Fab Foundations # 21: “A Well-Covered Ditty”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “Yesterday”

Album: Help!

Release Date: August 1965

I’m sure everyone reading this blog (thankyou by the way) has come up with new twists to their daily routines these past few Covid months, including my Dad, who has taken on jigsaw puzzles, and my brother who is upgrading his newly purchased cottage in Connecticut. A novel routine here at home during this stretch has been Sunday night as movie night. Nancy and I alternate weeks choosing a movie, I search for it on Redbox or some other online rental outlet, and away we go. 

Movie watching is not something my wife and I do a lot of. Exhibit A: We average about one movie a year at the theatre, which is relatively reflective of our low-end movie watching at home. You could chalk this up some to procrastination, seeing as, for the longest time, neither of us put any effort into updating our DVD player with HDMI cable (for flat screen), or into searching out those aforementioned online options (Redbox was a nice recent discovery because they don’t force you to commit to monthly charges…. just sign up and pay per view). 

The tipping point for putting movie watching on the faster track during this freaky pandemic has been not having our favorite pastime to turn to for the time being (hopefully); that being live music events. This void helps to explain our choice of movies these past Sunday evenings, many of which have been music documentaries. These glorified music videos include I’m Not There (a fascinating Bob Dylan biopic where 6 different actors play the part of 6 Dylan personas), Twenty Feet from Stardom (about all those great female backup singers who tour with some of the most famous bands of our times), Once Were Brothers (Robbie Robertson’s recent take on the triumphs and tragedies of his band, The Band), and most recently The Quiet One (Bill Wyman’s museum-esque archive-to-life documentary about his life with the Rolling Stones). All of these films are recommended for you music lovers out there.

Another music-centric movie we watched recently was Yesterday, a fictional account of what it would have been like if you were the only person in the world who had ever heard of the Beatles and their music. It’s a pretty clever film, but not beyond the reaches of our own imaginations in this regard (at least mine). Here is my attempt at summarizing the plot:  

Soon after a cosmic event, a struggling musician plays “Yesterday” to a group of friends on his guitar (very well I must say). He is taken aback when they tell him it’s magnificent, because in the same breath, they ask him how he came up with such a beautiful song. He replies something to the effect of ‘yeah, well Paul McCartney was quite gifted, don’t you think?’, whereby they ask who that is. This struggling musician thinks they are joking. Later that night he goes on Google and can’t find anything on “Beatles”.  Beetle bugs show up, as does the car of a similar name, but nothing on the most famous band of all time. The movie takes off from there, whereby the main character rolls out one Beatles song after another to his audience (without revealing the source). He soon becomes famous. The inevitable guilt settles in tough, which ultimately plays itself out.

One scene in the film kinda took my breath away near the end, but I’m not going to say anything more than that, other than that I recommend Yesterday, if only for all the great music you get to hear and reflect on.

It’s been uniquely pleasing to be on this recent roll with movies (albeit the primarily music-related ones I’ve discussed, which are close to the heart by default) because I’m not easily pleased when it comes to this media. Some people are overly critical of music. With others it can be food or wine or… people. With me, its movies. Typically, the film has to be one of those Siskel and Ebert ‘two thumbs way up’ reviews for me to even give it a fighting chance.

But there was a period in my life when I risked it with movies…. ‘made for TV movies’, that is.  That period was the mid to late 70s, before I made a full break from the couch and embraced night life. Case in point, I watched all of the Roots (1977) and Holocaust (1978) miniseries’ when they first came out, which, I must say, was a commitment. Being a young teenager, those 2 miniseries were very impressionable on me.

So too were the random late night movies I watched during that period of my life. One of those made-for-TV movies that I vividly recall was The Morning After, which came out in 1974 and starred Dick Van Dyke. Van Dyke plays the role of a family man whose life spins out of control because of his alcoholism. I’ve not seen the movie in the 46 years since then, which speaks to its enduring effect on me. As was the case with Roots and Holocaust, what was powerful about this film was that there was no silver lining. No happy ending. It was stark and truthful, and well-acted. The Beatles “Yesterday” is played in the background during several poignant moments in the film. The music drives home the plight of the protagonist just about as good as the acting of Dick Van Dyke himself (who later admitted that his acting was not far from the reality of his life at the time).

To this day, I think of The Morning After when I hear “Yesterday” (Side note: Is that sentence a mind-expansion oxymoron or what? I only picked up on this when I reread it). Even now, after the far more recent movie release I just reviewed (Yesterday -which used the song-name for its title for goodness sakes!). I believe the big reason for this was that I was just getting into the Beatles around that time, which was spurred by my parents purchasing the “Red Album”, on which “Yesterday” was discovered on side 2 by this rapidly-evolving Rock and Roll fan.

It all fit together. The song hit me hard off the disk first, and immediately after, the movie soundtrack gave it even more substance and context. It was a one-two punch. This was all at a time when my young developing mind was just then finding itself ready for the real world. In hindsight, the movie and song prepared me to take a deep dive into those 2 historically-tragic miniseries soon thereafter; Roots and Holocaust. In hindsight, The Morning After the movie and “Yesterday” the song were also preparing me for so much else.

“Yesterday” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NrgmdOz227I) is one of the most covered songs of all time. Why?  Because it’s an amazingly succinct song-statement that hits at the core of our broken humanity. As stated earlier, it was not long after that late-nite, movie-watching stretch of mine that I would be alternatively venturing out into the night world. This was the real high school experience in the 70s, and although I would get to be a part of so many truly wonderful things in those exploits, I would also begin to witness some of what is the dark underbelly of life; the occasional broken family, and the effect that broken environment could have on a few peripheral friends of mine. As the years have rolled on, I have come to the realization of just how hard that weight could be for those old friends to surmount. Yesterday seemed always a bit out of reach for them.

Earlier today, as I zeroed in on talking points for this entry, I found myself singing aloud the lyrics to “Yesterday” as I drove alone in my car; no radio, no music at all. While I did this, I thought ‘hmmm… not bad’ (my vocals).  It all just sort of rolled out as easy as pie and sounded pretty melodic to these ears in the process (if I do say so myself). I’m thinking now though (as I write) that it is simply one of those rare tunes that comes naturally to the singer, be they professional or otherwise. In other words, I don’t think I’m alone here (as evidenced by how much this song has been covered). I believe that “Yesterday” is a song all of of us can relate to, and when you can relate to a song that strongly, you can sing it.

Try it sometime (particularly if you have never done so). You might be surprised at how good your vocals sound to your own ears, and how easy it is to nail it. You may or may not be surprised at the sentiments that well up inside as you do so.

- Pete

Fab Foundations # 20: “The Grace in Passivity”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “Two of Us”

Album: Let It Be

Release Date: May 1970

Early in my career with the US Geological Survey (~ 30 years ago), office management was approached by the Cape Cod Commission – the principle environmental regulatory agency on Cape Cod Massachusetts, and a familiar cooperator at the time - to see if the USGS could develop a way to map the Cape for potential public groundwater-supply-well locations for drinking water. In turn, office management approached me because I had the digital-mapping (GIS) experience to lead such an effort. Over the next 3 years I worked on the project part time and devised a screening overlay process in GIS to essentially mask areas - based on factors such as landcover, hazardous waste, and saltwater intrusion zones - with a ranking scheme from least favorable to most. Quarterly meetings with the cooperator were always gratifying as I could sense they were pleased with developments.

About halfway thru the project, a hydrologist was hired to assist me. With an education more suitable for surface-water studies, her groundwater-hydrology knowledge was limited, but fine enough for the general understanding of groundwater movement that was needed to round out the project objectives (my formal education did not include hydrology). We collaborated well together. My primary focus was to teach her aspects of what I was doing. This was necessary since 1) GIS consisted of a vast majority of the project workload and 2) I was multitasking on other projects, which made it a struggle to deal with all the short-term deadlines related to data development on my own. What was most ideal about the arrangement, however, was that the new hire (who was rapidly becoming a friend) showed a great aptitude for GIS and appeared to enjoy learning it.

When it came time to write the report, my project partner took the initiative. I was happy for this development, because frankly, technical writing was not my forte (I still struggle with it, to this day). However, because the core of the report would have to describe what I had dreamed and schemed up over the course of those 3 years, my colleague needed my input. I gave it to her in my own unique writing style. She then edited and weaved my feedback into her narrative. 

One day near the end of the project, the associate director called me into his office. He had the draft manuscript in his hand, which he was reviewing. He asked me why I was not listed as the lead author. After chewing on his question for a moment (he surprised me with it) I told him that my partner wrote the bulk of the report, and that I was fine with the situation. He then said something to the effect of: “But you came up with the key ideas, you wrote the programs, you gave most of the presentations, and you designed the final map plate. You are the visionary. You deserve to be lead author.”  He then asked me to contemplate this some.

I did contemplate, but in the end, never acted on it (other than asking my co-author to remove text from the report’s announcement letter that referred to her as “principal author”, which probably touched a nerve, seeing as we never collaborated again in the 2 years that she remained in the office). In the grand scheme of things, I was simply not compelled enough to make a big deal of the matter. Besides, the authorship status was a nice way for my colleague to launch her career. I already had a boatload of momentum in this regard. It was a wrap in my mind, and I was already on to the next best thing by the time the report was published.

I had reflected on that memory very little in the past 25 years. But as I struggled to think of a way to broach my talking points this week regarding the Lennon/McCartney songwriting team, it all came flooding back. 

What made “Lennon/McCartney” work so well? I don’t believe it could have been better if they authored songs individually, nor do I think it would have been better if the songwriting credit read “McCartney/Lennon”. Why?  Because you can’t get much better than what the Beatles did in the decade they worked together. That’s the easy answer. For the remainder of this entry I’ll take on this premise in more detail in order to make things harder on myself (hey, that’s what this blog site is all about).

Partnerships. Collaborations. Success. Credit. Recognition. These are abstractions all of us can relate to, which is why so many of my generation (and other generations) can relate to the Beatles. Their story covers the gambit with these terms. And at the heart of it all is the “Lennon/McCartney” partnership.

The mystery of a songwriting partnership is so much deeper than songs that have an individual credit. You find yourself asking questions like; who came up with the seed of the idea? The tempo? The best lyrical lines? The chords? How did the song evolve as it bounced between the songwriters? Who was the impetus when it all gelled? Some of this is easy to decode with the Beatles, seeing as a vast majority of the songs that John Lennon sings originated with him. Same for Paul McCartney. From there, it gets a bit more interesting in terms of who contributed what to any given song, but generally in the case of “Lennon/McCartney”, the singer is the “principal author”. 

However, this factoid is not what I’m really driving at in this entry. It’s been covered ad-nauseam (one of the reasons it took me so long to get to the Beatles on this blog site was that I was intimidated by how much has already been written about them). I’m seeking more of the “why” here than the “how”, which may help to explain how I have approached collaborations in my own life story, and maybe that of others too.

Every endeavor with a partner will find one person being more passive, and the other being more aggressive (however lurid or subtle that aggression may be). The roles may switch over time, or maybe even oscillate back and forth regularly, but there will always be that element at play. I don’t care if it’s a songwriting team, a scientific team, or a marriage. That’s just the way it is.

On the surface, the two roles may not appear to be of equal importance. After all, does not the aggressive role dictate the results in any particular endeavor? Ahh, but there is much more to the role of passivity than meets the eye. It’s like the Id (primitive, instinctual) and the Super-Ego (moral conscience) sides of our persona. These can actually be amazingly complimentary. To take on the role of one or the other at any given time, depending on the circumstances, is what makes us dynamic.

The credit that is “Lennon/McCartney” started that way because John Lennon formed the Beatles, making him the de facto leader. But through the years, he would see that leadership usurped by Paul McCartney for large chunks of time. “Yesterday”, “Let It Be”, “Hey Jude”, “The Long and Winding Road” …. these are all McCartney tunes. I for one do not think that Beatle Paul could have written such enduring iconic music without taking on that aggressive leadership mantle as he composed.

But what was equally as important was what John Lennon did during these prolific-Paul periods. Lennon slipped out of his aggressive, dominant persona in the band and became relatively passive. Here lies the secret to a thriving relationship: When you knowingly or unknowingly realize when it’s time to pass that baton for a spell. If there is any insight that I have gained thus far in my Fab Foundations exploits this year, this Lennon-acceptance-of-role-reversal is it. His willingness to step out of his Id and Paul McCartney’s ability to step into his (and vice versa) is the ‘grace’ factor in what separated the Beatles from so many other bands.

At the same time, Paul McCartney was willing to retain second authorship throughout the entirety of the Beatles as a working band (even on those 4 aforementioned masterful songs that John Lennon had very little involvement in), which was beautifully passive as well. Throughout his career, McCartney has always come across to me as a leader, to the degree that it has been difficult for me to understand how he functioned in an equal-member band environment. I suppose the same thing could be said about Lennon. But McCartney took it a step further than Lennon, because he was accepting of that second author position. Perhaps this was why it was so hard for Paul McCartney when the Beatles broke up. John Lennon brought a passive quality out in him that otherwise was buried deep inside. “How else can I tap that” is an internal voice he must have feared at some level.

Many writers (including myself) have focused on the melding of musical styles and attitudes that made the “Lennon/McCartney” partnership so successful, and rightfully so. But this Id/Super-Ego dynamic between the two, this back and forth, aggressive/passive, front-seat/backseat role reversal, has not been covered nearly enough.

Paul McCartney’s (or should I say “Lennon/McCartney’s”) “Two of Us” encapsulates this partnership ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cLQox8e9688 ).  When this song was written near the end of the Beatles story, McCartney was trying to rekindle an amazing dynamic, or at least reveal the magic behind it.  We would all be so fortunate to be in such a position; to be involved in a wonderfully successful partnership venture, knowing the times when it is appropriate for our role to be an aggressive one, but more importantly, to know when it is not.

- Pete

Fab Foundations # 19: “Mom’s the Word Redux”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “Your Mother Should Know”
Album: Magical Mystery Tour
Release Date: November 1967

Note: The bulk of this entry was written for my very first blog series way back in 2008-09. I titled that series “Gem Music Video of the Week” (GMVW) and the entry I refer to here was # 70, which was written for Mother’s Day, 2009 (all of the GMVW entries can be found on this blog site if you scroll through the subsequent series’ to the beginning). I’ve made a handful of minor modifications to that entry here in order to bring that 11-year-old writeup up-to-date (including several of the music-video links, which had broken). I’ve also tried to make a few of the talking points clearer. But all in all, I’ve mostly tried to keep the spirit of that entry alive by minimizing changes. And so, without further ado:

Remember those old Dean Martin roasts?  A celebrity would spend a night on the butt end of a relentless barrage of jokes from fellow entertainers. The abuse was piled on at an almost ruthless pace.  Eventually Ruth Buzzi herself, acting as a jilted lover, would come out and repeatedly bash the poor sap over the head with her pocketbook. The humiliation was complete. Mission accomplished. 

When a retirement party was held in my Mom’s honor a number of years ago, I knew there was going to be plenty of well-deserved praise from others, so when I prepared my speech, I figured I would try to follow in the footsteps of Dean Martin and his merry pranksters by sprinkling in a bit of roast material at Mom’s expense. Part of this was self-preservation; me not wanting to get too emotional by simply focusing on Mom’s countless positive attributes. I pondered and pondered some more about what to say and came up with nothing, nada, zip. In the end, I broke up parts of my praise-centric speech of Mom by roasting myself. It worked. I got through it.

Roasting my Mom? How could I even contemplate this as possible?  I mean, shouldn’t I have assumed that our loving mothers are virtually impossible to roast? You may pull it off for just about anyone else in your life, but not your mother! Too many memories of self-sacrifice and caring; of staying with you deep into the night when you were sick; of attending all your big events; of being there for EVERYTHING. In short, too much love to give you any chance of coming up with so much as a morsel of roast-able material.

Here we are on the cusp of another Mother’s Day. Time once again to recognize our mothers and all they have done (and continue to do) for us. This year the big event falls on May 10, which happens to be the 50^th Anniversary of the day Bobby Orr flew through the air and the Big Bad Bruins won the Stanley Cup for the first time in 29 years. On that day a “Happy Mother’s Day, Mrs. Orr!” sign was swaying in the Boston Garden rafters. It gave all of us young Bruins fans a stronger sense of the communal importance of this special occasion. Side note: When I originally did this writeup in 2009, Mother’s Day also fell on May 10. I had to modify the previous few sentences to bring them up to date, but it was pretty darn cool when I came to the realization that I had a triumvirate of May 10 Mothers Days (1970, 2009, 2020), allowing me to keep the gist of those sentences intact.

Since this is a music-driven forum, I must include a few thoughts on my Mom’s musical influences on my life. There was Mom singing “Rise and Shine” (“and ring out the glory, glory”), which woke us up more often than I care to remember. These and other memories of Mom singing in the house reflected the spirit by which she raised her family, allowing us to pass that spirit on to our children. There was Mom’s purchase of the Beatles “Red Album” when I was not quite yet a teen, which I would play over and over, and in the process get early doses of my future rock-music sensibilities. There was Mom and her 10 siblings singing around a piano every year at the family Christmas Parties.

I could go on and on, but this week (or rather, 11 years ago this week), I’m getting help, with reflections of Mom and her musical influences from my siblings, Jen, Pat, Fred, Amy and Joe (in that order). Joe brings up the rear, because his input includes links to a number of memorable songs, which will easily take you somewhere else. I had planned on including a few add-on links myself, but Joe covers this and then some.  My only link is this week’s song inspiration, which is none other than the Beatles performing “Your Mother Should Know” ( https://vimeo.com/238252381 ) from The Magical Mystery Tour movie (which I plan to review in a few weeks). I’ve sent this tune to Mom every year since 2009 (a few times at her bequest), which made it one of the easiest song choices I’ve ever made for a blog entry.

Before passing the baton to Jen, a Happy Mother’s Day wish to all you great Mom’s out there. I’ve seen many of you in action over the years and have always been impressed with how you do what you do. This mental list of course includes my wife, Nancy, who amazes me with her motherly ways…. but that’s a promotion for our son and daughter, Peter and Charlotte, to make the case for this weekend (they have already started). This mental list also includes the Mothers who have passed on from us, whose sons and daughters are included in the email-reminder blasts I send out weekly. Those Moms include Anastasia Smith, Geraldine Steeves, Ellen Smith, Bonnie Gilligan, Louis Hedtler, Sandra McDermott, Insook Choi, and just this past year, Nineen Mello, Millie Shea, and Sylvia Rose Carney. (I’m sorry for anyone I may have missed).

And lest I not forget Julia Lennon, Mary McCartney, Louise Harrison and Elsie Starkey, who gave us the Fab Four!

My siblings take it over from here:

-----------------------------

Jen:

In my mind, music and domestic, family-life go hand in hand. Dale grew up similarly, so it's no surprise that our household together now, more often than not, has somebody's music playing, especially during our down/leisure time.

In the early years, I recall the music of the crooners and swooners that young couples of Mum and Dad's generation enjoyed: Andy Williams, Perry Como, Tony Bennett. I associate their timeless songs with a fun, comfortable and secure childhood. And there was the music of so many Broadway shows and musicals that I now have such a fondness of, and even have on my playlist. Songs from Camelot, Sound of Music and Jesus Christ Superstar, to name a few.

As Queen of our household while we were growing up, Mum kindled a sort of "freedom of choice" with our music preferences and tastes. And among the six of us, we each developed and cultivated a unique foundation of faves and interests. As a teen, I discovered the magical power of idols that were David Cassidy, Bobby Sherman and Olivia Newton John. And interestingly enough, I played them without complaint from anyone! My tastes evolved through the pop and rock hits from my adolescent and teen years and spread into mostly 70's rock.

Mum sang along to songs on the car radio, often making up entertaining lyrics as she went, if she didn't know the words. Or even if she did. And remember her car-exercises to "The Entertainer"?

Finally, my favorite memory of Mum-and-Music is a recollection I have of a hospital visit to Boston with her one day, when I was sick with my kidney problems. We had many day-trips into town together, to Floating Hospital. I recall being on a sidewalk with her that was along the wall of a building which had show stuff painted on it, and in big letters, "There's No Business like Show Business". Mum took my hand, and danced/strutted up the sidewalk with me, singing the quote to tune. I wish I had a video of it.

Happy Mother's Day, Mum! Love you!

xo JEN

--------------------------------

Pat:

Memories of Mom and music put a smile on my face.  My first Mom music memory is heading out to the grocery shop with Mom in the VW wagon before I was going to school.  Some of the tunes on the air waves those early '70's days were Neil Diamond, lingering Beatles, random hits like "Brand New Key", K-Tel hits, and too many more to recall.

Other memories are snickering with Amy/Jen when Mom would sing the lyrics to some songs with her own rendition - habits which carried over to me as my friends would return the favor of abuse. Also, when Mom disagreed with a certain Marvin Gay song titled "xxxual Healing".

As with many things for which to thank Mom, I thank her for adapting my love of music!

--------------------------------------

Fred:

Watching Mom sing in the St Mary’s choir (I can’t say I heard her, but assumed she was the best voice) gave me the notion that maybe I, too, had some lyrical talent. It wasn’t until I saw our cousins, the Gilligan’s perform ‘Guantanamera’ that I abandoned hope of pursuing that hobby. But she did provide frequent encouragement to listen to music in our living room on the very large music system we had.  I think it was made by Phillips; with a turntable and receiver, and two built in speakers which I thought was the coolest piece of furniture any home could have.  The ‘Bossa Nova’ was a Mom-favorite, but the two early albums that she loved to listen to, and that I most align with Mom were Neil Diamond and Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. 

When I hear “Sweet Caroline” played at Red Sox games, Mom comes to mind, and to think she was first in all of Boston to like that tune.  As for SPLHCB, I think Dad bought that album for Mom for the main purpose of listening to “When I’m 64”.  I never thought they (we) would ever get there…….

----------------------------

Amy:

Where to begin?  I can't say that I have a memory from my childhood that isn't in some way attached to a song. When it came to listen to Mum sing in the car or in the kitchen, I became a sponge, learning every lyric and tune. I loved when Dad would chime in to a classic too, and together they'd try to remember all the words. They still do this. Mom introduced me to the magic of the Musical at a very young age: Camelot, The Sound of Music, Jesus Christ Superstar, West Side Story, South Pacific, Annie. Her favorite music became my own. I was swept up with the fantasy world of Musical Theatre, so much so, that it became my major in College. Without the carefree confidence that Mum instilled in me, I would never have been able to share my voice with anyone but myself.  The two go hand in hand. Music has always been a natural part of my life. I can't cook, paint or exercise without music.  I just downloaded "Charlie on the MTA" on my ipod.  That's you Mum.

I remember one night very clearly.  Mum encouraged me to go tryout for the part of Liesl in the St. Mary's Production of The Sound of Music.  I was apprehensive, as it was the second night of auditions; I had already missed the first night. I got the part. The experience stays with me, to this day. 

I'll end with this (which you also taught me)

M are for the million things she gave me

O means only that she's growing old

T are for the tears she shed to save me

H is for her heart as pure as gold

E are for her eyes of love light shining

R means right, and right she'll always be

Put them altogether they spell Mother. 

The world that means the world to me.

-------------------------

Joe:

Some great memories of M&M (Mom & Music) growing up....below are only a few of the many memories that play back in my head when I hear the song.....

Hanging out in the kitchen on Park Road with Mom and cousin Emmet eating breakfast before we headed out to chip away at the ‘mountain’, hit home runs at Dean into the tennis courts, throw rocks at Thompson Press, head to Friendly's for double fribbles, or play monopoly 1000 times, we sat at the counter eating eggs on toast and this song would be playing -

“Forever in Blue Jeans” - Neil Diamond

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QQLWF_ItzYs

I played this song so many times that Jen couldn't take it any more...or maybe it was eating the popcorn too loud.  Either way, Mom always encouraged us to be ourselves and we had a childhood that most kids would be envious of.  This song reminds me of those great childhood days -

“Only the Good Die Young” - Billy Joel

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERWREcPIoPA

As the day came to a close and the early evening started up in Lee, NH, at the campground overlooking the lake, we would be getting ready to head into the woods to find some wood for the campfire that night.  It didn't matter how big the tree was, it was coming down.  As Mom got the camp site ready for the evening, this would be playing on the radio -

Creedence Clearwater Revival – “Fortunate Son”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ec0XKhAHR5I

When Aunt Ginger passed away, this is the song that carried her thru it all. I think about Mom every time I hear it.

“Wind Beneath My Wings” - Bette Midler (from Movie -Beaches)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0iAzMRKFX3c

Heading down the Cape in the Volkswagen bus early in the morning on our way to Falmouth, Mom would be sitting in the front seat turning up the music because it was "all day Beatles music" on the radio.  As we hit the entrance to 495 heading south early in the AM, this would be on the radio -

The Beatles – “Here Comes the Sun”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KQetemT1sWc

Happy Mother’s Day Momzo. – Joe

------------------

Yes, Joe, I second that emotion.
Happy Mother’s Day, Momzo. We Love You, Pete

Fab Foundations # 18: “Splendid Isolation”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

Song: “Across the Universe”
Album: Let It Be
Release Date: May 1970

"[The words] were purely inspirational and were given to me as boom! I don't own it you know; it came through like that.” – John Lennon in a 1971 interview, discussing the making of “Across the Universe” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=90M60PzmxEE ).

How much creativity, if any, can we really lay claim to? This is a question I’ve been asking myself recently being that I am of the ever-growing belief that our job in the inspiration process is to put ourselves in position to unleash those creative juices and then, miraculously - as John Lennon stated in the quote above - it all comes through you. Brian Wilson, Bob Dylan, and many other musicians/artists/writers have made similar claims.

Putting ourselves in position for creativity is what we can take credit for however, which takes knowledge, skill, experience, and a handful of positive character traits (trustworthiness, honesty, etc.) developed over time. There also needs to be a short-term convergence of both effort and what I like to refer to as “splendid isolation”, whereby you get lost in the moment and somehow are able to rediscover a sense of innocence, or rather, of who you really are. Prayer is a form of “splendid isolation”. So is meditation. Even just zoning out (my second grade teacher, Sister Margaret Ester called it “Cloud Nine”, and often accused me of spending her lectures there). If you can get these stars aligned, you’re ready to let it flow. My increasing understanding is that the more it plays out this way, the more magnificent the end product is going to be.

I’m sitting in my fireplace room right now trying to put myself in position to make creativity happen for this blog entry. I’ve had an entire day of isolation. Heck, it’s actually been more like a month and a half of isolation - living in this Covid-19 world - which has been the case for most of us. But isolation and splendid isolation are not always synchronized. For example, isolation can be tied to loneliness or anxiety, which are moods that do not lack communally in this day and age. But this type of downer isolation can also have splendid side effects on occasion. As I write this evening, I feel more connected with this more positive side-effect of isolation.

Ok, so, I’ve got that going for me.

Anyhow, back to my present setting. The house is very quiet right now. All 3 of us who are in Covid-19 isolation together - my wife Nancy, my daughter Charlotte, and I - are busy on our laptops.  I’m leaning back on a recliner in the corner of the room, which is where I’ve been blogging these days. As I mull over my talking points for this entry, I’m looking directly out the picture window. The last vestiges of dusky daylight allow for the multitudes of tall, silhouetted trees in the back yard to completely dominate my view of the outside world. I stop myself from writing for a few minutes to take it in.

In the 16 years that we have lived here on this wonderful 1½ acre plot in rural Pepperell, Massachusetts, we have done a pretty good job of letting nature take its course (as with prior-mentioned creativity, I do not consider myself the owner of the property; only a steward). We typically intervene only when attempting to replace invasive plants with native ones. The canopy around us is large enough to support hawk and owl nests. Tree frogs and woodpeckers - including the sizable Pileated Woodpecker of Woody Woodpecker renown - are common in the stands above us too. At ground level, we’ve seen fisher, deer, bear, and other significant four legged creatures wander through the yard. We’ve also been graced by an endangered Blanding’s Turtle, who lays her eggs out back every other year. We’ve heard rare whippoorwill too. Across the street the wetland is alive with spring peepers, which is reason enough for a routine visit by a very large black racer (which I once mistook for a broken tree branch).

Lyrics to “Across the Universe” begin to hit me:

“Words are flowing out

Like endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass
They slip away across the universe”

The room lighting is on low; just low enough so that I do not feel like I’m completely in the dark (I suppose this is a subliminal gesture in attempting to unleash those creative juices). To my right is the well-used fireplace, which is dutifully flickering with flame. To my left is most of the room; at the far edge of which are 3 wide steps leading up into the common-space kitchen, which is also dimly lit. With darkness pretty much having settled in outside now, much of the illumination around me is currently emanating from my computer screen.

“Images of broken light
Which dance before me like a million eyes
They call me on and on across the universe”

I glance around the room. My laptop backpack rests on the couch in front of me. Strange that it’s been sitting there for over a month. Usually that personal attaché case is pretty active, making its way to and from work with me on a daily basis. Now that I think about it, that backpack has been my work and personal travel partner for decades now, having ‘seen’ countless trunks, campgrounds, airports, meeting rooms, conferences, and hotel rooms, from Juneau AK, to Whitehorse YT, to Edmonton AB, to Denver CO, to Albuquerque NM, to Vancouver BC, to Baltimore MD, to Charleston SC, to Quebec City QC, to Ottawa ON, to San Diego CA, to New Orleans LA, to International Falls, MN, to Winnipeg MB, to St. Johns NL, to Boise ID, to Salt Lake City UT, to Panama City, Panama, to San Jose, Costa Rica, and countless places in-between. Oh, the tales it could tell. It’s a quality product, incredibly looking pretty much like it did the day I purchased it; and made in the good-ole’ USA no less. For the time being, however, it just sits here on the couch, in similar fashion to the Grandfather Clock that is ticking away in the living room (which also has plenty of tales to tell).

Next to the laptop is a pile of “Wildlife Fact File” folder books. It had been many years since any of us in the family had thought of these, but my son Peter was home recently admiring them in the basement, and so I brought a handful up so Charlotte could reflect on them too. There are about 10 folder books with around 150 “fact cards” filed away in each of them. And each book has its own theme, be it Mammals, Birds, Reptiles, Fish, or other major animal orders. When the kids were young in the early oughts’ we would get a shipment of 10 cards bimonthly. Charlotte and Peter loved opening up those packets (so did I). At times we would spread the cards out all over the floors of the house. It’s those memories Peter was tapping into a few weeks back.

Beside me on the floor is an amazing wooden card box personalized for me by my sister Amy, who designed it for my 50^th Birthday. The box contains an assortment of warm cards and notes from friends and family, presented to me on that special day. The most amazing thing about it though are all the images that Amy had collected of my past, which are pasted on every nook and cranny of both the inside and outside of the box (including some Beatles stuff). The insight that Amy had in pulling all those wildly diverse linkages to my life continues to astound me 7 years later. How did she retain all that? (Love, that’s how). If a future descendent ever wants to get a synopsis of my life, well, other than this blog, they need look no further than that memory box.

“Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box
They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe”

The bookcase next to the picture window is stacked with field guides, animal encyclopedias and trail maps (along with a handful of musician biographies), which testifies to my family’s ‘getaway’ priorities (as well as Nancy and my concert-attendance leanings). Aside from all those nature and music booklets, there is one shelf that is reserved for plastic models of whales and other sea creatures, seeing as leviathans have been a love of mine ever since I was a toddler (which my family has bought into). On the upper corner of the bookcase is a different model all together: The Creature of the Black Lagoon, which is representative of the monster models my brothers and I would construct and paint when we were young teens. 

“Sounds of laughter, shades of life
Are ringing through my open ears
Inciting and inviting me”

Along the wall that is opposite the bookcase is a lovely globe of the Earth, which is nestled in a handsome stand. Nancy got this for me as a Christmas gift early in our dating years. It too looks like it did the day I unwrapped it. The political boundaries do a darn good job of dating this globe (for example, Yugoslavia is depicted as a single country, and Germany is depicted as two countries) which only adds to its allure. Next to the globe is a turntable which my Dad gave me recently after reading one of my blog entries that mentioned my own turntable having been stored in the attic (sans a cartridge). It’s emblematic of my Dad (and my Mom) to think of such things: Generosity is at the core of who they are. On the wall behind the globe and turntable are an assortment of older photos of Nancy’s and my extended families dating back to our great grandparents. Charlotte and Peter get their own photo montage on a stand along the back of the aforementioned couch.

“Pools of sorrow, waves of joy
Are drifting through my opened mind
Possessing and caressing me”

Over the fireplace mantle is one of Charlotte’s many natural-world paintings; this one a New England forest landscape, which suddenly reminds me of my temporarily-vacated office, adorned with a number of bird-prints that Charlotte painted for me over the years. There is also a painting in my office of the treehouse that was omnipresent in our backyard for 15 years, which I asked Charlotte to document in her wonderfully unique way (before my having to dismantle it due to safety reasons this past fall…the platform is still there though!). These paintings are all masterpieces to me.

“Limitless, undying love
Which shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on across the universe”

On the fireplace hearth to my right is the voluminous Beatles Anthology book, which I have turned to on occasion for a bit of research these past 4 months of Fab Foundations blogging. As I sit here, I’m reminded now of what’s at the heart of why I’m writing this entry.

The refrain in “Across the Universe” goes “Nothing’s gonna change my world”; that last word ‘world’ meaning ‘being’ (as in “Nothing’s gonna change my being”). This thought connects me with all those images of my own life that surround me and flood my mind as I sit here in splendid isolation. Indeed, my life inspirations have been pretty consistent from a very young age. I’m guessing this is the case for all of us.

“Across the Universe” is undoubtedly John Lennon’s most spiritual song (be it with the Beatles or solo). The repeated Sanskrit mantra in the lyrics, “Jai guru deva, om”, literally approximates in translation to “Victory to God divine” (Wiki). Spirituality comes across not only in the lyrics, but in the vocals too, which are soft and contrite. Of all the Beatles songs I’ve ever heard; this one sounds the least Beatlesy, which makes it uniquely lovely.

George Harrison would sing many spiritual songs with - and more prominently without - the Beatles. Arguably, he did this more than any top Rock act other than Bob Dylan and Pete Townshend. As for John Lennon compositions, “Across the Universe” is the only deeply spiritual song that I can point to (side note: the only spiritual song I can point to for Paul McCartney is “Let it Be”, and it appears that this was unintended… more on that in a near-future blog entry). In fact, it’s easier to find the opposite with Lennon, seeing as he would rail against religion early in his solo career - with songs like “Imagine” and particularly “God” (a strangely heartfelt song that has me pondering what he is really saying). He did this to the point where he would inadvertently end up discouraging George Harrison from collaborating more with him.

Bob Dylan would end up reflecting on John Lennon’s spirituality (or lack thereof) on the very last album-oriented song he ever composed (to date at least): “Roll on John” off of Tempest (which I wrote about in Master Blueprints # 39). If you had to hang your hat on one spiritual song, however, “Across the Universe” is not too shabby.

I sit back, think a moment, close my laptop, and call it a day.

- Pete

p.s. This entry is dedicated in memorium to my great friend Mac’s younger brother T.R. “Across the Universe” was played at T.R’s funeral and I think of him whenever I hear the song.

Fab Foundations # 17: “L’Angelo Misterioso”

(Personal reflections inspired by Beatles songs)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- Pete

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

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