the belief that Ringo is sensing the end is near for the band and he wants to savor this event for all its worth. He also knows this is a magnificent love song. I concur.
As for this entry, well…. I hope I passed the audition.
- Pete
Monday, February 17, 2020
Fab Foundations # 7: “The Real Deal”
(Personal reflections
inspired by Beatles songs)
Song: “I Should Have Known Better”
Album: A Hard Day’s Night
Release Date: July 1964
A majority of my formative memories are of the outdoor variety, including countless evenings out and about with my closest friends. There were rare occasions, however, when I would talk my compadres into spending an evening indoors at one of our homes to watch any in a then short list of rock and roll films. Most of these movies we would rent from what were at-the-time, state-of-the-art video stores. One repeat viewing for us was the Who’s the Kids Are Alright (my all-time favorite film). We also took in Neil Young’s Rust Never Sleeps, Led Zeppelin’s the Song Remains the Same, Pink Floyd’s The Wall, and the Who’s Quadrophenia, among others.
These films allowed us to stretch out our understanding of songs we loved that were featured in those films. The viewings were also a way to get to know the musicians better. All of this was a big deal to me. It would ultimately make the inevitable/eventual concert experiences of a number of these acts’ far more compelling than would otherwise have been the case. I suppose you could equate it to learning the history and geography of a city, country or region before travelling there. The additional knowledge gained beforehand makes the experience far more rewarding.
The Beatles as a band were involved in 6 films: A Hard Day’s Night (1964) Help (1965), Magical Mystery Tour (1967), Yellow Submarine (1968), Let it Be (1970) and the Anthology box set (1995). Over the course of this Fab Foundations series, I’ll be visiting (or revisiting) each of these movies. I’ll do this in chronological order, starting here with A Hard Day’s Night. My goal is not so much to critique these movies as it is to garner thoughts and ideas to write about (much like my approach to this Music and Memory blog site in general in relation to songs and albums).
On the latter-day bonus cd for A Hard Day’s Night, George Martin - who produced the sound-track album for the movie (of the same name), along with a vast majority of the Beatles musical catalog - states in an interview that he was originally attracted to the Beatles not so much as talent per se, but as people. As an early instance of this, he mentions that when he first met the band, he asked them if there was anything that they were not comfortable with in the studio room of EMI (where they would be cutting their first record). George Harrison responded “well, for starters, I don’t like your tie”.
I find this both hilarious and courageous. The Beatles had not even signed a record deal yet (and had already been rejected by a number of other record companies), and George Martin, who had quite the authoritative presence about him, was pretty much in control of all the cards. So, there was more than a little risk in such an offhanded comment. But this was who the Beatles were, and Martin found it refreshing.
In a nutshell, this is the type of uninhibited genuineness that is exhibited by all four band members in the film A Hard Day’s Night.
It was pretty clear to me as I watched George Martin make that statement about George Harrison that he was driving at something deeper. He was driving at what made the Beatles…. THE BEATLES! We all search for genuineness in the people we meet, the music we listen to, the art we observe. Real success in any endeavor comes hand in hand with letting your guard down, entrusting and respecting others involved in the process, and connecting with them on the level, and in ways aside from the obligatory professional one. It can be quite amazing how fast you can bond with someone you have just met in the work place when you approach the new relationship this way. It ends up opening all sorts of doors that would otherwise remain closed. Herein lies the upspoken deeper meaning in Martin’s reflection; this notion that we all have amazing gifts that will eventually be noticed by others, but to allow this to happen we first must shed the shackles of conformity and just be ourselves, which in turn lets others to be themselves too.
This truism feeds my fascination in what it takes to be successful in a group setting, such as what we witness with dynasties in the world of sports, or what some of us get to partake in with an unusually gifted team in a standard office work environment, or my favorite one to analyze…. a top-tier band. Genuineness is a large component of this powerful, albeit fragile dynamics of the group setting. My general fascination with group dynamics is why three of my five blog series focus on bands (vs. the two series that focus on musicians who are known more for their individuality: Bob Dylan and Neil Young). Outside of talent, those three bands had core reasons that could explain their success. For the Rolling Stones it was attitude. For the Who, it was in the conscious and subconscious ways that they pushed each other to excel at their craft (particularly on stage), and in the case of the Beatles, it’s all in that genuineness, which was spread out pretty evenly among all four band members.
The all-in authenticity of the Beatles increased exponentially the number of new doors they could open. This was proven again and again by the Fab Four as the 60s unfolded, whereby they would crank out one great accomplishment after another. The Beatles were the real deal because they were real with themselves, with each other, and with others. They caught lightning in a bottle finding and then feeding off one another, and they knew that as long as they stayed true to their collective authenticity, that the sky was the limit.
Ok, I guess I should talk a bit about the movie itself. To my knowledge, A Hard Day’s Night captures something no other film has before or since: Fever-pitched fan frenzy. The phenomenon was so unique, that someone had to come up with a term for it, which will forever be known as Beatlemania. It remains quite fascinating to observe - if only on film - be it through watching this movie or other concert footage of the period.
As I watched those screaming girls earlier this week, it got me thinking “wow, the state of mind that humans are capable of can sometimes be utterly impossible to comprehend”. Hmmm…perhaps not though. Here, I’ll give it a try: In that frenzied Beatlemania state, those teenage girls were displaying an early realization that something new and revolutionary was playing out in front of their eyes. Something they tuned into first. Something that would change the world forevermore. Something that would one day set me to writing hundreds of blog writeups, inspired while listening to rock and roll music, to try and capture it all in my own words.
And so, as I see it there are two big ticket items that A Hard Day’s Night brings to the table in terms of human nature: Beatlemania and that aforementioned door unlocking that comes with genuineness. These two concepts cut to the core of why this should always be considered a classic film.
My favorite scene in A Hard Day’s Night is near the beginning, with the Beatles performing “I Should Have Known Better” on the train ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=68cqDJvzJao&list=RD68cqDJvzJao&start_radio=1 ). It brings together and captures beautifully those two big ticket items. That’s Pattie Boyd sitting inside the freight cage with the band as they sing. Her brief stint in the movie (including another earlier scene) is a pleasure to watch, seeing as it was Boyd’s introduction to the Beatles, forever captured on film. Soon enough Pattie Boyd would be tied to the hip with George Harrison. And eventually, she would be the topic of some of the greatest love songs in Rock and Roll history (“Something” and “Wonderful Tonight”, among others).
Yes, the Beatles came across as comfortable in their own skin in A Hard Day’s Night. This is what appeals to people and reminds us of personal experiences we all hopefully share of the same nature.
- Pete
Song: “I Should Have Known Better”
Album: A Hard Day’s Night
Release Date: July 1964
A majority of my formative memories are of the outdoor variety, including countless evenings out and about with my closest friends. There were rare occasions, however, when I would talk my compadres into spending an evening indoors at one of our homes to watch any in a then short list of rock and roll films. Most of these movies we would rent from what were at-the-time, state-of-the-art video stores. One repeat viewing for us was the Who’s the Kids Are Alright (my all-time favorite film). We also took in Neil Young’s Rust Never Sleeps, Led Zeppelin’s the Song Remains the Same, Pink Floyd’s The Wall, and the Who’s Quadrophenia, among others.
These films allowed us to stretch out our understanding of songs we loved that were featured in those films. The viewings were also a way to get to know the musicians better. All of this was a big deal to me. It would ultimately make the inevitable/eventual concert experiences of a number of these acts’ far more compelling than would otherwise have been the case. I suppose you could equate it to learning the history and geography of a city, country or region before travelling there. The additional knowledge gained beforehand makes the experience far more rewarding.
The Beatles as a band were involved in 6 films: A Hard Day’s Night (1964) Help (1965), Magical Mystery Tour (1967), Yellow Submarine (1968), Let it Be (1970) and the Anthology box set (1995). Over the course of this Fab Foundations series, I’ll be visiting (or revisiting) each of these movies. I’ll do this in chronological order, starting here with A Hard Day’s Night. My goal is not so much to critique these movies as it is to garner thoughts and ideas to write about (much like my approach to this Music and Memory blog site in general in relation to songs and albums).
On the latter-day bonus cd for A Hard Day’s Night, George Martin - who produced the sound-track album for the movie (of the same name), along with a vast majority of the Beatles musical catalog - states in an interview that he was originally attracted to the Beatles not so much as talent per se, but as people. As an early instance of this, he mentions that when he first met the band, he asked them if there was anything that they were not comfortable with in the studio room of EMI (where they would be cutting their first record). George Harrison responded “well, for starters, I don’t like your tie”.
I find this both hilarious and courageous. The Beatles had not even signed a record deal yet (and had already been rejected by a number of other record companies), and George Martin, who had quite the authoritative presence about him, was pretty much in control of all the cards. So, there was more than a little risk in such an offhanded comment. But this was who the Beatles were, and Martin found it refreshing.
In a nutshell, this is the type of uninhibited genuineness that is exhibited by all four band members in the film A Hard Day’s Night.
It was pretty clear to me as I watched George Martin make that statement about George Harrison that he was driving at something deeper. He was driving at what made the Beatles…. THE BEATLES! We all search for genuineness in the people we meet, the music we listen to, the art we observe. Real success in any endeavor comes hand in hand with letting your guard down, entrusting and respecting others involved in the process, and connecting with them on the level, and in ways aside from the obligatory professional one. It can be quite amazing how fast you can bond with someone you have just met in the work place when you approach the new relationship this way. It ends up opening all sorts of doors that would otherwise remain closed. Herein lies the upspoken deeper meaning in Martin’s reflection; this notion that we all have amazing gifts that will eventually be noticed by others, but to allow this to happen we first must shed the shackles of conformity and just be ourselves, which in turn lets others to be themselves too.
This truism feeds my fascination in what it takes to be successful in a group setting, such as what we witness with dynasties in the world of sports, or what some of us get to partake in with an unusually gifted team in a standard office work environment, or my favorite one to analyze…. a top-tier band. Genuineness is a large component of this powerful, albeit fragile dynamics of the group setting. My general fascination with group dynamics is why three of my five blog series focus on bands (vs. the two series that focus on musicians who are known more for their individuality: Bob Dylan and Neil Young). Outside of talent, those three bands had core reasons that could explain their success. For the Rolling Stones it was attitude. For the Who, it was in the conscious and subconscious ways that they pushed each other to excel at their craft (particularly on stage), and in the case of the Beatles, it’s all in that genuineness, which was spread out pretty evenly among all four band members.
The all-in authenticity of the Beatles increased exponentially the number of new doors they could open. This was proven again and again by the Fab Four as the 60s unfolded, whereby they would crank out one great accomplishment after another. The Beatles were the real deal because they were real with themselves, with each other, and with others. They caught lightning in a bottle finding and then feeding off one another, and they knew that as long as they stayed true to their collective authenticity, that the sky was the limit.
Ok, I guess I should talk a bit about the movie itself. To my knowledge, A Hard Day’s Night captures something no other film has before or since: Fever-pitched fan frenzy. The phenomenon was so unique, that someone had to come up with a term for it, which will forever be known as Beatlemania. It remains quite fascinating to observe - if only on film - be it through watching this movie or other concert footage of the period.
As I watched those screaming girls earlier this week, it got me thinking “wow, the state of mind that humans are capable of can sometimes be utterly impossible to comprehend”. Hmmm…perhaps not though. Here, I’ll give it a try: In that frenzied Beatlemania state, those teenage girls were displaying an early realization that something new and revolutionary was playing out in front of their eyes. Something they tuned into first. Something that would change the world forevermore. Something that would one day set me to writing hundreds of blog writeups, inspired while listening to rock and roll music, to try and capture it all in my own words.
And so, as I see it there are two big ticket items that A Hard Day’s Night brings to the table in terms of human nature: Beatlemania and that aforementioned door unlocking that comes with genuineness. These two concepts cut to the core of why this should always be considered a classic film.
My favorite scene in A Hard Day’s Night is near the beginning, with the Beatles performing “I Should Have Known Better” on the train ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=68cqDJvzJao&list=RD68cqDJvzJao&start_radio=1 ). It brings together and captures beautifully those two big ticket items. That’s Pattie Boyd sitting inside the freight cage with the band as they sing. Her brief stint in the movie (including another earlier scene) is a pleasure to watch, seeing as it was Boyd’s introduction to the Beatles, forever captured on film. Soon enough Pattie Boyd would be tied to the hip with George Harrison. And eventually, she would be the topic of some of the greatest love songs in Rock and Roll history (“Something” and “Wonderful Tonight”, among others).
Yes, the Beatles came across as comfortable in their own skin in A Hard Day’s Night. This is what appeals to people and reminds us of personal experiences we all hopefully share of the same nature.
- Pete
Monday, February 10, 2020
Fab Foundations # 6: “A Concise Sacrifice”
(Personal reflections
inspired by Beatles songs)
Song: “Hey Jude”
Album: Released as a single
Release Date: August 1968
One aspect of the Beatles story that so many of us fans find uniquely compelling is their breakup. No other band’s demise even comes close. The Who breakup in the 80s was just depressing. Led Zeppelin’s was understandable (John Bonham’s death). The Rolling Stones quarreled in the mid 80’s and came close to splitting, which had a little more intrigue than how it went down with the Who and Zep (anytime Keith Richards gets angry, things get interesting). Simon and Garfunkel, the Kinks, Creedence Clearwater Revival, and the Band all have their unique parting-of-ways stories. So too many other groups. But none of these tales holds a candle to the Beatles dissolution.
There are many reasons for this special interest, not the least being that the Beatles broke up at a time when they were still at their creative peak, prompting the question, what would have happened had they stayed together? Another big reason is that the Beatles broke up at the very tail end of the 60s. Their story is well framed by that turbulent decade, which framed so many other big-ticket items, from assassinations, to war, to civil rights, to flower power, to campus take-overs, to hippies, to Monterey, to Woodstock, to Altamont. Indeed, the demarcation between 1969 and 1970 feels far more historical than Y2K. The Beatles calling it quits was a big piece of that.
For those of us who take in all things Beatles, from books to documentaries, the band’s breakup had a certain inevitability about it not long after Sgt. Pepper was released in 1967. You can read the tea leaves from that point on. The “Get Back” sessions in 1969, which were filmed (and ultimately released as Let It Be), are enough to come to that conclusion, but there were plenty of clues in the music prior to that downer film, including the entirely of the solo-artist feel of 1968’s White Album (see Fab Foundations # 4). Later, Paul McCartney’s plea-of-a-song “Oh Darling” - which I interpret as an appeal directed at John Lennon – was another indication that the band was splitting apart. And the medley of songs on side 2 of the Beatles last studio album Abbey Road, which appropriately concludes with the song “The End” (and more specifically the brilliant closing line “and in the end, the love you take, is equal to the love…. you make”) is transcendent in this regard of closure.
For me though, the most compelling piece of the Beatles breakup story is Paul McCartney’s song “Hey Jude”, which may be the best song he ever wrote. The story goes that Paul came up with this song for John Lennon’s then 5-year old son Julian at the time when Julian’s parents, John and Cynthia, were getting divorced. I’m willing to run with this as being part of the narrative, but as I listen, and hear lyrics like “You have found her, now go and get her”, I think, ‘how could that be about young Julian’?
No, there’s way more going on here, much deeper kinds of things. For, however knowingly his intentions, Paul McCartney would end up expressing a sentiment in “Hey Jude” that we rarely get to experience in the meaning of a song, never mind a legendery one. It’s a sentiment of sacrifice; the act of giving up something valued for the sake of something else regarded as more important or worthy. Yes, in “Hey Jude”, I hear a man letting go of a cherished songwriting partnership, and in the process freeing up his partner for another “to perform with”, that person being Yoko Ono. John Lennon was falling for Ono big time; he was all in on every level, including the creative one. Knowing his bandmate well, McCartney could sense that soon there would not be enough room for both himself and Yoko at the heart of John’s artistic life. That’s my take anyway.
In the ~ 400 page tome that is The Beatles Anthology - the definitive story of the band in their own words - the quote that resonated with me the most was the following one by George Harrison:
John and I had a very interesting relationship. That I was younger, or I was smaller was no longer any embarrassment with John (by the mid-60s). Paul still says, 'I suppose we looked down on George because he was younger', That is an illusion people are under. It's nothing to do with how many years old you are or how big your body is. It's down to what your greater consciousness is and if you can live in harmony with what's going on in creation. John and I spent a lot of time together from then on and I felt closer to him than all the others, right through until his death. As Yoko came into the picture, I lost a lot of personal contact with John, but on the odd occasion I did see him, just by the look in his eyes I felt we were connected."
This is spot on, but from my perspective, it does not cover the entirety of the deeper dynamics among band members. For although all four of the Beatles communicated best through their music, it was Paul McCartney who seemed to have the biggest gap between his musical expression and the spoken word (this is not to be confused with his ability to deal with fame, which was better than the others). McCartney wasn’t horrible – in fact, compared to many people in the public eye, he was pretty darn good - he just was not as good as John, George and Ringo when it came to conveying depth of personality in non-melodic verbal communication. Seeing as we the public get such great insight into the Beatles personalities without ever knowing them personally - through the sheer quantity of documented material - I’m guessing this was probably the case behind closed doors as well. McCartney’s musical expression made up for this gap, though. Perhaps Beatle George did not factor this in.
“Hey Jude” was conceived not long after the Beatles returned home from their India retreat with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. Seeing as John and George stuck it out the longest in Rishikesh, India, it’s always been inferred that those two got the most out of the experience. Yes, it’s pretty apparent that both of them grew significantly around this time in finding ways to express their personal gifts. George’s music grew by leaps and bounds spiritually. John would soon flourish as a troubadour for peace and made bold statements in his music about the power of women. I think Paul grew in wisdom from his India experience too, it’s just that the effect was not as singular or clairvoyant as with John and George. But if you listen to his musical output in 1968 and 1969 - “Blackbird”, “Mother Nature’s Son”, “Let It Be”, “The Long and Winding Road”, much of the medley on side 2 of Abbey Road, and “Hey Jude” among other gems, you just have to tip your cap and acknowledge this fact.
Another significant factor in all the magnificent output by Paul McCartney during this period was John Lennon himself. Lennon challenged McCartney by being brutally honest, even cutting and jabbing at times. In doing so, he was making it clear that there would be no free passes, no dwelling on former success stories, no resting on laurels. It’s the type of challenge that could hurt someone deeply, and this certainly appeared to be the case with Paul (particularly after the band broke up). But McCartney rose to the challenge and – despite being in much more of a heavy environment than his personality was comfortable with – his musical output would prove to be broad and deep. I can relate to both sides of this story – Lennon’s and McCartney’s. I’ve been on both sides of that fence. It is pretty much a given with all the myriad of interrelationships we find ourselves engaged in in the course of our lives.
“Hey Jude” was an amazingly classy and dignified musical statement. Although the song’s lyrics are about John Lennon, I believe they say more about Paul McCartney. In other words, I ask myself more about McCartney as I listen than I do about Lennon. What does it say about a person when they are willing to make such a significant sacrifice? Quite a lot. John Lennon knew the true meaning of the song right off and was very impressed (I did not realize this until many years after I came to the same conclusion). Ultimately, the real barometer of a friendship is not so much how many fun times you have shared, it’s how much you are able to reveal your true self to that person. Paul McCartney pulled this off with “Hey Jude”.
The Beatles performed “Hey Jude” on the telly in 1968 - with David Frost hosting - not long after the song was released. For any Beatles enthusiast who has not seen this, it is worth a viewing (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_MjCqQoLLA ). This was the first live performance by the Beatles in over a year. I love how, early in the video, Paul and George don’t even flinch at John’s antics (at the 19 second mark). Also, there’s the interplay between Paul and John at the 2:47 mark. Priceless. This is about as serious as I’ve ever seen McCartney in a performance. I also love the diversity of the audience that crowds in and sings along to the well-known closing refrain. It speaks to the spirit of the times.
Post breakup, Paul McCartney and John Lennon would take jabs at each other with biting lyrics in their respective songs “Too Many People” and “How do you Sleep”, among others. There will be more on that part of the story in a future entry. This week, I’m content to stick with the upside of the Beatles breakup, manifested in the magnificence that is “Hey Jude”.
- Pete
Song: “Hey Jude”
Album: Released as a single
Release Date: August 1968
One aspect of the Beatles story that so many of us fans find uniquely compelling is their breakup. No other band’s demise even comes close. The Who breakup in the 80s was just depressing. Led Zeppelin’s was understandable (John Bonham’s death). The Rolling Stones quarreled in the mid 80’s and came close to splitting, which had a little more intrigue than how it went down with the Who and Zep (anytime Keith Richards gets angry, things get interesting). Simon and Garfunkel, the Kinks, Creedence Clearwater Revival, and the Band all have their unique parting-of-ways stories. So too many other groups. But none of these tales holds a candle to the Beatles dissolution.
There are many reasons for this special interest, not the least being that the Beatles broke up at a time when they were still at their creative peak, prompting the question, what would have happened had they stayed together? Another big reason is that the Beatles broke up at the very tail end of the 60s. Their story is well framed by that turbulent decade, which framed so many other big-ticket items, from assassinations, to war, to civil rights, to flower power, to campus take-overs, to hippies, to Monterey, to Woodstock, to Altamont. Indeed, the demarcation between 1969 and 1970 feels far more historical than Y2K. The Beatles calling it quits was a big piece of that.
For those of us who take in all things Beatles, from books to documentaries, the band’s breakup had a certain inevitability about it not long after Sgt. Pepper was released in 1967. You can read the tea leaves from that point on. The “Get Back” sessions in 1969, which were filmed (and ultimately released as Let It Be), are enough to come to that conclusion, but there were plenty of clues in the music prior to that downer film, including the entirely of the solo-artist feel of 1968’s White Album (see Fab Foundations # 4). Later, Paul McCartney’s plea-of-a-song “Oh Darling” - which I interpret as an appeal directed at John Lennon – was another indication that the band was splitting apart. And the medley of songs on side 2 of the Beatles last studio album Abbey Road, which appropriately concludes with the song “The End” (and more specifically the brilliant closing line “and in the end, the love you take, is equal to the love…. you make”) is transcendent in this regard of closure.
For me though, the most compelling piece of the Beatles breakup story is Paul McCartney’s song “Hey Jude”, which may be the best song he ever wrote. The story goes that Paul came up with this song for John Lennon’s then 5-year old son Julian at the time when Julian’s parents, John and Cynthia, were getting divorced. I’m willing to run with this as being part of the narrative, but as I listen, and hear lyrics like “You have found her, now go and get her”, I think, ‘how could that be about young Julian’?
No, there’s way more going on here, much deeper kinds of things. For, however knowingly his intentions, Paul McCartney would end up expressing a sentiment in “Hey Jude” that we rarely get to experience in the meaning of a song, never mind a legendery one. It’s a sentiment of sacrifice; the act of giving up something valued for the sake of something else regarded as more important or worthy. Yes, in “Hey Jude”, I hear a man letting go of a cherished songwriting partnership, and in the process freeing up his partner for another “to perform with”, that person being Yoko Ono. John Lennon was falling for Ono big time; he was all in on every level, including the creative one. Knowing his bandmate well, McCartney could sense that soon there would not be enough room for both himself and Yoko at the heart of John’s artistic life. That’s my take anyway.
In the ~ 400 page tome that is The Beatles Anthology - the definitive story of the band in their own words - the quote that resonated with me the most was the following one by George Harrison:
John and I had a very interesting relationship. That I was younger, or I was smaller was no longer any embarrassment with John (by the mid-60s). Paul still says, 'I suppose we looked down on George because he was younger', That is an illusion people are under. It's nothing to do with how many years old you are or how big your body is. It's down to what your greater consciousness is and if you can live in harmony with what's going on in creation. John and I spent a lot of time together from then on and I felt closer to him than all the others, right through until his death. As Yoko came into the picture, I lost a lot of personal contact with John, but on the odd occasion I did see him, just by the look in his eyes I felt we were connected."
This is spot on, but from my perspective, it does not cover the entirety of the deeper dynamics among band members. For although all four of the Beatles communicated best through their music, it was Paul McCartney who seemed to have the biggest gap between his musical expression and the spoken word (this is not to be confused with his ability to deal with fame, which was better than the others). McCartney wasn’t horrible – in fact, compared to many people in the public eye, he was pretty darn good - he just was not as good as John, George and Ringo when it came to conveying depth of personality in non-melodic verbal communication. Seeing as we the public get such great insight into the Beatles personalities without ever knowing them personally - through the sheer quantity of documented material - I’m guessing this was probably the case behind closed doors as well. McCartney’s musical expression made up for this gap, though. Perhaps Beatle George did not factor this in.
“Hey Jude” was conceived not long after the Beatles returned home from their India retreat with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. Seeing as John and George stuck it out the longest in Rishikesh, India, it’s always been inferred that those two got the most out of the experience. Yes, it’s pretty apparent that both of them grew significantly around this time in finding ways to express their personal gifts. George’s music grew by leaps and bounds spiritually. John would soon flourish as a troubadour for peace and made bold statements in his music about the power of women. I think Paul grew in wisdom from his India experience too, it’s just that the effect was not as singular or clairvoyant as with John and George. But if you listen to his musical output in 1968 and 1969 - “Blackbird”, “Mother Nature’s Son”, “Let It Be”, “The Long and Winding Road”, much of the medley on side 2 of Abbey Road, and “Hey Jude” among other gems, you just have to tip your cap and acknowledge this fact.
Another significant factor in all the magnificent output by Paul McCartney during this period was John Lennon himself. Lennon challenged McCartney by being brutally honest, even cutting and jabbing at times. In doing so, he was making it clear that there would be no free passes, no dwelling on former success stories, no resting on laurels. It’s the type of challenge that could hurt someone deeply, and this certainly appeared to be the case with Paul (particularly after the band broke up). But McCartney rose to the challenge and – despite being in much more of a heavy environment than his personality was comfortable with – his musical output would prove to be broad and deep. I can relate to both sides of this story – Lennon’s and McCartney’s. I’ve been on both sides of that fence. It is pretty much a given with all the myriad of interrelationships we find ourselves engaged in in the course of our lives.
“Hey Jude” was an amazingly classy and dignified musical statement. Although the song’s lyrics are about John Lennon, I believe they say more about Paul McCartney. In other words, I ask myself more about McCartney as I listen than I do about Lennon. What does it say about a person when they are willing to make such a significant sacrifice? Quite a lot. John Lennon knew the true meaning of the song right off and was very impressed (I did not realize this until many years after I came to the same conclusion). Ultimately, the real barometer of a friendship is not so much how many fun times you have shared, it’s how much you are able to reveal your true self to that person. Paul McCartney pulled this off with “Hey Jude”.
The Beatles performed “Hey Jude” on the telly in 1968 - with David Frost hosting - not long after the song was released. For any Beatles enthusiast who has not seen this, it is worth a viewing (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_MjCqQoLLA ). This was the first live performance by the Beatles in over a year. I love how, early in the video, Paul and George don’t even flinch at John’s antics (at the 19 second mark). Also, there’s the interplay between Paul and John at the 2:47 mark. Priceless. This is about as serious as I’ve ever seen McCartney in a performance. I also love the diversity of the audience that crowds in and sings along to the well-known closing refrain. It speaks to the spirit of the times.
Post breakup, Paul McCartney and John Lennon would take jabs at each other with biting lyrics in their respective songs “Too Many People” and “How do you Sleep”, among others. There will be more on that part of the story in a future entry. This week, I’m content to stick with the upside of the Beatles breakup, manifested in the magnificence that is “Hey Jude”.
- Pete
Saturday, February 1, 2020
Fab Foundations # 5: "Spreading your Wings”
(Personal reflections
inspired by Beatles songs)
Song: “Free as a Bird”
Album: Anthology 1
Release Date: November 1994
Early this week as I began listening to disc one of Anthology 1, which covers the Beatles early years before fame and fortune kicked in, a thought crossed my mind: In my top-tier list of favorite singer/songwriter acts, at least 3 of them - Bob Dylan, Neil Young, and the Beatles – set off while still in their teens to pursue musical dreams far from home (all 3 by the way get a year in review on this Music and Memory blog site). Bob Dylan made his way to Greenwich Village in New York City; a far cry from his home in Northern Minnesota. Neil Young travelled halfway across Canada from Winnipeg to Toronto. And the Beatles left their Liverpool, England home for a city in an entirely different country…. Hamburg, Germany to be precise. All three of these new locales were hip and happening at the given time periods (1961, 1965, and 1960 respectively); with numerous venues for aspiring musicians to possibly catch a break in and hit the big time. Each musician referenced here began his respective journey with nothing but a guitar and a pocketful of hope. They would all live in borderline squalor-like conditions for a time with any thought of a formal education quickly dissipating in the review mirror. Indeed, what they all had chosen to sign up for was the far more informal school of hard knocks.
I’ve read many accounts of those Beatles/Dylan/Young early years in books and magazines, and always find myself captivated. Throughout the week I’ve been thinking about the reasons why, seeing as I don’t know anyone else who gets into such “rockumentaries” to the degree I do. In light of this pondering, I’ve zeroed in on at least one big reason, which is that I find it fascinating to learn the stories of people who take the kinds of risks that these musicians did. The safe bet after all is to heed the words of your elders and get a continuing education or become an apprentice in a trade of some kind. Maybe join the armed forces. But to break off on your own in the hopes of making it as a musician? What percent succeed? Likely it’s a very small number. This is probably the advice that was ringing in the ears of Messrs. Lennon, McCartney, Harrison, Dylan and Young’s at the time they informed their respective authority figures that they were hitting the highway. They had reached the point where the thought of more school and a 9-5 day job afterwards was just not going to cut it for them.
I believe there is a little Woody Guthrie in all of us. Jump a box car and ride, destination unknown. When I was in my early-mid teens, I used to hike the train tracks with my friends. We explored all sorts of places along those rails, from ponds, to streams to wetlands, to large swaths of forest, with not a developed property in site. Most of our travels never ventured beyond the first road overpass, about 3 miles down, but there was one year when we would see how far we could go along those rails, never knowing just where they would lead us. Each time we took it a bit farther, finding ourselves hiking to a second, and then a third overpass. That 3rd overpass was about 10 miles from home. Foreign woods. Foreign surroundings (if you have ever seen the movie “Stand by Me” you can get a hint of what that experience was like). A knee-jerk take on why we did this would be that we were simply scoping out our fascination with the unknown. Very true, but the deeper angle on it was that we were subconsciously beginning the process of breaking away from the home nest and spreading our wings.
At the age of 23, I would take that wanderlust quite a bit further, backpacking across Europe for a summer with my good friend, Bob Mainguy. I worked three jobs to save for that trip, a good portion of which went to airfare and a Eurail pass. I recall my last evening at one of those jobs (bartending). The owner, who rarely spoke to the staff (other than management), approached me and said, “I heard you are leaving us to travel Europe”. After I confirmed this, he said something I’ll never forget (which I paraphrase here): “I am a rich man because I focused on making money when I was your age, but deep down, I wish I did what you are doing. Godspeed”. I was floored. That admission has resonated with me all my life and has factored significantly into how I have parented my children.
Bob and I covered a lot of European ground that summer of ’86, from the top of Norway to the bottom of Spain and Portugal. We lived on a shoestring budget, and often found ourselves resting our heads for the night in train stations, on park benches, or on sandy beaches. And yet, we were free. About as free as one can be, I would think. Such freedom can set your mind off in new directions. I recall near the end of the trip, we were in Ireland (Eurail included ferry service), hiking along the ocean-side cliffs of the Dingle Peninsula, when out of the blue I thought to ask Bob a rather deep question: In the future how would he want to be remembered by his children and his grandchildren? Bob was not quite ready for this, as one would expect considering that he was not even a husband yet, never mind a father or grandfather. And so, he gave a somewhat standard reply related to securing a legacy for being wealthy and wise.
Alas, I was looking for something more profound. Something I couldn’t really grasp myself. Something of the spiritual nature that connected me with what we had been experiencing over the prior months on that great journey of ours. Looking back, it was all about the freedom we were immersed in at the time. I’m thinking it was similar to how the Beatles felt in Hamburg before fame and fortune took over. I wanted to capture that feeling and cork it in a bottle, and then if a grandchild in the future were curious about me, all they would have to do would be to uncork that bottle and breath in the contents. It was one of the first moments when I felt that anything was possible. I still feel that way.
Side note: Recently, I asked a deeply spiritual friend of mine if seeking a legacy equated to a moral quest or conversely, was it being too self-centered? (I was struggling at the time with shifting sands in the workplace). He basically replied that it’s all in the motivation behind that quest. Good answer! I had a feeling that was the case. Seeking a legacy is not necessarily something that should be lumped with negative traits such as pride, avarice, or envy. If the end game is a just one, that drive from within can actually make you a better person.
In their Hamburg, Germany days, the Beatles were near destitute, but they were free. John Lennon has been quoted as saying this was the period when the band was performing at their rock and roll best. They were also very confident, as was Bob Dylan and Neil Young in their early years, when they did not have a pot to piss in. This week, listening to Anthology 1 for the first time, I was pulled in, taken by how solid and loose the Beatles already sounded in their fledgling years, when they were mostly covering material by other musicians. Truthfully, I thought I’d be glossing over this album and moving on swiftly to later Anthology series - which cover their “Fab” years and beyond - to find something to write about. But I kept listening and repeating again and again.
In some of the selections (over 30 in all) the Beatles sound like The Band when they backed up Bob Dylan in ’66 (at the time they were known as the Hawks). The Beatles solid rock sound was 6 years earlier then that famous Dylan “going-electric” tour. It was when rock music was still in its infancy. That’s pretty cutting edge stuff. And so, I take back anything I’ve ever said about the Beatles not being as gifted of a live act as some of the other bands I love. I just had to go back prior to “Love Me Do” - their first record-contract cut in 1962 - back before all the mop-top madness set in. It’s some quality music you hear from those earliest years. That’s what endless hours of performing in Hamburg did for the Beatles. They came back to Liverpool a well-tuned machine and quickly learned that no other band could touch them. Soon enough the word was spreading like wildfire, and long lines would be forming out the door to see the Beatles in places like the Cavern Club.
As another great songwriter, Kris Kristofferson once exclaimed, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose”. That’s one way to look at it. Regardless, it’s a lofty state of mind we all strive for, whether we realize it or not. John Lennon tapped back into that state of mind in the late 70s, singing on a demo tape the lyrics to a new number he was formulating at that time: “Free as a Bird”. Much later - 14 years after Lennon’s death to be precise - the three remaining Beatles received a copy of that recording from Yoko Ono, and used it to rally their pooled talents, putting a final stamp on the foursome’s collective legacy ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ODIvONHPqpk ). This song is the first one you hear on Anthology 1, before the earliest of recorded Beatles music kicks in. An end-as-beginning sort of thing. A connecting of the freedom dots.
I like to imagine that Paul, George and Ringo received that demo from Yoko in a bottle, which was only accessible by first uncorking and then breathing in.
- Pete
p.s. Challenge: How many Beatles songs can you reference in the "Free as a Bird" video? No cheating!
Song: “Free as a Bird”
Album: Anthology 1
Release Date: November 1994
Early this week as I began listening to disc one of Anthology 1, which covers the Beatles early years before fame and fortune kicked in, a thought crossed my mind: In my top-tier list of favorite singer/songwriter acts, at least 3 of them - Bob Dylan, Neil Young, and the Beatles – set off while still in their teens to pursue musical dreams far from home (all 3 by the way get a year in review on this Music and Memory blog site). Bob Dylan made his way to Greenwich Village in New York City; a far cry from his home in Northern Minnesota. Neil Young travelled halfway across Canada from Winnipeg to Toronto. And the Beatles left their Liverpool, England home for a city in an entirely different country…. Hamburg, Germany to be precise. All three of these new locales were hip and happening at the given time periods (1961, 1965, and 1960 respectively); with numerous venues for aspiring musicians to possibly catch a break in and hit the big time. Each musician referenced here began his respective journey with nothing but a guitar and a pocketful of hope. They would all live in borderline squalor-like conditions for a time with any thought of a formal education quickly dissipating in the review mirror. Indeed, what they all had chosen to sign up for was the far more informal school of hard knocks.
I’ve read many accounts of those Beatles/Dylan/Young early years in books and magazines, and always find myself captivated. Throughout the week I’ve been thinking about the reasons why, seeing as I don’t know anyone else who gets into such “rockumentaries” to the degree I do. In light of this pondering, I’ve zeroed in on at least one big reason, which is that I find it fascinating to learn the stories of people who take the kinds of risks that these musicians did. The safe bet after all is to heed the words of your elders and get a continuing education or become an apprentice in a trade of some kind. Maybe join the armed forces. But to break off on your own in the hopes of making it as a musician? What percent succeed? Likely it’s a very small number. This is probably the advice that was ringing in the ears of Messrs. Lennon, McCartney, Harrison, Dylan and Young’s at the time they informed their respective authority figures that they were hitting the highway. They had reached the point where the thought of more school and a 9-5 day job afterwards was just not going to cut it for them.
I believe there is a little Woody Guthrie in all of us. Jump a box car and ride, destination unknown. When I was in my early-mid teens, I used to hike the train tracks with my friends. We explored all sorts of places along those rails, from ponds, to streams to wetlands, to large swaths of forest, with not a developed property in site. Most of our travels never ventured beyond the first road overpass, about 3 miles down, but there was one year when we would see how far we could go along those rails, never knowing just where they would lead us. Each time we took it a bit farther, finding ourselves hiking to a second, and then a third overpass. That 3rd overpass was about 10 miles from home. Foreign woods. Foreign surroundings (if you have ever seen the movie “Stand by Me” you can get a hint of what that experience was like). A knee-jerk take on why we did this would be that we were simply scoping out our fascination with the unknown. Very true, but the deeper angle on it was that we were subconsciously beginning the process of breaking away from the home nest and spreading our wings.
At the age of 23, I would take that wanderlust quite a bit further, backpacking across Europe for a summer with my good friend, Bob Mainguy. I worked three jobs to save for that trip, a good portion of which went to airfare and a Eurail pass. I recall my last evening at one of those jobs (bartending). The owner, who rarely spoke to the staff (other than management), approached me and said, “I heard you are leaving us to travel Europe”. After I confirmed this, he said something I’ll never forget (which I paraphrase here): “I am a rich man because I focused on making money when I was your age, but deep down, I wish I did what you are doing. Godspeed”. I was floored. That admission has resonated with me all my life and has factored significantly into how I have parented my children.
Bob and I covered a lot of European ground that summer of ’86, from the top of Norway to the bottom of Spain and Portugal. We lived on a shoestring budget, and often found ourselves resting our heads for the night in train stations, on park benches, or on sandy beaches. And yet, we were free. About as free as one can be, I would think. Such freedom can set your mind off in new directions. I recall near the end of the trip, we were in Ireland (Eurail included ferry service), hiking along the ocean-side cliffs of the Dingle Peninsula, when out of the blue I thought to ask Bob a rather deep question: In the future how would he want to be remembered by his children and his grandchildren? Bob was not quite ready for this, as one would expect considering that he was not even a husband yet, never mind a father or grandfather. And so, he gave a somewhat standard reply related to securing a legacy for being wealthy and wise.
Alas, I was looking for something more profound. Something I couldn’t really grasp myself. Something of the spiritual nature that connected me with what we had been experiencing over the prior months on that great journey of ours. Looking back, it was all about the freedom we were immersed in at the time. I’m thinking it was similar to how the Beatles felt in Hamburg before fame and fortune took over. I wanted to capture that feeling and cork it in a bottle, and then if a grandchild in the future were curious about me, all they would have to do would be to uncork that bottle and breath in the contents. It was one of the first moments when I felt that anything was possible. I still feel that way.
Side note: Recently, I asked a deeply spiritual friend of mine if seeking a legacy equated to a moral quest or conversely, was it being too self-centered? (I was struggling at the time with shifting sands in the workplace). He basically replied that it’s all in the motivation behind that quest. Good answer! I had a feeling that was the case. Seeking a legacy is not necessarily something that should be lumped with negative traits such as pride, avarice, or envy. If the end game is a just one, that drive from within can actually make you a better person.
In their Hamburg, Germany days, the Beatles were near destitute, but they were free. John Lennon has been quoted as saying this was the period when the band was performing at their rock and roll best. They were also very confident, as was Bob Dylan and Neil Young in their early years, when they did not have a pot to piss in. This week, listening to Anthology 1 for the first time, I was pulled in, taken by how solid and loose the Beatles already sounded in their fledgling years, when they were mostly covering material by other musicians. Truthfully, I thought I’d be glossing over this album and moving on swiftly to later Anthology series - which cover their “Fab” years and beyond - to find something to write about. But I kept listening and repeating again and again.
In some of the selections (over 30 in all) the Beatles sound like The Band when they backed up Bob Dylan in ’66 (at the time they were known as the Hawks). The Beatles solid rock sound was 6 years earlier then that famous Dylan “going-electric” tour. It was when rock music was still in its infancy. That’s pretty cutting edge stuff. And so, I take back anything I’ve ever said about the Beatles not being as gifted of a live act as some of the other bands I love. I just had to go back prior to “Love Me Do” - their first record-contract cut in 1962 - back before all the mop-top madness set in. It’s some quality music you hear from those earliest years. That’s what endless hours of performing in Hamburg did for the Beatles. They came back to Liverpool a well-tuned machine and quickly learned that no other band could touch them. Soon enough the word was spreading like wildfire, and long lines would be forming out the door to see the Beatles in places like the Cavern Club.
As another great songwriter, Kris Kristofferson once exclaimed, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose”. That’s one way to look at it. Regardless, it’s a lofty state of mind we all strive for, whether we realize it or not. John Lennon tapped back into that state of mind in the late 70s, singing on a demo tape the lyrics to a new number he was formulating at that time: “Free as a Bird”. Much later - 14 years after Lennon’s death to be precise - the three remaining Beatles received a copy of that recording from Yoko Ono, and used it to rally their pooled talents, putting a final stamp on the foursome’s collective legacy ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ODIvONHPqpk ). This song is the first one you hear on Anthology 1, before the earliest of recorded Beatles music kicks in. An end-as-beginning sort of thing. A connecting of the freedom dots.
I like to imagine that Paul, George and Ringo received that demo from Yoko in a bottle, which was only accessible by first uncorking and then breathing in.
- Pete
p.s. Challenge: How many Beatles songs can you reference in the "Free as a Bird" video? No cheating!
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