Showing posts with label Beatles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beatles. Show all posts

Monday, November 27, 2017

Taking a Magical Mystery Tour



"Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" hit the music stores six months earlier, and it was still making headlines on this day in 1967 when "Magical Mystery Tour" was released.

But so were other songs the Beatles had written and recorded but had not yet released on an album — like "All You Need Is Love" and "Baby You're a Rich Man," which were released as the two sides of a single six weeks after the "Sgt. Pepper" album.

The Beatles were constantly experimenting with sounds and recording techniques. They rose to prominence with no real long–term expectations and therefore felt free to go wherever their interests took them. I saw an interview with Ringo Starr from around the time the Beatles made their first appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show, and he said he hoped the group would be successful enough that he could use his earnings to invest in a beauty shop in London. Neither he nor the other Beatles would have believed it if they had been told their recordings would still be influencing popular music half a century later.

Anyway, following the completion of "Sgt. Pepper," Paul McCartney had a brainstorm. He wanted to create an extemporaneous film about the Beatles and their music. "Ordinary" people (including the Beatles) would travel on a bus and have magical adventures.

The project yielded a 52–minute movie that was aired on the BBC the day after Christmas and was so savaged by the critics that it has been seldom seen since.

It also produced six new Beatles songs — not enough by themselves to make an entire album. Capitol Records rounded out the album by including five previously non–album singles.

As always, the music was good. In fact, for many observers, it was the music that salvaged the entire project. The film had no script and no real direction.

Still in the context of what had come before — and what was yet to come — "Magical Mystery Tour" was exactly what it seemed to be, a hodge–podge of songs consisting of a brief soundtrack and a group of songs that had been released as singles within the previous year.

As I say, though, the music was good. George Harrison was bursting with creativity that would reach full flower a few years later when he released his triple–album solo effort "All Things Must Pass." In 1967, though, he was still a member of the Beatles and getting a handful of spots on albums that were largely dominated by Lennon–McCartney compositions.

Nevertheless, Harrison contributed "Blue Jay Way" and shared credit with John Lennon, McCartney and Starr on the instrumental "Flying."

Yes, the music was good, but the album and film were disjointed. It wasn't surprising that both got mixed reviews.

It richly deserves its place in the Beatles discography. But it doesn't flow seamlessly in the Beatles' musical timeline.

Thursday, September 14, 2017

Not Much of a Plot, but 'Across the Universe' Made You Feel Good



"Here is a bold, beautiful, visually enchanting musical where we walk into the theater humming the songs."

Roger Ebert

I've been a Beatles fan as long as I can remember.

So I have to ask myself something: How did I possibly miss the premiere of "Across the Universe" on this day in 2007?

OK, today is actually the 10th anniversary of its debut at the Toronto International Film Festival. It started showing in the United States about a month later.

All the same, though, I do not remember hearing anything about it at the time — and that really is a shame.

And difficult for me to comprehend because "Across the Universe" actually is my favorite Beatles song. You'd think the movie's title would have left an impression on me.

Now, I have mentioned before that I am not a fan of movie musicals — but this is Beatles music. It isn't the Beatles singing — I have heard that it is quite costly to obtain the rights to use actual Beatles recordings in movies, which is why 2001's "I Am Sam" used cover versions of Beatles songs — and it may be why "Across the Universe" used covers, too, although it seems to me that it really worked better for the movie's plot — such as it was — to have the characters sing the songs.

I liked it better in "Across the Universe," though. "I Am Sam" was shot in sync with the original Beatles songs so even though the versions that were used were covers, they couldn't stray far from the pace of the originals. In "Across the Universe," there were no such constraints, and the musicians had more freedom in their interpretations.

Consequently, if you were a Beatles fan, you would recognize variations, both subtle and not so subtle, in the songs.

(One example that stood out for me was the rendition of "With a Little Help From My Friends," which was like a cross between the original version and Joe Cocker's — with a generous helping of the musicians' own spins. The music was very enjoyable — and occasionally surprising.

(Speaking of Cocker, he actually was in "Across the Universe," but he didn't sing "With a Little Help From My Friends." He sang "Come Together.")

I wasn't wowed by the story — it was dialogue loosely connected by the songs, and the names of the characters — Jude, Lucy, Max, Sadie, Prudence, Jojo, etc. — came directly from song titles or lyrics that Beatles fans were sure to recognize.

The power of "Across the Universe" was the merging of roughly three dozen Beatles songs with strong images — like the part where "Let It Be" was incorporated into juxtaposing scenes of two groups of mourners, one white and one black, burying young people. The black casualty came during a protest; the white casualty was the result of warfare.

It produced a stark contrast, to be sure.

Any Beatles imagery — direct or implied — evoked by the group's brilliant lyrics was brought to the screen.

Dana Fuchs, as Sexy Sadie, added a Janis Joplin touch to the story with her Pearl–like performances.

Evan Rachel Wood was the female lead as Lucy. She only recently turned 30 and almost certainly has many film roles ahead of her, but Wood, who performed Beatles songs admirably, has said the role of Lucy is her favorite. That isn't surprising, given that she has said that the music of the Beatles has played a significant role in her life.

I have been working as a journalism professor for several years now, and it never ceases to amaze me when I hear that people — who I know could not have been born yet when the Beatles broke up — say that the Beatles' music influenced them when they were growing up. Nearly all the Beatles songs ever recorded had been on record store shelves for years when those folks were born. The Beatles, of course, continued to record as solo performers, but they were not a contemporary band for recent generations.

Wood is one of those people. The fact that she and so many others are inspired today by the music of the Beatles gives me hope.

And despite the absence of much of a plausible plot, "Across the Universe" was a pleasurable experience.

By the way it did receive an Academy Award nomination — for costume design. It lost.

While I didn't think it deserved nominations for much of anything else, I can't help but wish there was some way to recognize the imagery in the movie. At times it could be quite impressive.

Sunday, August 27, 2017

Something of a Nowhere Man



"If anyone was the fifth Beatle, it was Brian."

Paul McCartney

When one thinks of any of the greatest people in any walk of life, it can seem — in hindsight — that they had a sort of historical inevitability. But such people seldom, if ever, achieve their success with no help from anyone.

Sadly, many of the people who are most responsible for others' successes are not recognized for what they accomplished.

It's hard to imagine, for example, where the Beatles would have been without Brian Epstein, who never performed with the Beatles and was probably largely unknown, even by the Beatles' fans at the height of Beatlemania.

They might well have reached the heights they reached, anyway. But it almost certainly would have taken longer to get there — much longer — if he hadn't been around to manage them. And there are those who believe that if the Beatles' implosion as a band was inevitable, it was hastened by Epstein's absence.

In the early '60s it was Epstein's faith in the Beatles and what he believed they could be that led to a contract with producer George Martin in May 1962 — and the hits started coming in bunches. "Please Please Me." "Love Me Do." "P.S. I Love You."

And that was just in 1962. There were many more hit songs to come.

And many hit albums, too, including "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band," arguably the greatest album ever recorded. It had been in music stores only three months when Epstein was found dead in his bedroom in London on this day in 1967.

There is a pretty good case to be made that Epstein left enormous footprints on the world's cultural landscape. He first saw the Beatles at the now–legendary Cavern Club in November 1961 and became their manager shortly thereafter. With his experience in sales and promotions Epstein took the Beatles in hand and made them presentable by the standards of the day, and they became major hits in the U.K.

The time would come when the Beatles would rewrite those standards, but by heeding Epstein's initial counsel of conformity they were able to get their feet in the door. From that point, their success positioned them to have that kind of influence.

It is often said that Ed Sullivan gave the Beatles to the world. But that isn't entirely true. Sullivan gave the Beatles to America, launching the British invasion, which could be seen as the same thing as giving them to the world. Then, as now, America was the ground zero of global communication, and anything that was a hit here was sure to have ripple effects all over the planet.

But the invasion might never have happened if Epstein hadn't taken over as their manager.

And yet today, 50 years after Epstein's accidental death, caused by a combination of alcohol and an overdose of sleeping pills, he is forgotten by most — a real Nowhere Man.

But perhaps not entirely. He finally received a spot in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland in 2014, more than a quarter of a century after the band he discovered was inducted and at least 10 years since each Beatle (with the exception of Ringo Starr) was inducted as an individual performer.

Better late than never, I suppose.

Thursday, July 06, 2017

The Birth of the Beatles



This is a milestone anniversary in the annals of 20th century music.

For it was on this day in 1957 that John Lennon and Paul McCartney, perhaps the most successful songwriting team in history, met for the first time.

Three years before forming the Beatles, Lennon and his band, the Quarrymen, were performing for the second time. They were providing the music at a church festival. McCartney was there.

Lennon asked McCartney to join the band, and he did — even though his father and aunt didn't approve of Lennon. They considered him to be beneath them — although McCartney's father allowed the band to practice in his home.

It was through McCartney that Geoerge Harrison joined the band. McCartney recommended him to play lead guitar, but Lennon thought he was too young (14 at the time). Harrison won him over by playing "Raunchy" on the top deck of a bus in Liverpool.

Ringo Starr joined the band later.

It was 60 years ago today, though, that the nucleus of the band that would dominate popular music for a decade and beyond was born.

Saturday, December 10, 2016

'Wings Over America' Was Amazing Yet Disappointing



The buzz that preceded the release 40 years ago today of "Wings Over America," a three–record album of Paul McCartney and Wings performing live on their mid–'70s American tour, was unlike anything I had ever seen before.

It hadn't been all that long, really, since the Beatles broke up, and I guess the withdrawal from the excitement of Beatlemania was too great for many fans. The tour was the first time McCartney had performed in the United States since the Beatles toured North America in the '60s, and there was a great desire to hear what McCartney sounded like in concert.

My sense was that there was general disappointment in the album even though it reached #1 on the Billboard LP chart. That was pretty amazing for a three–record set. I guess you had to be an ex–Beatle to accomplish that feat.

Immediately after their breakup, the Beatles embarked on their individual projects. Initially, the most successful ex–Beatle had to be George Harrison with not one but two extraordinarily well–received triple albums, "Concert for Bangladesh" and "All Things Must Pass." McCartney soon surpassed him, though, with several successful albums — but his triple album did not come along until "Wings Over America" hit the stores 40 years ago today.

"Wings Over America" contained mostly songs from those albums. Today it serves as kind of a nice time capsule, reminding us of what McCartney was doing in those first few years away from the Beatles, but at the time many fans wanted to hear McCartney performing Beatles songs. There was still hope, as I recall, that the Beatles would reunite, and that hope persisted for four more years until the assassination of John Lennon. In the '70s rumors of Beatles reunions were as rampant as Elvis sightings.

McCartney did oblige his fans by including live performances of five Beatles songs — but he provided considerably more than that 14 years later in another live triple album, "Tripping the Live Fantastic."

"Maybe I'm Amazed" was the only single released from the entire album, but it was far from being McCartney's most recent studio recording. It first appeared on his 1970 album, "McCartney," an album that was regarded more at the time as McCartney's attempt to cash in on the week–old breakup of the Beatles.

That album opened some wounds among Beatles fans that fester to this day.

But "Maybe I'm Amazed" found a wider audience as a live recording than it ever did as a studio piece. For those who had been following the four Beatles since their breakup, that may have been the most amazing thing about "Wings Over America."

After all, there were more than two dozen tracks on "Wings Over America." About 80% were from albums McCartney had made in the six years since the Beatles' breakup — and many, but not all, had been hits. There was a live version, for example, of "Live and Let Die," McCartney's musical contribution to the James Bond film series. And there was a live version of "Band on the Run," which may have been McCartney's most successful solo record up to that time.

"Maybe I'm Amazed" would have been the choice of few to be the only single from the album. Yet it was — and it was a big hit.

In hindsight, I guess the only single from that three–record set had to be a song that had been out there for awhile, not a recent release. Of course, that opens the door for an argument that a Beatles song should have been the single. But I suppose that gets us into issues of ownership rights and things like that.

I don't know whose idea it was to make "Maybe I'm Amazed" the only single from the album. But whoever thought of it was spot on.

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Paul and Linda McCartney's Only Album



"Ram," which hit the music stores on this day in 1971, was not Paul McCartney's first post–Beatles album.

That distinction belonged to an album that was simply called "McCartney." It was released a year earlier, and — in my opinion, at least, but also in the opinions of many others — it was an inferior product even though it did give McCartney what was, technically, his first solo hit, "Maybe I'm Amazed."

(While "Maybe I'm Amazed" received ample praise and airplay in 1970, the studio recording from "McCartney" was never released as a single. It wasn't until 1977 that the live recording from "Wings Over America" became a Top 10 hit.)

"Ram" was the only album credited to both Paul and Linda McCartney; even though Linda was a member of her husband's post–Beatles band, Wings, and recorded several albums with him before her death, her only listed credits on those other efforts were her contributions to the band musically and/or lyrically.

She seemed largely content to play a supporting role to her husband. I guess that's a pretty easy choice to make if you're married to an ex–Beatle.

I have come to believe that the breakup of a band is very similar to the breakup of a marriage. The more idyllic such a partnership seems to be, the harder it is for others to accept its end, which may account in part for the lukewarm reaction to "McCartney."

At first, fans and critics weren't exactly wild about "Ram," either. Perhaps, like many children of divorce, those fans and critics resisted anything that made it more likely the change was permanent, desperately believing a reunion was possible.

To be fair, sometimes couples do reunite — Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor come to mind — but those truly are the exceptions, and the ones that succeed are even more exceptional. In the world of music, reunions seem to be even rarer occurrences, perhaps because they involve not just a couple but four or five people, possibly more. When they happen in music, they tend to be one–shot deals for special events, not long–term arrangements.

What is more likely is that an ex–band member, like an ex–spouse, will find a new love and move on. A tepid response from friends and relatives may be all that is necessary to crush a blossoming relationship.

But sometimes the new loves of divorced parents win over the children — perhaps not entirely but sufficiently. So it seems to have been with Linda McCartney and diehard Beatles fans, at least in the 1970s. The dream of a Beatles reunion persisted for 10 years but died when John Lennon died in 1980; after that, it always seemed to me, Paul McCartney was more widely accepted as a solo performer, although he and Linda achieved considerable success with Wings in the 1970s.

That success, it seemed to me, truly began with "Ram."

And I have always felt that "Uncle Albert" was the first of McCartney's post–Beatles hits, some with Wings (which disbanded in 1981), most under McCartney's name alone.

"Ram" spawned other singles, too, but they didn't have the commercial success that "Uncle Albert" had. Wings formed after "Ram" was released, but it, too, received poor reactions from fans and critics after its first two albums, "Wild Life" and "Red Rose Speedway."

(In hindsight, much of that reaction may have been the result of the perception of McCartney's role in the Beatles' breakup. In most fractured relationships, one of the partners is perceived to have been responsible for the breakup — or, at least, more responsible than the other. Fairly or unfairly, McCartney was long believed by many Beatles fans to have been the reason the band broke up.)

It wasn't until 1973's "Band on the Run" that McCartney and Wings started to enjoy regular commercial success.

And the course of popular music was changed forever.

Thursday, December 03, 2015

The 50th Birthday of 'Rubber Soul'



"Rubber Soul," the album the Beatles released on this day in 1965, is musical proof of the Theory of Evolution. As Rolling Stone observed when naming "Rubber Soul" the fifth–greatest album of all time, "The moptops were evolving in remarkable ways."

In fact, if you judge by the rankings on Rolling Stone's list, "Rubber Soul" — even at #5 on that list — is the third–best Beatles album behind "Revolver," which hit record stores nine months later, and "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band," which followed "Revolver." Creatively, I suppose, the Beatles were in their prime — even though that rather simplistic approach overlooks the creativity of later albums like "Abbey Road" (my personal favorite) and "Let It Be."

After all these years, "Sgt. Pepper" still gets most of the press, but diehard Beatles fans will tell you that "Rubber Soul" was the true turning point, the start of the Beatles' experimental phase. And when I say that, I'm not just speaking of the substances they ingested although there certainly was plenty of that going on. The Beatles were experimenting musically — with different sounds, different themes, different studio techniques. They stopped doing covers of other people's songs and did exclusively their own stuff — until a dab of "Maggie Mae" popped up on the "Let It Be" album.

"Rubber Soul" was one of the first Beatles albums I ever owned — albeit a cassette tape — along with "A Hard Day's Night." It really had something for nearly every musical taste — folk rock, pop music, soul, R&B, even the still–emerging psychedelic style. Their work was influenced primarily by Bob Dylan, the Byrds, the Beach Boys and the popular soul groups of the day.

Many people think George Harrison introduced listeners to the sitar in later albums, but the sitar made its first official appearance in a song on a Beatles album on "Rubber Soul" — even though technically, I suppose, you could say the sitar made its debut on the soundtrack for "Help!" as one of several instruments featured on instrumental versions of songs that appeared on the Beatles' "Help!" album.

The sitar made a significant contribution to "Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)," which has always been one of my favorite Beatles songs. But you could pick just about any song on "Rubber Soul" and say it was your favorite on the album — and you could make a good case for it, whichever song it turned out to be.

The best — and probably most recognizable — tunes on the album are "Drive My Car," "Nowhere Man," "Michelle," "In My Life."

But that doesn't mean the others aren't just as good — "You Won't See Me," "The Word," "What Goes On," "Girl," "I'm Looking Through You," "If I Needed Someone."

Harrison, who was really coming into his own as a songwriter, said the album was "the best one we made ... we were suddenly hearing sounds that we weren't able to hear before." Ringo Starr observed, "There was a lot of experimentation ... influenced, I think, by the substances."

Be that as it may, "Rubber Soul" has long been regarded as a landmark album in the establishment of what came to be known as "world music." In the next few years, instruments that had not been heard in popular recordings suddenly were everywhere. Even now, half a century later, the heirs of that genre can be heard.

One song on the album would be regarded as politically incorrect if it was released today. Just the title of the song — "Run For Your Life" — sounds menacing, but the more you realize that the singer is singing about his girlfriend and addressing her with the belittling moniker of "little girl," the more you realize how menacing it truly is.
"Well I'd rather see you dead, little girl
Than to be with another man
You better keep your head, little girl
Or I won't know where I am
You better run for your life if you can, little girl
Hide your head in the sand, little girl
Catch you with another man
That's the end, little girl"


The song was credited, as most were, to the Lennon–McCartney songwriting partnership, but it was mostly penned by John Lennon, and it is my understanding that it was inspired by an early Elvis Presley song, "Baby, Let's Play House."

Well, that's what Lennon said. It may also have had some autobiographical elements to it. It is known that, as a young man, Lennon was jealous and possessive and admitted hitting his women. "Run For Your Life" hit the record stores in the third year of his first marriage, a marriage that would end in divorce three years later.

Lennon said it was his least favorite Beatles song; later he said he regretted writing it, although reportedly it was George Harrison's favorite "Rubber Soul" song at the time it was released.

It has been argued that Lennon returned to the theme in a kinder and gentler fashion in "Jealous Guy" from his "Imagine" album.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

'Satisfaction:' The Triumph of the British Invasion



If you weren't alive during the so–called British invasion of the mid–20th century and you would like an idea of how thoroughly and how quickly it succeeded in capturing the imagination of American youth, you really need look no further than the Rolling Stones' "Satisfaction," which was released in the Stones' homeland — the United Kingdom — 50 years ago today.

It was released in the United States nearly three months earlier.

Although there had been earlier reports in the American media of the popular music being made in England, the British invasion of United States pop culture generally is believed to have begun when the Beatles arrived in New York to appear on the Ed Sullivan Show in February 1964. By 1965, it seems the invasion was over, and the British performers were here to stay. America was where the money was. Media, too.

There is a pretty convincing case to be made for the significance of the year 1965 in modern popular music history. The Beatles had three of the top five hits of the year — "Help!" "Yesterday" and "Ticket to Ride" — but the Stones' "Satisfaction" was the top–selling single of the year, followed by America's Bob Dylan's "Mr. Tambourine Man."

If you listened to the radio in 1965, you heard some of the biggest hits ever recorded by The Kinks, The Who, The Supremes, The Mamas and the Papas, The Beach Boys, The Yardbirds, The Moody Blues, Marvin Gaye, James Brown, Wilson Pickett, Roger Miller, Tom Jones, Herman's Hermits, The Temptations, and the list went on.

I was a small child in those days, and many of my peers had older brothers and sisters who introduced them to the music of the time, but my experience was different. I was the oldest in my family but far too young to be interested in the radio, and my parents rarely listened to the radio (my father would switch it on in the car if there was a good football game being played). I suppose my exposure to the music of my generation would have been further delayed if not for the fact that my father was a professor at one of the three colleges in my hometown, and he and my mother typically hired his students to watch my brother and me when they wanted to go out for dinner or a movie or something else. Sometimes the students came to our house to watch my brother and me; other times, my parents dropped us off at the dorm, and I can remember hearing the music of that time echoing through the halls of the dorms.

Undoubtedly, that is where I heard many songs for the first time. It is probably why I feel as if I have always known the words to some songs — I heard them played over and over again when I was young.

(If brainwashing were as benign as simply implanting song lyrics into one's brain, I could probably support it. But, I suppose, that form of brainwashing already exists.)

Speaking of which, it is funny how the brain functions, isn't it? I mean, every time I hear "Satisfaction," I remember — however briefly — when I saw "Apocalypse Now" and it was featured on the movie's soundtrack.

Thursday, August 06, 2015

Everyone Needs a Little 'Help!' Now and Then



Fifty years ago today, the Beatles stood on the brink of an historic shift in popular music. In a few months, they would enter uncharted creative waters. They would release "Rubber Soul," which included the almost obligatory love songs with which early Beatles albums had become inextricably linked but also boasted an increasing number of songs that showcased the evolving maturity of each Beatle and gave listeners a glimpse of what was to come. Rolling Stone ranked "Rubber Soul" fifth on its list of the 500 greatest albums of all time.

In 1966, the Beatles would follow "Rubber Soul" with "Revolver," Rolling Stone's third–greatest album of all time.

"Help!" the British version of which was released 50 years ago today, didn't fare poorly with Rolling Stone, either; it was named the 331st album on the magazine's list of the 500 greatest albums of all time. It was really more of the same that the Beatles had been peddling for a couple of years — many routine love songs with some cover tunes and a few unique numbers thrown in.

(Actually, all of the Beatles' albums deserved to be ranked among the Top 500 of all time — and most of them were.)

In hindsight, change was clearly in the air — even if the Beatles themselves didn't realize it. At this point in the Beatlemania phenomenon, I think the Beatles were being carried along by their own momentum — and the formula that had made that momentum possible had been established for quite awhile. But if the Beatles were going to continue to be the dominant force in popular music, some changes would have to come. In 1965, the Beatles were beginning to face some real challenges to their musical creativity.

The British "Help!" was sort of a semi–soundtrack. Half of the 14 songs on the British album were in the movie "Help!" which was in theaters in late July 1965 whereas the American version really was a traditional soundtrack from the movie — which, according to the Beatles themselves, was made in a "haze of marijuana." The American album had fewer tracks than the British album and featured three tracks from the movie by non–Beatles. So the British version of "Help!" really was more of a Beatles album than the American version — which was also more of the same. American marketers routinely and shamelessly cut songs from the British counterparts and tried to squeeze more profits from the Beatles by slicing and dicing Beatles records to make extra albums.

(I've never seen the movie "Help!" It's the only Beatles movie I haven't seen, which is why I didn't write about it on the 50th anniversary of its premiere last week. But I've read some interesting interpretations by others, especially Martin King of The Independent: "The representation of masculinity embodied in 'Help!' is a key stepping stone to more obvious displays of gender fluidity that were to emerge in later decades," King wrote. He went on to discuss how, in "Help!" the Beatles heralded the coming of the metrosexual male decades before the word was coined. I never really thought of that. I just liked the music.

(Not much seems to have been written about the 50th anniversary of the release of the British edition of the "Help!" album. About the movie? Yes. But not about the albums, either the British or American versions.)

Both records had two very successful singles — "Ticket to Ride" and the title song "Help!" — but the British album also contained the tune that may be the most covered song not just in the annals of Beatles music but in the history of all recorded music, "Yesterday."

To be sure, there were other songs on "Help!" that had that unique Beatles brand and probably should never be sung by anyone else — even a Beatles tribute band. "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away" was such a song, as was "I've Just Seen a Face."

But there were also songs that merited little more than a minor mention. George Harrison's two songwriting efforts — "I Need You" and "You Like Me Too Much" — showed potential, but his compositions were not yet up to the level they would reach in later albums.

Personally, I have always been fond of "Act Naturally," the Beatles' cover of Buck Owens' tongue–in–cheek 1963 country chart–topper that made him a star. It was a song that went unrecorded for a few years after it was written because music publishers didn't think songs about the movie business would sell.

After Owens made it a hit, others began to cover it, and so did the Beatles. I have heard some of those covers, and I have concluded that, apart from Owens, only Ringo Starr could have sung it plausibly, and sing it he did.

Nearly a quarter of a century after Ringo recorded the cover for the Beatles, he and Owens got together to record a duet of the song.

It wound up spending a few weeks on the country charts, but Ringo didn't have the distinction of being the first Beatle to make the country charts. That honor went to Paul McCartney and Wings with "Sally G." in 1974.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

The End of the Beatles' Long and Winding Road



Forty–five years ago today, the fourth and final movie featuring the Beatles — "Let It Be" — made its debut. Beatles fans were already becoming familiar with the music from the film — the soundtrack had been released in the United Kingdom a few days earlier and would be released in the United States a few days later.

At the Academy Awards the next year, the "Let It Be" was declsred the Best Original Score.

It was also released about five weeks after Paul McCartney had announced he was leaving the band. The signs of an approaching breakup had been there long before.

"Let It Be" was the only Beatles movie that had no real plot, which made it, in my opinion, the purest of the movies when it came to musical content. That is what the movie really was, a document of a prolonged recording session. It was also the filmed record of a popular band going through its death throes. It happens to most bands, I suppose. For any of several reasons, the band reaches its limit, and the members all understand it is time to look for something new. It didn't seem to surprise them, and it shouldn't have come as much of a surprise to anyone who had been paying attention, either. Nevertheless, many fans still seemed to be in shock at the thought of the Fab Four never performing together again.

I guess it all defied logic. The fans could read newspapers and magazines that detailed the band's breakup, yet, at the same time, there was another Beatles movie showing at the nation's theaters, and new Beatles music was playing on the radio. Nothing really seemed to have changed, the deniers told themselves, conveniently overlooking the evidence of an approaching breakup that had been accumulating for months. How could it be over?

Ah, but it was. The Beatles never performed as a band again. They each recorded solo albums and frequently collaborated with one or more of their former bandmates. I believe all four did play on one of Ringo Starr's albums — but on separate songs.

There were probably some hard feelings that lingered for awhile. Each Beatle seemed to have his personal agenda. In the movie, there appeared to be personality clashes between McCartney and each of his bandmates — but especially George Harrison, it seemed — at one time or another. John Lennon seemed to be obsessed with his new love interest, Yoko Ono. I'm sure Ringo had his issues, too. I just never could figure out what they were, other than he just wanted the band to keep making music — like they did when Beatlemania was new and the Beatles dominated the charts.

In the rapid–fire universe of popular music, a few weeks or months can seem like a lifetime. The half–decade that passed between the Beatles' first movie — "A Hard Day's Night" — and their last — "Let It Be" — must have seemed like a millennium, especially when you think of all the musical territory that was explored by the Beatles in the interim.

Their music had certainly traveled light years from "Can't Buy Me Love" to "The Long and Winding Road," on the silver screen. They had gained an astonishing amount of maturity since they made their debut in America.

I found it fascinating to watch the Beatles taking those final, often tortured steps on that long and winding road. I still do. I seem to come away from each viewing with a different — and no less valid — sense of what I have seen and what significance it may have had in the eventual outcome.

Maybe that was the idea all along.

Friday, May 08, 2015

The Beatles' Swan Song



Forty–five years ago today, the Beatles released "Let It Be," the last album they would release as the Fab Four. It was also the soundtrack for the movie of the same name.

It was released on this date in the United Kingdom. The album was released in the United States 10 days later — after the movie hit the theaters.

In the years ahead, there would be compilation albums released exploring various themes. There would be a concert album that combined tracks from concerts in the Hollywood Bowl recorded about a year apart. There would even be a couple of singles that were made by combining recordings of the long–deceased John Lennon and the then–three surviving Beatles.

But there would be no more new, original albums.

Anyway, "Across the Universe" is my favorite song on the album. I have long said it is my favorite Beatles song of all, and it probably is although there are several songs that are worthy of that designation.

As it has been with many Beatles songs, there are plenty of cover versions of "Across the Universe" out there — and, as I have admitted many times before, as a rule I'm not a fan of Beatles cover songs — but I think my favorite is the one Fiona Apple did for the movie "Pleasantville."

Her voice always seemed right for that song — well, to me it did.

The title track is certainly a fan favorite. It was ranked the 20th greatest song of all time by Rolling Stone, and I am certain that it is one of the most recognizable Beatles tunes ever recorded. Probably more recognizable than "Hey Jude" or "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" — or even "I Wanna Hold Your Hand."

I've heard — more than once — that Paul McCartney wanted to write the Beatles' equivalent of "Bridge Over Troubled Water," arguably Simon and Garfunkel's signature song, so he wrote "Let It Be." That would be plenty for most people — to have inspired a Beatles song — and I like both songs, but I think Simon and Garfunkel's song was better.

(Even though Paul Simon, who wrote most of the song, loathed the part that Art Garfunkel wrote — "Sail on, silver girl ..." — and reportedly came to believe that he, not Garfunkel, should have sung it on the record.)

I would certainly list "Let It Be" as one of the favorites from the album. It was the title track, after all.

Another favorite is "Get Back," which was performed in the famous rooftop concert on the roof of Apple's (that's the recording company, not the computer company) headquarters in London in January 1969 — the last public appearance of the Beatles.

If you get the chance to see the movie, you can see portions of the 42–minute concert that drew a crowd of curious onlookers, including British police who broke up the show.

If you listen to the album, you'll hear several songs that aren't generally well known to non–Beatles fans — like "One After 909," "Two Of Us," "I Me Mine" and lots more.

But nothing can compare to the feeling I get when I see the Beatles performing "I've Got a Feeling" for an audience.

Wish I could have been there.

Thursday, December 04, 2014

Selling the Real Beatles



"Beatles For Sale," which was released 50 years ago today, marked a noteworthy shift in the evolution of Beatles' music.

Bookended by the albums that were released with their first two movies — "A Hard Day's Night" and "Help!""Beatles For Sale" demonstrated the Beatles' increasing desire to showcase their own compositions and make them more autobiographical.

They still had some cover tunes on the album — by Chuck Berry, Carl Perkins and Buddy Holly — most of which had been regulars on their play lists in Germany, but more than half of the songs were original tunes. Actually, that proportion of originals to covers was the same as their first two albums before "A Hard Day's Night," but there was more of an edge to the original songs this time.

Gone were the puff pieces like "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" and "She Loves You." They were replaced with songs of loss and angst.

American listeners didn't get the chance to purchase "Beatles For Sale" for more than 20 years. In the practice of the day, American promoters sold part of the album combined with leftovers from other albums in an attempt to squeeze as much profit from Beatlemania as possible. After all, who knew how long Beatlemania would last?

The closest thing to "Beatles For Sale" that was available in the U.S. was "Beatles '65," which did contain what is probably my favorite song from either version, "Baby's in Black."

"Beatles '65" was a big hit in the United States even though it wasn't the same album that was released in Great Britain — and it had what was, initially, a controversial cover that the promoters had to change. Makes you wonder if, in the end, it was worth it to sell different versions of Beatles albums in the U.S. than were sold in the U.K.

In hindsight, I guess it really did make the American promoters re–think their approach to Beatles marketing. I don't believe any of the albums by other artists that those promoters marketed were sliced and diced that way for American consumption.

Sunday, November 16, 2014

A Special Treat From Pink Floyd



Earlier this week, Columbia Records released Pink Floyd's "The Endless River," a collection of previously unreleased tracks recorded during the sessions that produced "The Division Bell" 20 years ago.

I didn't get the CD on the first day it was available in the United States (it was actually released a few days earlier in the United Kingdom). I got my copy after it was released, but I've been listening to it whenever I could since then.

I grew up listening to Pink Floyd. Well, from my teen years on, I suppose. As a youngster, I listened to the Beatles a lot. Then, sometime in my teens, I heard "Wish You Were Here" and "Dark Side of the Moon." I've been a Pink Floyd fan ever since.

I still love the Beatles, of course. I like a lot of different kinds of music. In fact, I'll listen to just about anything — except rap. To any of you who may be rap fans, I'm sorry. I just don't consider it music. One of my students once asked me, "What's your favorite rap song?"

And I replied, "The closest thing to rap in my collection is Bob Dylan singing 'Subterranean Homesick Blues.'"

Anyway, I thought I would never hear another new release from either the Beatles or Pink Floyd. I was wrong.

Nearly 20 years ago, the surviving Beatles took recordings John Lennon had made and dubbed in their own vocals and musical instruments to create not one but two songs featuring the Beatles — even though Lennon was dead. They weren't exactly new to me. I had heard Lennon's solo recordings. But it was nice to hear the four of them performing together again. That part was new to me.

And now Pink Floyd has one–upped the Beatles with an entire album. The music is mostly instrumental — with the exception of the final track — but fans will recognize the sound immediately. This isn't a jerry–rigged Pink Floyd with someone brought in to fill in for the late Richard Wright or the long–departed Roger Waters. It's Wright with David Gilmour and Nick Mason.

I have told people that I hear elements of past Floyd albums like "Dark Side of the Moon" and "Wish You Were Here" — and I do, to the extent that I expect the music to go in one direction, even after several hearings, and then it goes in an entirely different direction — but I also hear things you might not expect from Floyd — for example, I hear sounds that remind me of Yes and Rick Wakeman.

Like those "new" Beatles songs that were released nearly 20 years ago, "The Endless River" is a special treat I never thought I would get from an old favorite.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Simon & Garfunkel's First Album



It should come as no surprise that the Beatles were the most popular recording artists in the 1960s, but Simon & Garfunkel's popularity easily rivaled the Beatles' by the time the decade ended.

Simon & Garfunkel made their debut on this day in 1964 with the release of their "Wednesday Morning, 3 AM" album — but widespread acclaim did not come until after they released their second album, "Sounds of Silence," a year and a half later.

Recorded over three daytime sessions in the spring of 1964, "Wednesday Morning, 3 AM" offered five original songs and several traditional folk songs, much like the composition of Bob Dylan's debut album.

And, again, like Dylan's album, it offered a glimpse into the future.

It was my mother who introduced me to Simon & Garfunkel when I was just a little boy. Mostly it was the music from the "Sounds of Silence" album, which Mom played frequently — and loudly — on our old stereo. I have no memory of hearing "Wednesday Morning, 3 AM" until I was much older, maybe when I was in college.

I don't think there were any hits on the album, nothing that would be recognizable to anyone except the really hard–core Simon & Garfunkel fans.

And Mom was a pretty devoted fan. She probably heard some of the tracks from "Wednesday Morning, 3 AM," which led her to purchase Simon & Garfunkel's second album. I have many memories of her humming along with songs from "Sounds of Silence" and "Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme." Sometimes, when the spirit really moved her, she would belt out the songs with the gusto of Ethel Merman. My brother and I were her audience. We were little, but we would cheer and applaud when she sang Simon & Garfunkel.

I don't recall hearing her sing most of the songs from "Wednesday Morning, 3 AM," though, which is a shame. There were some good songs on that album. Not great songs, but good songs — and, as I say, they gave people a taste of what to expect.

The original Paul Simon songs on the album clearly indicated a folk direction to Simon & Garfunkel's music at the time. I guess the folk genre was always appropriate for Simon & Garfunkel's music, but it was probably most pronounced on "Wednesday Morning, 3 AM" with its acoustic guitar presence, but it also had an element the duo's other four studio albums lacked — a banjo.

Of course, there were glimpses of the hit machine Simon & Garfunkel would become — like the original "The Sound of Silence," which it seems to me was the first Simon & Garfunkel song my mother brought home — in the form of a 45 rpm single.

That wasn't necessarily the version that was on the album that was released 50 years ago today. It might have been the revised (and, in my opinion, inferior) version that was included on the duo's next album — the one that brought them wide recognition.

So perhaps she heard "Wednesday Morning, 3 AM" after all. That song was featured more prominently in the album that shared that name.

I liked other original Paul Simon songs on the album, too. "Bleecker Street" was probably my favorite, but the historian in me appreciated "He Was My Brother," a song that was inspired by the murders of three civil rights workers in Mississippi in the summer of 1964. One of those workers, Andrew Goodman, had been a classmate of Simon's. The song took certain liberties — for example, it said that the unnamed brother was five years older, when, in fact, Simon was about two years older than Goodman.

It was still a good song — and it was, I believe, Simon & Garfunkel's first foray into topical songwriting. It was also the song that first attracted the attention of Columbia Records.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

You Just Can't Make This Stuff Up



This has already been a noteworthy year for Beatles fans.

February marked the 50th anniversary of the Beatles' arrival in America and their appearances on The Ed Sullivan Show. Earlier this month was the 50th anniversary of the premiere of the Beatles' first movie, "A Hard Day's Night," and the LP that contained the songs from the movie.

At the end of the year will come the 50th anniversary of the Beatles' fourth album, "Beatles For Sale," which was sandwiched between the albums that were tied to the Beatles' first two movies — and, as a consequence, is often overlooked, even though it had a lot of significance in the evolution of the Beatles as a band.

But I'll talk about that in a few months.

Today's Beatles news comes to us from the American West Coast, from Los Angeles' Griffith Park — frequently called Los Angeles' Central Park, although Griffith Park actually is bigger and rougher — where a pine tree was planted in memory of Beatle George Harrison in 2004. Harrison died in 2001.

Well, it turns out that a new tree will have to be planted in its place. Why? Because the old one has been killed ... by beetles!

I'm sorry about the tree, but I can't tell you how appropriate it is for this to be a news story at this time. I and my colleagues at the community college where I am an adjunct journalism professor have been conducting a workshop this week for area high school students who are interested in journalism. It's been a crash course in all the basics of news coverage, including the things that make a story newsworthy — and a reminder of the things that drew me to this business in the first place.

This is one of those stories that proves that truth really is stranger than fiction.

Sunday, July 06, 2014

A Hard Day's Journey Into Night



"It's been a hard day's night
And I've been working like a dog
It's been a hard day's night
I should be sleeping like a log
But when I get home to you
I find the things that you do
Will make me feel all right"


John Lennon and Paul McCartney

The Beatles made four movies.

The first one, "A Hard Day's Night," made its debut on this date in 1964. The soundtrack album was released a few days later, racing to the top of the charts and staying there for 14 weeks.

If you're planning to watch the movie for the first time, though, here's my advice: Don't look for much of a plot.

The movie refused to take itself seriously, which was a good thing, really, because the Beatles never seemed to take themselves seriously. They seemed to be amused by how seriously the rest of us took them.

The world took everything they said or did as a pearl of ancient wisdom — which may have accounted for the enthusiastic response to "A Hard Day's Night." It was fun. It was cheeky.

The movie always reminds me of a group of kids playing with their father's video camera. They had adventurous spirits, and they liked to try new things, never knowing if the outcome of their experimentation would be good or bad. (That doesn't change the fact that the music in "A Hard Day's Night" was very good.)

The Beatles just seemed to shrug things off.

"It was clear from the outset that 'A Hard Day's Night' was in a different category from the rock musicals that had starred Elvis and his imitators," wrote film critic Roger Ebert. "It was smart, it was irreverent, it didn't take itself seriously, and it was shot and edited by Richard Lester in an electrifying black–and–white, semi–documentary style that seemed to follow the boys during a day in their lives. And it was charged with the personalities of the Beatles."

For example ...
Reporter: How did you find America?

John: Turned left at Greenland.

And ...
Reporter: Are you a mod or a rocker?

Ringo: Um, no. I'm a mocker.

And, of course ...
Reporter: Do you often see your father?

Paul: No, actually, we're just good friends.


I've been listening to the Beatles all my life. I've seen all their movies more than once, and I think I have discovered the secret (if that is what it is) of the Beatles' remarkable success.

The mere act of creating something — music, a movie, a book, whatever — was liberating, fulfilling for them. If it was commercially successful, so much the better — but that wasn't their primary concern. Like everyone else, they appreciated what money could do for them, but it wasn't what motivated them. The main thing was to create — and leave it to others to decide whether it was good or not.

"A Hard Day's Night" was a success both commercially and critically. Credit for the title was usually given to Ringo Starr, who said, "We went to do a job, and we'd worked all day and we happened to work all night. I came up still thinking it was day, I suppose, and I said, 'It's been a hard day...' and I looked around and saw it was dark so I said, '...night!' So we came to A Hard Day's Night."

Thus, a song/movie title that so many have treated as inspired actually came into being in an almost casual way — and from the most unlikely of the Beatles.

I am always fascinated by how something simple can evolve into something extraordinary — and, in hindsight, take on a kind of preordained aura. That's how "A Hard Day's Night," both the album and the movie, has always seemed to me.

It was nominated for two Oscars — Best Original Screenplay and Best Adaptation or Treatment Score — and lost both.

Friday, April 04, 2014

The Beatles' Historic High Five



The Beatles did something 50 years ago today that no one — not Elvis, not Mitch Miller, not Bob Dylan — had ever done — and no one has done since.

Their recordings occupied the top five spots in Billboard's Top 100.

"Can't Buy Me Love" was in the top spot. "Twist and Shout" was second.

Number three on the list was "She Loves You," followed by "I Want to Hold Your Hand" and "Please Please Me."

All five songs are among the Beatles' all–time Top 20 hits, according to Billboard.

The Beatles were less than two months removed from their first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show, but they were thoroughly dominating the music scene in America as Billboard's chart clearly demonstrated. Along with the top five spots, the Beatles held an additional seven positions in the Top 100:
  • #31 — "I Saw Her Standing There"
  • #41 — "From Me to You"
  • #46 — "Do You Want to Know a Secret?"
  • #58 — "All My Loving"
  • #65 — "You Can't Do That"
  • #68 — "Roll Over Beethoven"
  • #79 — "Thank You Girl"
A week later, the Beatles placed two more hits in the Top 100 — "There's a Place" and "Love Me Do" — giving them an incredible 14 songs on the list. In the last half–century, only the Bee Gees have come close to matching the Beatles' accomplishment, charting five songs in the Top 20, thanks to the wave of popularity for the music from "Saturday Night Fever" in March 1978.

Three of those top five songs (plus "A Hard Day's Night," "Love Me Do" and "I Feel Fine") were #1 at some point in 1964, setting a record for the most #1 hits in a single calendar year. (The exceptions were "Twist and Shout" and "Please Please Me.")

Five of their songs reached #1 in 1965.

Beatlemania was for real.

Sunday, February 09, 2014

The Beatles' First Appearance on Ed Sullivan




"Tonight, the whole country is waiting to hear England's Beatles."

Ed Sullivan
Feb. 9, 1964

The Ed Sullivan Show introduced America to many performers who went on to become icons, bestowing a kind of legitimacy on them, but, even for a show on which that was routine, today is the 50th anniversary of something that was truly special — and is still regarded as a milestone in the story of U.S. culture — America's introduction to the Beatles.

Lots of people — including Sullivan himself — expected it to be a repeat of the Elvis Presley experience. Elvis made his first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show to much media fanfare nearly eight years earlier, but it wasn't his first appearance on American TV. He had previously been on shows that were hosted by Steve Allen and Milton Berle.

Fifty years ago tonight, however, was the Beatles' very first live appearance on American television, and it drew an audience of 73 million — a number that has been exceeded several times since but was a record at the time.

The Beatles played five songs in their Ed Sullivan Show debut. They sang "All My Loving," "Till There Was You" and "She Loves You" in the first half of the show, then they played "I Saw Her Standing There" and "I Want To Hold Your Hand" in the second half.

A two–hour CBS special, "The Night That Changed America: A Grammy Salute to the Beatles," will be shown tonight at the same time as the original show. I plan to watch it. I wonder if it can capture the Beatles' "endearingly goofy" personae, to quote Andrea Peyser in the New York Post.

I work with college journalism students, who do seem to appreciate the Beatles' music, but I don't think they fully grasp what happened 50 years ago today, and I am skeptical that a TV program will change that.

"It is almost impossible to convey to anyone under 50 the immense impact and import of that event," writes Mark Hendrickson in Forbes, "because nothing comparable to it has ever happened."

That about says it all.

Friday, February 07, 2014

When Beatlemania Crossed the Pond



Many Americans probably knew little, if anything, about the Beatles when they arrived in America 50 years ago today.

That was understandable. John F. Kennedy had been assassinated 11 weeks earlier. Americans were in a daze, numb, grieving, shocked, scared. They weren't focused on pop culture.

Beatlemania was already in full force in England 50 years ago, and many Americans probably had already seen the Beatles in a four–minute segment on NBC's Huntley–Brinkley Report a few days before the assassination, but, in the dizzying flurry of events in late 1963, it would be understandable if few remembered.

(Then, as now, teenagers were more likely to be aware of shifts in pop culture than their elders, of course, and there was considerable excitement among the young on this day 50 years ago.)

CBS actually broadcast a segment on the Beatles on its morning news show the day of the assassination, a segment that was slated to be repeated on the evening news but was not, obviously, because of the events in Dallas. A couple of weeks later, CBS finally ran the segment on the evening news, prompting a hurried release of "I Want to Hold Your Hand" the day after Christmas.

The United States, consequently, was probably one of the last countries in the civilized world to recognize what was happening. But, like the rest of the world, music in America was dominated by Elvis Presley and the so–called "Memphis sound." Even the bands in Britain — the Beatles included — sought to emulate that sound, thinking it to be the key to their success.

But the Beatles — and the groups that followed them in the British invasion — were responsible for a new sound, and music lovers in America were looking for a new sound.

"Everything about them ... seemed outlandish, compared with American pop groups," writes Allan Kozinn in the New York Times. "And though their music was firmly rooted — as they were always quick to point out — in American rhythm and blues, soul and rock, they produced a sound that was fresh, energetic and unmistakably their own."

A lot of people in America were eager to hear that sound.

Roughly 4,000 people were on hand when the Beatles arrived at New York's John F. Kennedy Airport 50 years ago today — about the same number who saw them off at London's Heathrow Airport.

Two days later, they were introduced to the American people at large — via the Ed Sullivan Show — and set new records for TV viewership.

Beatlemania had arrived on American soil. America and the world would never be the same again.

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Up on the Roof With the Fab Four



"We went on the roof in order to resolve the live concert idea because it was much simpler than going anywhere else.

"Also nobody had ever done that so it would be interesting to see what happened when we started playing up there. It was a nice little social study.

"We set up a camera in the Apple reception area behind a window so nobody could see it, and we filmed people coming in.

"The police and everybody came in saying, 'You can't do that! You've got to stop.' "


George Harrison
'Anthology'

If there is a seminal moment from the '60s that still lives in pop lore, it is probably the fabled rooftop concert given by the Beatles on the roof of the Apple building in London on this date in 1969.

Ultimately, about half of the 42–minute show served as the concluding segment of "Let It Be" — the fourth and final Beatles movie.

As George Harrison said, it was an interesting study. The movie captured a range of reactions on the street level in London, from excitement to exasperation. In hindsight, probably the Beatles were the only musicians who had the luxury of conducting such a social experiment. Anyone else might have been arrested, and their careers would have been reduced to punchlines.

But they were the Beatles, internationally known. Everything they did made news — not always good news but news. They could get away with things that other groups could not — like playing loud music in the business district during the noon hour.

In the movie, pedestrians could be seen looking skyward, trying to ascertain where the sound was coming from. A few of the older pedestrians clearly were annoyed by the intrusion into their lives.

They didn't realize they were witnesses to history — the Beatles' last public concert. They were hearing something for which Beatles fans would yearn for 11 years — until John Lennon was murdered in December 1980 and it was no longer possible — a Beatles concert.

(In the 1970s, the talk was not of a Beatles concert but of a Beatles reunion. It was understood that they would perform together, but the shape that performance would take was never established in the discussions I heard or in which I participated. If such a reunion had taken place, it might have been on a TV show. It might even have been in the form of a multi–city tour.

And a few might have dreamed of a repeat of the rooftop performance. Who knows?)

The concert took place nearly five years to the day after the Beatles' first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show.