(Personal
reflections inspired by Beatles songs)
Song: “She’s Leaving Home”
Album: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
Release Date: May 1967
In just
about every “top” list there is for best Rock albums of all time, one is sure
to see Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band nestled in there somewhere
(most often at or near the top of the given top list). I have to agree with this assessment,
particularly when considering the trailblazing nature of the record upon its
release in 1967. One of the best critiques of its effect on baby-boomer culture
that I’ve ever read was that it propelled us from a world of black and white to
a world of technicolor.
But
conceptually I can’t help thinking… oh, what could have been. There’s a hint of
a concept in Sgt. Pepper. But just a hint (and maybe that was enough to light the
spark for the Rock world). It would be left to the Who to hit the ball out of
the park two years later, with the release of Tommy. From there the concept album would manifest
itself in many Rock releases throughout the 70s; the decade that for all intents
and purposes owns the artistic rights to the applied science of albums as story lines.
As
I’ve thought about it this week, I’ve concluded that the Beatles were never
really cut out for this notion of a concept album. They certainly goofed around
with the idea, starting with Help (the movie) followed by Sgt
Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and finally Magical Mystery Tour. But
none of these really coalesced into a narrative. This got me thinking that
maybe what concept albums need in their incubation stages is a singular
brilliant songwriter, such as what Pink Floyd had with Roger Waters (Dark
Side of the Moon, The Wall, Animals), and what the Kinks had with Ray
Davies (Preservation Act 1 and 2, Schoolboys in Disgrace)
and what the Who had with Pete Townshend (the aforementioned Tommy, Lifehouse
and Quadrophenia).
The
Beatles had 3 great songwriters. Too much tug-of-war perhaps? This appears to
be the case with Sgt. Pepper, where the others never really ran with Paul
McCartney’s original idea of separating themselves from reality by pretending
to be this Lonely Hearts-Club band (McCartney’s thinking was that this would
give them artistic license to create music out of the box). This “too many
cooks” theory certainly holds some merit, but there has to be more to it when
you consider that none of the Beatles made the concept album work in their solo
careers either.
There
are other factors to ponder too regarding the conceptual shortfalls of Sgt
Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, including this major disconnect: The
album’s title; the outfits of the Beatles on the cover; and a handful of tracks
are a bow to the past. But Sgt. Pepper as a whole ball-of-wax was the
blueprint for the time period it was produced, particularly in relation to what
was happening with the burgeoning counterculture. In other words, it was not
about the past, it was about the present and near future. Hippies would
gravitate to Sgt. Pepper as if it were truth serum. It was the portal to
Monterey, Woodstock and the Haight-Ashbury scene. And yes, I’m sure it
contributed to the mind expansion of Messrs. Waters, Davies and Townshend,
among many others (the Moody Blues, the Beach Boys and Jimi Hendrix for
example).
Which
brings me back to my “what could have been” conceptual lament in regard to Sgt.
Pepper. I am after all a child of the 70s’; that supersonic concept-album
decade when record covers, lyrics, and album interpretation reigned supreme.
I’d like to think I know a thing or two about formulating album-oriented Rock n’
Roll narratives. That said, my thinking is that, with a tweak here, and a
mind-meld there, Sgt. Pepper could have been a full-blown bonafide concept
album.
Here’s
how it could have played out:
“She’s
Leaving Home” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VaBPY78D88g ) should have opened
the album. The song is so very symbolic of what was happening in the 60’s: New lifestyles
and priorities leaving old ones behind. It’s not quite Bob Dylan’s “The Times
They Are A-Changin”, but it’s oriented in that direction, and good enough in
laying the groundwork for a narrative: The notion of a young woman running from
her sheltered life – guitar in hand - to catch on with the scene. Her Name:
Lucy.
Next
up is “Fixing A Hole” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPBd8eHQqIw
). This is the theme song
for the young guy “from the motor trade” who Lucy rendezvous’ with. He
too is running away, but in his case it’s from the drudgery of his 9 to 5
working class week (he’s a few years older than Lucy). He’s tried to conform to his parents and
grandparent’s world. But it’s not working. His name: Billy Shears.
They
hop a bus and make their way west to San Francisco, but the scene there is
maddening (“Good Morning” > https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=Good+Morning+beatles+ ) until they see a psychedelic
flyer on a telephone poll at the intersection of Haight and Ashbury streets
which advertises a commune an hour or so north of the city. They make their way to the commune and soon
discover that it has gained a reputation for growing the best strawberries in
the region (“Strawberry Fields Forever”, which should have been on the album,
but was released as single beforehand > https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=44GB53rnI3c ).
All
is right with this new life on the commune for both Lucy (“Lucy In the Sky with
Diamonds” > https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=naoknj1ebqI ) and Billy (“It’s
Getting Better” > https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EGlo9LzmOME
).
The
charismatic leader of the commune is a guy by the name of Sargent Pepper. Some
call him the “Pied Pepper”, others just use his nickname, ‘Sarge’. Pepper makes
it clear to all new arrivals that his namesake, Sargent, has medieval English
origins that means “to serve” and that this is what he is there to do. This
attitude permeates its way throughout the commune.
Sargent
Pepper has an interesting background. He’s British but spent much of his youth
in British-controlled India. This is where he says he got his spiritual and
communal views on life.
Sargent
Pepper takes Billy and Lucy under his wing, partly because he sees musical
talent blossoming in Lucy, who plays guitar and sings while out and about the
commune. Pepper, we come to understand, has grand musical ambitions. He’s played
tabla drums all his life, which he packed with him for his travels from India to
California. He also packed a sitar, which he is far more rudimentary with. Pepper has written a number of songs. One of them is called “Within
You Without You” and he tries to perform it with Lucy. It doesn’t quite pan out
at first, particularly with either one of them singing. Then Billy decides to
give the vocals a whirl. Lucy picks up the sitar, and in no time has begun learning the intricate, bizarre chord changes. Suddenly, it all falls into place ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HsffxGyY4ck ).
After
a few weeks messing around and jamming, they spread their wings and bring on
board another fledgling musician from the commune as their keyboardist. Her
name is Rita, and she too has escaped work drudgery; in her case as a meter
maid in Brooklyn, NY (“Lovely Rita” > https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ysDwR5SIR1Q ). They also bring a young
bass player on board, after he flees from the circus - which is at that time
making its way through the region - to join the commune. His name: Kris Kite.
This Kite is one cool cat who has all sorts of high-flying ideas. He also has
great audio-engineering skills, having mastered the Circus’ sound system. His knowledge
defies his age, to the point where the others start calling him Mr. Kite (“Being
for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!” > https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJVWZy4QOy0).
Not
soon after, the band hits the big time after releasing a hit single “All You
Need is Love” (also released around the time of Sgt. Pepper > https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4EGczv7iiEk ), which they record
themselves with the entire commune joining in on the chorus. A number of very
successful albums and tours follow. Sgt. Pepper gains world renown for his songwriting,
but also his altruism. The band performs numerous charity concerts. It all
comes to a sudden end, however, when Pepper dies in a car crash. The band
members are scattered about that day, and each one gets the news in his/her own
unique way (“A Day in the Life” > https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UYeV7jLBXvA ).
Mr.
Kite takes leadership of Sargent Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, but the spirit
is lost. The band breaks up.
Flash
forward a decade or so. The band reunites for a one-off 20th
anniversary show. Mr. Kite introduces them with the opening lines to “Sgt
Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”: “It was 20 years ago today; Sgt.
Pepper taught the band to play” > https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VtXl8xAPAtA
). The band receives
thundering applause, after which Billy Shears takes over the lead to sing “Little
Help from My Friends” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0C58ttB2-Qg). The show ends with
Lucy and Billy singing “When I’m Sixty Four” to each other ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HCTunqv1Xt4
).
Shucks,
… they “made the grade” after all. (I had to fit in this song somewhere!)
There
you go, there’s my script. Perhaps there’s a little of The Graduate is
in there. Maybe a bit of Easy Rider, or even Forest Gump. Maybe there’s a bit of the story of Fleetwood
Mac in there too. Maybe a little Joni Mitchell. Maybe a little Neil Young. If
only the Beatles had put a bit more thought into what they were doing, they
would have predated all of this.
So,
what is the underlying concept? Utopia? Yeah, why not. This was after all the
spirit of the counterculture scene in the 60s. And one could argue it was the
spirit of Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band as well.
In
the end, perhaps the Beatles never did a full blown concept album, because,
well…. they were the concept! But it’s fun to imagine what could have been.
- Pete (from Pepperell)
Saturday, March 14, 2020
Saturday, March 7, 2020
Fab Foundations # 10: “Visceral”
(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
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
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
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