Fab Foundations # 26: “Shaggy Dog”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “Give Peace a Chance”

Album: Released as a single

Release Date: July 1969

I got my first Covid-era haircut a few weeks back. It was on the first day of barber-shop openings in Massachusetts. I desperately needed a haircut (even more so than normal for me) but ended up acting on this last minute with an on-a-whim phone call for an appointment to my longtime barber, Joe. Whaddaya know; he had one slot opened for late in the afternoon.

When the time came, I pulled up in front of his shop and waited outside until the customer before me came out (all this as directed by the sign on the door). I then walked in with my mask on. My first observation was that Joe appeared to be a bit discombobulated, which was understandable seeing as he not only had to wear a mask himself (all day); he had to wear a face-shield visor too (per regulations).  Joe greeted me while in the process of vacuuming and spraying down the barber chair with cleaner (more regulations). It was clear that he was in the early stages of processing this new normal in his profession.

After things settled down with Joe, I sat in the chair. We proceeded to talk about the crazy state-of-affairs, but we also talked music, as we always do. Indeed, Joe is a fellow Bob Dylan fan. He also loves Pink Floyd and the Who. Needless to say, we get along and are never short of conversation. Soon enough, to my relief, some of the loose strands of my Bozo hairdo started falling to the floor. Then, Joe got down to business with the finer precisions of his craft by first wetting my head with his water sprayer. Ahhh… well, this was what he thought he was using, because after dousing me and pulling out his scissors, he froze. In the mirror I can see shock in his eyes, and he soon tells me why: He just loaded my scalp with the cleaning fluid! Turns out the water bottle was next to the cleaning fluid bottle on his work shelf and, well, there you go (even with my poor sense of smell there was no way I could tell with my mask on).

Within seconds Joe has morphed from a person in shock to one in hysterics. He apologizes profusely through tears of laughter and offers my haircut for free (I refuse).  Joe then re-douses my hair (with water this time) and proceeds to give me a top-notch haircut (according to my Mom and my tough-critic wife).  Maybe Joe was inadvertently on to something? (side note: there is more to this comedy-of-errors storyline for anyone interested, but for this blog entry, I’ve gone far enough).

Another positive development in relation to that blunder (aside from the top notch haircut) is this writeup, because it’s how I got my primary talking point for it, which is …hair (and so, thanks Joe!). I got to thinking ‘ya know, I’ve written 325 entries on this blog site about Rock music and its effect on me, and yet, I’ve never really focused on the style, the attire, the appearance, the Hair’. Afterall, the Rock and Roll culture I grew up in has seen its share of hair styles and related attire, and I have certainly partaken in this range myself. Yeah, so let me think (pause)….although I’ve never embarked on the rarified path of a Punk mohawk or a Motown afro, I did my part for many styles including the middle-part, flat top, spike, Pete Townshend-style scruff (often), fully bearded (twice), mullet (yow!), and even a ponytail for a short spell. I also wore a bandana for months on end (while in Canada) and baseball caps backwards for equally long stretches (does that fit the Rock culture? Not sure).

It all started with long hair (in part a reaction to the ‘scuz’ cuts I’d have to get in grade school). I wore my relatively lengthy hair for a number of years in the late 70s. It was not as long as some guys my age, but pretty long (~ shoulder length). And it was long enough so that a neighborhood friend’s conservative Dad occasionally referred to me as a ‘shaggy dog’.  Now, this is interesting, because up to that point it was all about simply liking the way I looked. I’d never really thought of myself as making a statement. That dig was an eyeopener and ended up having the adverse effect of my friend’s Dad’s likely intention (to change me). In fact, at least in part due to that jab, that hair style became a part of my credentials over the ensuing years; a physical affirmation of measured rebellion against entrenched authority and structure. I live that rebellion to this day (although this is not always as clear in my appearance).

The hairstyles and attire of many of us who loved Rock and Roll were outward projections of a quest for something much deeper on the inside however, which centered on peace, love and understanding. All the while, there was a deemphasis on the allure of material wealth in an attempt to free up the spirit for a greater truth. These generational priority shifts were personified in the trajectory of the Beatles story through the 60s, starting with their early focus on love songs, and then evolving through their all-inclusive business model (Apple) and their quest for spiritual enlightenment (transcendental meditation).

In the last year of the Beatles (1969), John Lennon, along with Yoko Ono, took this trajectory another big leap forward by diving headlong into the Peace Movement, which was significant in those times due to the war in Vietnam. By the mid-70s, I was taking in the Beatles story in rapid-fire fashion, and the piece of that story that was most intriguing to me was this John and Yoko thing. There were bold statements and nudity and rebellion and long, long hair, and bizarre practices such as ‘Bagism’ and ‘Bead-ins’.  What was this all about?

I want to take a bit of a side-step here which should help me get more to the point. Beatles Anthology is a must read for Beatles fans. The four Beatles get quoted throughout, but so too do a handful of their associates including George Martin (their record producer), Brian Epstein (their manager), Neil Aspinall (their road manager), Mal Evans (their longtime catch-all assistant), and Derek Taylor (their press officer). I have to say, of all these interviewee’s Taylor is the most candid and colorful (and that is saying something because everyone is candid and colorful in this book).

Four pages in the book (pg. 332-335) go into a nice bit of detail on the “Ballad of John and Yoko”, a song-story about their very public involvement in the peace movement. In this section, Derek Taylor explains most succinctly what was happening: “They had the (Montreal) bed-in for eight days (in the Queen Elizabeth Hotel). Hundreds of people came to the bedside. The questions were dealt with by John and Yoko in the full spirit of Apple (the Beatles record company), because they made themselves completely available to anyone on earth who wanted to come into the bedroom – provided they were not obviously carrying a blood-stained axe. People could come in and ask them questions. Maybe they came in thousands, it felt like it.”  

What grabs me here is “eight days” (a week?).  It’s hard to fathom being interviewed for one day by hordes of people while lying in a hotel bed, never mind eight days. And John and Yoko did this in Amsterdam too; their hotel room opened to the public from 9 am to 9 pm each day at each venue. I’ve watched parts of these “Bed-ins for Peace” (which were mostly filmed). Yes, there were empathetic visitors, but there was also cynicism and antagonism, primarily from “establishment” media types (Al Capp and Gloria Emerson for example). And although they came across as a bit awkward in their response at times (who wouldn’t?) the couple took much of it in stride, and always reeled the exchange back to the task at hand: Campaigning for peace. 

Then there was Bagism, whereby John and Yoko would cover themselves in a bag during interviews. The idea being that it would remove prejudice in the exchange (of skin color, looks, hair length, etc.), and force the interviewer to focus on the message alone (again, peace). There were other gestures too, including a giant billboard in Times Square that December which read “War Is Over (if you want it). Happy Christmas from John and Yoko”.  I believe all of this had a tremendous effect on the youth of the world (along with Martin Luther King’s similar non-violent protestations), which continues to play out today with the “Black Lives Matter” movement and other campaigns for peace, love and understanding. It certainly had this effect on me.

Of course, the John and Yoko efforts also played out in the music. Later, after the Beatles had broken up, this would manifest itself in John Lennon’s world-renowned song “Imagine”.  In 1969, however, Paul McCartney would get (non-participatory) partner credit for Lennon’s first concerted musical foray into his and Yoko’s endeavor; that being the song “Give Peace a Chance” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3_0GqPvr4U ). If you have never seen this video before, it’s worth taking it in (it was filmed during their Montreal Bed-in).  John Lennon’s sense of humor comes out in the lyrics, but you can also appreciate his earnestness as you watch. It’s such a fascinating and unique video of a brief period in our recent history that in all likelihood will never be repeated.

As I watched the “Give Peace a Chance” video for the umpteenth time this week (as I was wrapping up this entry) I spotted the “Hair Peace” sign behind John Lennon, which brought me back again to my “shaggy dog” years (or as John and Yoko dub it in the song; "Shagism").  I realize now that my priorities and values were already pretty well entrenched by then.  I’m sure there are many other factors, but high among them, I have a former Beatle to thank.

- Pete

This entry is dedicated to my daughter Charlotte, who carries the torch forward

Fab Foundations # 25: “Going Back to the White Well” (3 of 4)

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “Long, Long, Long”

Album: The Beatles

Release Date: November 1968

Continuing my White Album review song by song, here I tackle side 3. If you have not already done so, I suggest reading the introduction to Fab Foundations # 4 as a prelude to this entry ( https://pete-gemsandbeyond.blogspot.com/2020/01/fab-foundations-4-going-back-to-white.html ) seeing as it explains my personal introduction to the White Album on Christmas Day as a young teenager many years ago. Side 2 is tackled in Fab Foundations # 15 ( https://pete-gemsandbeyond.blogspot.com/2020/04/fab-foundations-15-going-back-to-white.html ).

My great friend, Mac and I attended a packed Berklee Performance Center in Boston on January 28, 2014 to watch local Rock musicians and Berklee faculty perform The White Album in its entirety (complete with orchestra pit, a rock-band section of the stage, and a parade of lead singers). It was extremely well done - invoking a sense of passion for the music by all who participated - and was something that I never thought I would see performed by anyone. In other words, it was special.

Side 3 was a highlight that evening because the general feel of that side fit in extremely well with the raucous mood of the event. Afterall, three of the songs on side 3 are among the hardest rockers on the entire album (“Birthday”, “Everybody’s Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey”, and “Helter Skelter”) and two others are HEAVY (“Yer Blues” and “Sexy Sadie”).  The remaining two songs (“Mother Nature’s Son” and my favorite on Side 3 “Long, Long, Long”) are serene, beautiful and impassioned, which was needed to give the Berklee crowd a bit of a reflective break from the fever pitch that was playing out all around us with the other 5 songs during that stretch of the magnificent White Album performance. 

What follows is my critique of Side 3 of the White Album, track by track. As the case with the other 2 related entries, the main songwriter’s first name is in parenthesis (who needs a last name with this band?):

White Album, Side 3 (of 4)

“Birthday” (Paul). There are but a small handful of modern musicians/bands who have made big-event-days-of-the-year their own through song to these ears. Let’s see, off the top of my head there’s the Grateful Dead with “U.S. Blues” (4^th of July) and Arlo Guthrie with “Alice’s Restaurant” (Thanksgiving). And then there’s the Beatles, who pull this off with 2 big-event songs; the already-covered “Your Mother Should Know” (Mother’s Day) and of course “Birthday”. If the Beatles “Birthday” could contribute to a laying down of the weary tune that is “Happy Birthday” for the foreseeable future, we would all be the better off (although in the Steeves family we do spice up that old refrain with some improv and a classic add-on tag).

I love all the vocals in this song, lead and otherwise.  There’s the early Paul McCartney slightly faded count from 1 to 8 (which makes “Birthday” perfect for any kid turning 8-years old). The song really begins to soar midway through when John Lennon takes the tension-building lead for a short spell, singing the threepeat “Yes where going to a party party”, after which the buildup is released in the music and with Paul McCartney singing “I would like you to dance” several times. McCartney’s singing here is filled with celebratory bravado and a touch of lunacy. The ladies in the studio that evening, Yoko Ono and Patti Boyd Harrison chime in too, responding to McCartney’s request with a lovely and ethereal soprano-pitched “Birthday”.  All this gives the song a feel of live immediacy. Oh, to be a fly on the wall for that studio session.

When daughter Charlotte and son Peter were younger this song would be cranked to the max on the mornings of their birthdays. From that moment it was 3 minutes of frenzied spinning and twirling of them in the air - while singing myself - which would leave me exhausted by the end of it. This breathless state was of no matter to the kids, who would insist I do it again… and again. I obliged as long as I could bear it, often finding my second and third winds (finding that new burst of energy was less of a problem the years they turned eight years old).

“Yer Blues” (John). As the case with the transition from “Martha My Dear” to “I’m So Tired” on side 2, we hear another major mood swing here.  But again, in the uniquely wonderful and strange ways of the White Album, it works. “Yer Blues” is the second song on the album where John Lennon is expressing the trauma and pain of being parentless (the first, “Julia”).  Here we hear some of the most personal gut-wrenching lyrics in all of Rock and Roll (Pete Townshend’s “Empty Glass” also comes to mind). 

There was no filtering in John Lennon’s music, which reflects his personality.  Lennon was an artist through and through, to the degree that non-artistic endeavors that most of us take for granted as being part of our daily lives, such as fiscal responsibility or being tactful and prudent appear to have been completely foreign to him. Oddly, this was one of his many endearing qualities and it was what made him brilliant at his craft.

John Lennon performed “Yer Blues” in a concert setting of sorts, just around the time the White Album came out. He did this at the one-off Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus event (this filmed event was not released by the Rolling Stones for decades due to them being disappointed in their own performance).  At that event, Lennon enlisted a super band to perform with him: Keith Richards on bass, Eric Clapton on guitar, and Mitch Mitchell on drums. It’s strange watching Lennon on stage with other musicians besides the Beatles, which got me thinking that one thing he and Paul McCartney had in common was that both appear to be - at least to some degree - loners.  George Harrison and Ringo Starr were friend magnets but McCartney and Lennon would ultimately rely on their soul-mate wives (Linda McCartney and Yoko Ono) for deep friendship (to push this point a bit; I often read quotes where McCartney says things like ‘we were friendly with so and so” where Harrison would say it more like ‘Brian Jones was my friend’. Lennon himself rarely commented on friendships). 

A sense of this sort of isolation permeates throughout “Yer Blues”.

One thing that this song has in common with “Birthday” is that live immediacy.  I imagine that what we hear when we listen to “Yer Blues” is precisely how those in the studio heard it on the day it was produced. No overdubs, no corrections.  A pure, unadulterated live sound.   

“Mother Nature’s Son” (Paul). Ever since I was a very young lad, I’ve been an animal lover.  This song contributed to me rounding out that love of animals to the rest of the natural world.  John Denver would later master the art of celebrating the Earth’s splendors in song, but here we hear one of the earliest ruminations on the topic in the rock genera. 

Given a fresh spotlight, I would think “Mother Nature’s Son” could reemerge out of the wilderness as a theme song for this day and age, seeing that one thing I’ve noticed a lot of these past few Covid months is kids out and about on bicycles, in yards playing, and even in the woods. It reminds me of the 70s.  I was unequivocally an outdoor kid way back when, and so were all of my friends. In such an environment, you would never know when a chance encounter with nature would lead to a bit of enlightenment.  It may have been some bizarre bug making its way up a tree trunk, or a parade of ants making their way along the crack in a sidewalk, or a baby bird scurrying through the yard having fallen out of its nest, or a giant snapping turtle emerging out of the edge of a field, or a sprout shooting its way out of an acorn. You have to give these encounters a chance though, and the only way to do that is get outside.

It was clear with the White Album that the Beatles had moved on from the 1967 psychedelia that was Sgt Pepper and Magical Mystery Tour.  The stripped down feel of this album has proven to thrive the test of time much better than its kaleidoscopic predecessors. There’s a rootsy honesty that emanates in the music, which can be taken literally when it comes to “Mother Nature’s Son”.

“Everybody’s Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey” (John). When I first got into this song, I had no idea it was about John Lennon’s relationship to Yoko Ono. I simply thought Lennon had a pet monkey.  The lyrics were relatively inconsequential to me though. I was much more intrigued by the pace and pulse of the song.

The best parts of this song are the spontaneous ones. There are Paul McCartney’s background “Whoo”s throughout, which are great, but the best of the spontaneity comes near the end of the song including all the staggering “come on, come on” lyrics that the entire band chimes in on. My favorite moment though is the quick John Entwistle-esque 3-second bass run that McCartney plays during that stretch. It may have singlehandedly opened my mind up to that instrument, which I have since picked up myself. 

“Everybody’s Got Something to Hide” takes me back to the comment I made earlier (for “Yer Blues”) about the pure artist in John Lennon.  He actually explains it pretty well in these lyrics. Lennon was if anything about as honest and open as they come (brutally so at times). Here we hear him complaining a bit that this level of honesty was not always being reciprocated by others around him… even by his bandmates.  This is a sentiment to contemplate in our own lives. Is there such a thing as too much truthfulness when it comes to a relationship? I’m of the growing belief that there is not.

“Sexy Sadie” (John). Here we hear John Lennon lashing out in classic Bob Dylan style.  On the receiving end, none other than the Beatles then-Guru, Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, who Lennon ultimately suspected was more compromised with human weaknesses than the Maharishi was willing to admit. Lennon’s original lyrics for the song were much harsher than what ended up on record, thanks to George Harrison, who talked his fellow Beatle out of the worst of the vitriol (Harrison also disagreed somewhat with Lennon’s conclusions on the Maharishi).

One of my favorite passages in the Beatles Anthology tome was John Lennon talking about the Beatles 1968 trip to India to study transcendental meditation with the Maharishi. One comment he makes was that those who were there (including a number of other famous people such as Donovan, Mike Love, and Mia Farrow) seemed to be in competition to see who could “get cosmic first”.  Lennon then goes on to say, “what I didn’t know was that I was already cosmic”.  I can relate to that!

There’s nothing that stands out musically regarding “Sexy Sadie”. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice song and all. However, as with many of John Lennon songs from Revolver forward, his interest appears to be more in what he was saying and how he was saying it then in the musical accompaniment. And so, to enjoy this song you need to focus on Lennon’s vocal delivery, which is what I did from the first time I ever listened.

“Helter Skelter” (Paul).  If not for being hijacked by a bad group of people in California, this song would have the deserved reputation as aptly describing the mindset of a kid in an amusement park.  Can’t you just picture it playing loudly as you cruise around in the bumper cars, or spin wildly out of control on the tilt-a-whirl or zero-gravity rides?  (I’m thinking this has occurred for me at least once).

As the case with “Birthday” and “Back in the USSR”, this Paul McCartney song rocks hard. In this case it’s long too. In fact, the song rocks so hard and long that, when it finally concludes (after several false endings), Ringo Starr yells out those famous impromptu words “I’ve got blisters on my fingers!”. That utterance never gets old. (Side note: can anyone name any other utterances that made it on a record in the heat of the moment? Two spontaneous utterances I can think of are “Alright Wilson, pick it” (on Neil Young’s “Losing End”) and “I saw ya” (on the Who’s “Happy Jack”)).

Being a workaholic and perfectionist, Paul McCartney could push his fellow Beatles to the limits and beyond at times (another recollection of this is of his endless takes for “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer”, which John Lennon actually blew off).  From a fans perspective we should be grateful for that quest for perfection seeing as “Helter Skelter” is a fast moving joy of a ride.

“Long, Long, Long”. (George). The Beatles save the best for last on side 3, at least in my mind. In fact,, I’ll go as far as saying that “Long, Long, Long” is the most underrated of all Beatles songs ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e9vUCdfwlgw ).  It always slips under the radar when their music is being rated. One big reason for this is that it is a deceptively subtle song. The other reason: It’s the only Beatles song that is explicitly about God, which, unfortunately, many of the counterculture struggle with. Not me.

Passion shines in “Long, Long, Long”. It’s basically a love song to God. I thought about this some over the week. At a time when John Lennon was getting overwhelmed with his love for Yoko Ono, the same thing was happening with George Harrison, but in a different light. Beautiful things were happening all around the Beatles camp, but at the same time it was all creating deep fissures between band members, because none of these developments were interrelated to the band itself.

Why do I love this song? Well, aside from it being about God, the music, lyrics and singing in the bridge is exquisite. When Harrison sings “so many tears I was searching”, so many tears I was wasting, oh, oh!”, I feel it to my very soul. Listen close to McCartney efforts on the Hammond Organ here too. Beatle Paul was bonding with his longtime brother in arms. The closing of the song has a nice touch too. George adds an extra verse “you know that I need you” that breaks out of the song structure and adds intimacy at the same time.  Wonderful.

Well, there you have it; my critique of side 3 of the White Album. I hope you connect with at least some of my insights.  I already look forward to doing the same for the fourth and final side.

- Pete

Fab Foundations # 24: “Emptying the Closet of One’s Mind”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “I Am the Walrus”

Album: Magical Mystery Tour

Release Date: December 1967

I watched my 3^rd in-chronological-order Beatles movie this week for this Fab Foundations series: Magical Mystery Tour.  This was actually a made-for-TV movie (British TV in the 60s that is). It came in at just under an hour, but it felt longer than that due to all that gets thrown at you in the interim. I had trouble finding the darn thing, but son Peter came to the rescue with his beyond-my-interest-in-understanding cable-box contraption. Within a few clicks of a button, lo and behold a Magical Bus was rolling across my flat screen!

As with all the other Beatles movies, I had never watched this film from beginning to end before this year (Side Note: Reading these blog entries, you may at times come to the conclusion that I am some type of crazed, over-the-top, avid fan of each of the brilliant musicians I have written about these past 10 years; that I am someone who needs to see and understand all of their output. There have been times where I have wondered this myself. But in general, I don’t believe this is the case. I delve deep enough to make the connections that are important to me. The rest is fluff. But I did make a promise at the beginning of this series to watch each of the 5 Beatles movies (or is it 6) over the course of this blog series and critique them, and so I am following through with that).

Ok, back to my narrative. I did not subject Peter, Nancy or Charlotte to watch Magical Mystery Tour with me this week. No, I knew beforehand that this had to be a personal experience. The film was too amateurish I thought (based on having read books, reviews and articles about it). Too Avant Garde I thought. Too… chemically induced (when I explained this later to Peter, he responded that he wished he watched it with me). All this was indeed the case, but, to my pleasant surprise I found myself chuckling early and often.

Due to their splendidly unique Fab appeal with the world at the time (splendidly unique for any time actually), the Beatles could get away with the bizzaro at this stage in their career. I say this in a good way. Why not seize such a moment? Yes, there are strange, inexplicable goings-on in Magical Mystery Tour (the plot; a countryside bus tour being remotely guided by giddy magicians) and yet none of it is uppity or contrived. On the contrary, we get to see the Beatles in their then true, unabashed selves: A late-60s’ flower-power experience if there ever was one.

Mystery Tour was a Paul McCartney conceived movie, but it had John Lennon’s buy-in all the way (George Harrison was another matter). This is what makes the viewing experience fun and interesting. McCartney and Lennon would soon be diverging on many artistic decisions related to the Beatles, but here we see a last ditch effort at comradery. 

There were several highlights for me. One was watching the busload of revelers singing a handful of oldies - beverages of choice in hand – as the magical tour hit an evening happy-hour phase (Ringo Starr is particularly amusing in these scenes).  Several other highlights were of the 5 magicians (the Beatles and their longtime roadie Mal Evans) weaving their fantastical plans for the tour (my one wish is that there could have been more of this hilarity). 

The best of the highlights though were the music videos. Essentially, here we see the origins of MTV in Magical Mystery Tour. The accompanying album consisted of 6 songs (what was referred to in those days as an EP, which consisted of more music than a two-sided single, but less than an album). Each song was played in its entirety in the movie (including the Mothers-Day featured “Your Mother Should Know” link in Fab Foundations # 19 from a few weeks back). The top dog in all of these music videos? Unquestionably it is “I Am the Walrus” ( https://vimeo.com/330507673 ).

Magical Mystery Tour was the 3rd Beatles album in a row (arguably the 5^th) where John Lennon took the prize for most revolutionary, innovative song (“A Day in the Life” off Sgt. Pepper and “Tomorrow Never Knows” off Revolver being the prior). “I Am the Walrus” is a mind bender; a blend of poetry and music that significantly contributed to the ‘magic’ of the 60s. Trying to comprehend it is beside the point. Simply immersing yourself in it is the key.

Flashback to a moment during my young teenage years (ahh, to be in that state-of-mind again) and the old stately home of my longtime friend John Roche’s. The two of us are sitting on the foyer staircase and John’s brand new “Blue Album” (the Beatles latter-years greatest hits) is ringing in my ears for the first time. We have the liner notes pulled out as we listen. We repeat play “I Am the Walrus” a handful of times because it is so mesmerizing. One lyric I recall us being transfixed on was “Yellow matter custard dripping from a dead dog’s eye”. These lyrics were way out there, but not elusive to these ears. To be sure, this song and these lyrics were compelling. It came down to how you approached it. Our natural inclination was not to not so much to try to understand the meaning. What we were transfixed by was that such a lyrical line even existed. That someone could have come up with such a thought. And this was just one lyrical line of MANY.

I’m fascinated today at how distinct that type of moment was on friend-John’s staircase compared to what other generations have experienced before or after (a big reason why I am writing this blog is to try to get to the root of this notion). We were young and impressionable, and here was poetry, delivered in a way that we could digest and enjoy. Personally, the world of art was beginning to explode all around us with this music, weaving its way into parts of our brain we didn’t even know existed.  It opened our minds in unimaginable ways. Got us to think thoughts we would never have had otherwise. We were not the only ones.

It had been quite some time, but the lyrics to “I Am the Walrus” flowed from my tongue this past week as if I’d been reciting them every day for the past 45 years (it’s amazing how something you memorize in your youth can stay ingrained). But as the case with any great work of art, a few lyrics stood out way more this week than I ever recall from before, including “Corporation T-Shirt” (who woulda thunk the corporate world was already omnipresent at that time) and “Mister City, policeman sitting pretty little policemen in a row” (considering these times). This got me thinking: There’s more of a general political underlying sentiment playing out in “I Am the Walrus” than I’d ever really considered before.

A bit of research confirmed my suspicions. The kernel of an idea for “I Am the Walrus” came from the poem “The Walrus and the Carpenter” by Lewis Carroll, which appeared in Carroll’s book Through the Looking Glass (the sequel to Alice In Wonderland). The poem was recited by Tweedledee and Tweedledum to Alice. It’s a difficult poem to interpret (as the case with “I Am the Walrus”), but John Lennon read it as a lesson on the pitfalls of capitalism. In Lennon’s mind though, he himself got it backwards. Before producing “I Am the Walrus” Lennon was of the belief that the walrus in the Lewis Carroll poem was a hero of sorts. Turned out he was the greedy villain (at least this is how Lennon eventually interpreted it). Regardless, John Lennon’s political belief system was beginning to play out publicly with “I Am the Walrus”. This belief system would become more and more apparent over the succeeding 5 years (into his solo career). As is the case today, the late 60s were polarizing times. 

John Lennon emptied the closet of his mind with “I Am the Walrus”. This, I believe, is the secret to a quality artist’s success; that they don’t hold back anything. That nothing is reserved in the mental archives for future use when they are creating. This kind of approach to his art cleared Lennon’s mind for new ideas. If you share that no-holds-barred art with the rest of world, as John Lennon did, you will never know all the positive ramifications. Case in point: John Lennon was not there to witness two kids sitting on a staircase, bewildered by images of elementary penguins singing Hare Krishna, and Semolina Pilchard climbing up the Eifel Tower, and the smiles of pigs in a sty, and egg men, and….yellow matter custard dripping from a dead dog’s eye. If he was, he may have easily concluded that at that moment he was significantly broadening the horizons for at least one of them.  

Magical Mystery Tour was a fun ride this week.  It reconnected me with my generational leanings. For those of my generation I recommend it. For those not of my generation, I also recommend it, if only to see us Boomers a bit more clearly through that looking glass.  If you don’t have the time or inclination however (or Peter’s magical contraption, which sorta makes him the ‘sixth magician’), a quick listen to “I Am the Walrus” will certainly do the trick.

- Pete

Fab Foundations # 23: “The Poster Child of Yearbook Quotes”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “In My Life”

Album: Rubber Soul

Release Date: December 1965

My wife’s 1977 Woburn High School Yearbook personal quote reads:

“There are places I’ll remember

All my life, though some have changed

Some forever not for better

Some have gone, and some remain

All these places have their moments

With lovers and friends, I still can recall

Some are dead, and some are living

In my life, I’ve loved them all”

Nancy’s thoughtful excerpt from the Lennon/McCartney song “In My Life” (lightyears better than my ambiguous yearbook quote “ Ya, Jerry”) is not only perfectly emblematic of the emotions that most of us have at that important stage in life, it also arguably pegs the most succinct, precise, and famous lyrical statement of all time when it comes to songs about nostalgia. In fact, I believe this Beatles classic song of tenderness ended up hitting the ball so far out of the park, that it made it difficult if not impossible for others in the Rock genera to take a stab at the sentiment themselves. One song that comes to mind is Bob Seger’s “Like a Rock”; a nice tune, but not quite in the same league. Another is Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road”, but it’s not as focused. As for the other musicians I’ve covered in this blog series, I can’t recall if any of them even attempted (maybe Neil Young with “Don’t Be Denied”, but that song is on the fringe of nostalgia). My guess is that they all must have shrugged their shoulders and muttered something to the effect of “oh well, that topics been covered”.

So, how to explain the sentiment that John Lennon and the Beatles capture so amazingly with “In My Life” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YBcdt6DsLQA )? How to explain the sweet emotions that Nancy, me, and so many others experienced as we graduated from high school; the kind of emotions that allowed us to relate to that song so strongly.

Let me start by narrowing down the window a bit. I don’t relate this music or these lyrics to how someone feels prior to the age of, say 16.  Sure, later in life you can look back on your earliest memories with nostalgia, but not while you are living it.  In other words, when you are 10, you don’t look back at your 5-year-old world in a dreamy way (at least I didn’t). No, I’m thinking these reflective emotions really don’t kick in until you are about 17 or 18…when you are getting ready to move on from your life as a dependent and break off on your own.

What happens within that 2 year window that stirs nostalgia? Well, for many of us, it’s our first real taste of freedom. Case in point: Through grade school and beyond, my brother’s oldest daughter – my niece - was always 2 class grades ahead of my daugther. I’ll never forget when Joe told me during his daughter’s senior year that she was an infrequent house guest - her days and nights spent almost entirely with her fellow-graduating-class friends - and semi-jokingly suggested that I should start preparing for this as a Dad.

I’m glad Joe said this, but my preparation may not have been quite how he pictured it, because a big part of bracing myself was in reflecting on my own life at that time. I started having more flashbacks on all sorts of things, such as how the early-evening air felt on my face as I stepped out the back door with my mind set on night moves. I recalled more of the music I listened to, my sense of loyalty at the time, my lankiness, hanging out in the woods, and how my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I recalled the inside jokes among friends, the letter writing, the fireside gatherings, and the deep discussions. All of this helped me to find a parental balance of sorts toward my daughter (and later my son) when they reached that magic age. For sure, it was hard being on the Dad side of the coin, but those reflections made it easier.

Freedom can do amazing things to self-esteem. As an antithesis to this, I recall a colleague of mine who grew up behind the Iron Curtain. Despite being a bright guy, he was always very hesitant to make any big bold decisions. In other words, he was hesitant to stand out. My supervisor stated that this colleague had to first shake the mental shackles off before he could do this. Slowly, over a period of time, this mental liberation played out.  I couldn’t relate to my colleagues’ plight at all at the time. I needed to hear the sage wisdom of my supervisor to understand. I took my mental freedom for granted, as if everyone had it by nature and nothing could break it.

If you use freedom correctly, it can come with a whole suite of positive emotions, including trust, kindness, love, and, yes, nostalgia. Some people consider nostalgia a retreat from reality; a negative emotion. I’ve never felt that way. Nostalgia is a great emotion for developing strong memory, which in turn helps someone to be empathetic of others. It also gives you a solid historical perspective on things. Yes, we must live in the present, as I hear so often, but dipping your toe into your past on occasion can make the present feel more vibrant, more alive. 

With that said, I thought I’d spend the rest of this entry in a nostalgic state of mind. I’ll do this by tackling a memory for each of my biggest supporters in this blog endeavor, all of whom I send weekly email “heads up” reminders whenever I submit a new entry (~ 30 of you). Some memories are specific, and others general. This is by no means a comprehensive list of friends and family who I could do this for, but I have to keep it finite, and so I’ll stick with the weekly shout-out crowd. Also, these are not necessarily the best memories I have with each of you, just the first ones that came to mind. I’ll do this in bulleted form, without names associated and leave it to you to guess what memory relates to whom. I’ll try to keep as unrelated to time and place as possible. Some of these may be very easy to guess, but others not so (several of you don’t know anyone else, or perhaps you only know one or two, so I apologize for that). I randomly selected the order to throw everyone off.

Here goes:

• A quintessential excursion which included a walled city, fjords, and hundreds of pearl-white belugas bouncing across a scenic Seaway (with a capital S).
• A 4-hour drive with ‘the man in the long black coat’, making our way downstream on one of North America’s largest tributaries while singing along with the songs of our (mutual) favorite musician as if our lives depended on it.
• Edging our way on ski’s up to a pinnacle of the continental divide, where we would sit on a cliff edge, crack open beers, and toast the majestic natural beauty in front of us, as well as our brotherhood.
• Your world views in my younger life were huge in giving me a sense of the importance of history and geography (which ended up being my dual major in undergraduate studies). I recall from long ago your love of Native American Culture and the history of Mexico. It was all fascinating to listen to you talk about these subjects as a kid.
• Coffee and tea in the hometown of a Nobel prize winner, and the deep conversation that bounced from motorcycle accidents to transfigurations to the shores of the Red River
• A world-famous Tower (with a capital T), a slip under the chains, a backstairs climb, and a once in a lifetime question
• A memory of you looking up at me after clearly making a profound connection with the story I was reading to you, and me realizing at that moment there was someone very special here in my midst
• A sprint across an Emerald (with capital E) field to keep from being gorged by bulls. This a few weeks after us passing on the chance to do so in a more officially observed event
• A Western (with a capital W) snowshoe afternoon in drifts so deep at times, that we could hardly move, and with a dog who had to be rescued from the significant snowballs accumulating on her shaggy coat.
• A broken leg and a night of physical and mental resolve that showed yet again how deeply you care
• A wonderful evening dining together with our young families, which reaffirmed for me the role I had accepted when I became a Dad.
• In a ‘reality is stranger than fiction’ moment, I glanced to my left at the urinal next to me at a Bruins game, and lo and behold, who should I see! It led to a wonderful nite, the two of us sharing our friends (we each had a buddy with us) and our love for each other.
• A nervous greeting soon transitioned into a very relaxed atmosphere later that evening with the words “there he goes!”
• An introductory discussion about horse heads frozen like statues in a frigid northern river for an entire winter led to an immediate understanding that this was a guy I was going to like
• A harried tent sprint across a windy field (me in the car, you, my poor cohort running behind to keep up, tent between us) gave me solace in the wonders of such an easy going nature.
• Acceptance of my offbeat humor, a willingness to wake up early on weekend mornings to paint, an enthusiasm to listen to my comic book reading, and help on my newspaper routes made me realize long ago that I had a bond for life.
• Amazing strength in times of loss (particularly when in the spotlight) will always have me feeling blessed whenever I have the grace to connect. We are way overdue for an early morning discussion over strong coffee.
• Having defeated death on several occasions, your priorities in life are soul-deep-inspiring. Your leaning on me all those years ago for ideas on your record-buying spree was an honor I took very seriously.
• Hilarious childhood memories of swapping personas of musicians as we imitated them over your record player gave me an early sensibility for the power of music.
• An evening ventured into a hidden lock system in the downtown area of a capital city, and the deep conversation that ensued, led me to the belief that our friendship would be long lasting.
• Of all the concerts I have ever been to in my life, my all-time favorite was seeing the Who with you. The thought-provoking discussion on the ride home was not too shabby either. What could be better than to share an experience always treasured with someone you love who never has experienced it, and at a time when you know that person was ready for it. Needless to say, the Who did their job in this bargain too (which also contributed to the intensity of the moment, seeing as you never know when that opportunity will be lost).
• Speaking of the Who, a ride to the Big Apple to see Quadrophenia led to a classic moment when all conversation was ceased by your high decimal cranking of said album, reflecting your sense of the moment.
• In the relatively short time that we have been friends (actually ~ 10 years now, so the term ‘relative’ is a key one here), memories of outdoor activity (hiking, snowshoeing, etc.) already dominate all others in this blog appreciation. That’s a big-time kudos coming from a fellow outdoor enthusiast.
• Role reversal at my bachelor party, including cleaning off my ‘cake face’ and much later, tucking me in (yes, I have a vague memory of this), gave me a clearer sense on the power of adapting for the moment or even the times. 
• Your friendship with my wife has become my friendship too. Your tenderness with your sister is something to behold, and some of my favorite Christmas-time memories are at those special events of hers that you warmly invite us to every year. When I look up “giver” it’s your face in that dictionary entry.
• Like John & Yoko, your bond with your husband is truly a 2-as-1 observation for all of us who have the pleasure to witness. Love is Real, Real is Love. Grow Old Along with Me. All You Need is Love. Yup, you’ve got it! The memories collide, but most all include both of you.
• So many incredible times together, it’s hard to pick one.  For whatever reason, an all-nighter, early-morning sunrise on the shores of Lake Champlain come to mind.  Perhaps it speaks to the ‘all-times-all-places’ nature of our friendship.
• Learning to perform music together has been a unique joy. 
• The drive out to Tanglewood to see Neil Young all those years ago is etched in my mind, as are all the other musically-inspired moments you introduced me to (more than anyone else I know).
• You beat me at Stratego when I was 16 and you were 7.  Man, that was humbling. Believe me, this was a good thing! Your feedback during this Fab Foundations series has been second to none.

Now, time to queue up “In My Life”, put on the headphones and reread this entry.  Thanks everyone, for the blog support and the wonderful nostalgia.

- Pete

P.S. This entry is dedicated to my wife, whose high school yearbook quote inspired this entry and whose love for me helped round out the meaning of the rest of “In My Life” beyond her quote.

Fab Foundations # 22: “The Collaborate Principle”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “Yellow Submarine”

Album: Revolver

Release Date: August 1966

Like many of my fellow concert-loving Baby Boomers, I’ve attended hundreds of live music events in my lifetime. The ever-growing list (which is on temporary Covid hiatus) includes The Who (~ 15 times), Neil Young (~ 12 times), the Rolling Stones (~ 12 times), Jonathan Richman (~ 12 times), Bob Dylan (5 times), Van Morrison, Lou Reed, Leonard Cohen, REM (3), Joe Jackson (3), The Grateful Dead (~ 8 times), Elvis Costello, Rush, Pete Townshend (2), Roger Daltrey (3), John Entwistle (5), Charlie Watts, The Clash, Tom Petty (3), CSN (2), The Band, The Allman Brothers, The Pogues, Rat Dog, The Kinks, The Jerry Garcia Band, John Mellencamp, Elton John (2), Eric Clapton, 10,000 Maniacs, Midnight Oil, Roger Waters (2), World Party, Southside Johnny (4), Iris Dement, Richard Thompson, Ray Davies, Dave Davies, Arlo Guthrie, Richie Havens, The Stray Cats, Ronnie Wood, and a host of others.

With all this concert attendance, you would think I’d have seen my share of ex-Beatles shows. However, I can only lay claim to one of these events, which was the first incarnation of Ringo Starr with his All-Starr Band back in 1989. I’ve been shamefully remiss in catching a Paul McCartney concert and I need to correct this at some point. I was excited when George Harrison toured Japan in 1991, hoping he would extend it here in the USA, but alas that was not to be; big-stage events never being his want in life. As for John Lennon, well, no chance there (would he have toured his Double Fantasy LP along with other music he was finally creating again in 1980? We will never know. If so, I would have been there for sure).

The Ringo show was a fun ride more than anything. What else would you expect? Starr is a fun magnet, and it’s obvious his contemporaries know this. Who else could pull together musical talent as diverse as Rick Danko, Paul Shaffer, Todd Rundgren, Dr. John, and Joe Walsh?  I went with my brother, Fred, who did a great imitation of front-man Ringo for years after the fact (note to self: I must have Fred indulge me with that one again next time we hook up).

As mentioned before in this blog series, during the time when the Beatles were slowly breaking up in the late 60s, there would often be strife between George, John and Paul, but not Ringo. He was the short term remedy for his bandmates. Why? Because they all loved him. And so, it is my belief that Starr kept the band together singlehandedly near the end, if only by his sheer presence. And after the Beatles broke up, they all would collaborate with him, but rarely if ever without him (Starr’s album Ringo was the only post-Beatles solo album that all 4 members contributed to).

I liken Ringo Starr to Ronnie Wood in this regard. Wood has the same reputation in the Rolling Stones; another band with powerful personalities at play. This is interesting, because on at least several occasions, Ringo and Ronnie were added to the evening festivities of some of Rocks most historic events including The Last Waltz, and Paul McCartney’s 2018 tour (I know I’m forgetting at least one other big one). They also showed up together to play on Bob Dylan’s “Heart of Mine”, which I wrote about in my Master Blueprints series 2 years ago (#29). It seemed as if they were always there for the big backstage party, where they would loosen things up and generate fun. And so, heck, why not pull them up on stage for the closing numbers. 

What makes Ringo Starr so likeable to those around him? I chalk it up to the Collaborate Principle, which defines any characteristic that makes someone fit in well to a group effort. Ringo is a peace loving guy (which is actually his motto these days) who deflects praise, puts in the requisite effort, and makes people laugh in the process. These are all characteristics of the Collaborate Principle. One fun clip to witness Starr in action in this regard is the “invention of music” scene from the movie Caveman: ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tYBNoFcvcWI ). Yeah, that just about says it all.

With all that said about Ringo, I figured it was about high time in this blog series I focus on the Beatles penchant for fun. The only other band that rivals them in this way is the Who (specifically Keith Moon and Pete Townshend).  Both bands could step away from the serious stuff on occasion and don the jester hat. Both bands had a knack for composing fun music too. With the Who it was songs like “Pictures of Lily”, “Tattoo”, “Happy Jack”, “Squeeze Box”, and “Magic Bus”. In the case of the Beatles, it was songs like “Octopus’s Garden”, “You Know My Name (Look Up the Number)”, “Hey Bulldog”, “All Together Now”, “Birthday”, and of course “Yellow Submarine” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m2uTFF_3MaA  ).

The Beatles fun turned out to be our fun too. In the movie Help! we see the origins of The Monkees and Batman. In the Yellow Submarine animated film, we see the origins of Monty Python’s Flying Circus. I also came to recognize John Lennon’s sense of humor in several of my most quick-witted friends.  And much like the Beatles with their Christmas tapes, my friends and I made hilarious homemade tapes too (man, I wish I still had those).  And yes, Magical Mystery Tour was a bit out there, but I’d be a hypocrite to think I have not pulled the same shenanigans with my brother Joe. 

I listened a number of times to “Yellow Submarine” this week; a song which, along with the fun angle, has the added touch of appealing to children and the young at heart. This is done through fairytale imagination, and although Ringo did not write the song, he made it work with his dreamy vocals. There is a loose-mood feel from beginning to end, which, again, is the type of rarified atmosphere the Beatles were blessed with generating that made them special. The sound effects and bridge vocals (“Full speed ahead Mr. Parker, full speed ahead”. “Full speed ahead it is, Sergeant”. “Action Station, action station”. “Aye, aye, sir, fire”, “Captain, captain”) crack me up now as much as they did 40 years ago. I also love the line “Many more of them live next door” (“them” being friends).  How do you live next door to a submarine that is adrift in the deep green sea?  Only in a child’s imagination, that’s how.

With each replay of the song this week, I thought of my own Yellow-Submarine-like worlds when I was young.  I thought of the “Mountain” on the edge of the woods, where my brothers, my friends, and I would often go with crowbars, chisels and hammers to create our own Mesa Verde.  I thought of the swamp behind it, where we would hop from tufts of grass to tufts of grass… and where I felt as if we had passed into a hidden world that nobody else knew of. I thought of the dense vegetation in an area on the campus of Dean Junior College, where we could slash out caves in the thicket. I thought of the amazing “Green Beret” fort that we made in the loft of a friend’s garage. I thought of all the old barns we used to explore on properties where the family had no use for them (one time we had to hide when the owner unexpectedly came into the barn for a spell). And I thought of a “green submarine” that we were able to make out of a giant fallen spruce tree across the street from my home (the limbs kept the trunk off the ground just enough so that we could make tunnels in between them). 

As I grew older, that imagination became increasingly difficult to maintain. But on occasion I would be pleasantly surprised to find myself there again. Most often this happened at concerts (as I reflect now, this is likely a big reason why I’ve attended so many). The mind can go to wonderful places at live music shows which has proven to be much more difficult to pull off otherwise (although I must say, on a drive earlier this week, with Revolver blaring out of the speakers, I came awfully close).

Ringo Starr and his All-Starr Band performed “Yellow Submarine” as the 3^rd song on their setlist during that joyous Great Woods show in 1989. And as they played, Ringo did his goofy Ringo routine as front man. Fred and I laughed. Yes, we were laughing at him to a degree. But down deeper, we were laughing more with him. Ringo Starr was sprinkling imagination on us that night.  He was taking us on an adventure. He was collaborating with us. All we had to do was listen, and the childhood magic flowed from there.

- Pete