Showing posts with label John Lennon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Lennon. 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, 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.

Saturday, November 19, 2016

Welcome to Crackerbox Palace



OK, I know that "Thirty–Three & 1/3," the George Harrison album that was released in the United Kingdom on this day in 1976 (the U.S. release came five days later), wasn't the best he ever made.

Far from it.

But I liked it then, and I like it now, perhaps entirely because it contains one of my favorite songs from Harrison's solo career, "Crackerbox Palace."

I wouldn't underestimate another factor, though.

I didn't get that album the day it came out. I got it a month or so later — after I had been given a stereo for Christmas. This stereo was equipped with an 8–track player so Harrison's album was the first 8–track I ever bought.

My 8–track collection never got to be very large, but as long as I had that stereo, I had the Harrison 8–track, and I played it repeatedly.

Four singles were released from the album. The first was "This Song," which preceded the album by a couple of days.

It was all right, kind of reminiscent of Harrison's commercial style, I thought — at least up to that point.

There was, as one of the lyrics suggested, "nothing tricky about it." It was a spoof of the court case of "My Sweet Lord" and the allegation that it was a copyright infringement of the Chiffons' "He's So Fine."

(A few months before "Thirty–Three & 1/3" was released, Harrison was found guilty by a district court judge of "subconsciously" copying the Chiffons' song and fined more than $1.5 million, which included about three–quarters of the revenue from the single and a significant part of the revenue from the sales of the three–record set "All Things Must Pass" on which it appeared.)

But "Crackerbox Palace," it seemed to me, demonstrated how much Harrison had learned — especially about writing creative lyrics — from working with John Lennon all those years.

And I've always been a Lennon fan.

"Crackerbox Palace" was released as a single a couple of months after the album hit music stores.

The third single was a 20–year–old Cole Porter tune called "True Love," which was introduced to the music–loving world in the movie "High Society." Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly sang it.

Covers have been done by Jane Powell, Richard Chamberlain, Nancy Sinatra and in a duet by Elton John and Kiki Dee. I think even Elvis did a version of it.

But Harrison's was the only one I know that was done in a blues rock fashion.

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.

Saturday, July 25, 2015

An Ode to Fame



I remember the first time I heard David Bowie's "Fame." It was this day in 1975, the day the song hit the music stores and the air waves.

I remember it for the oddest of reasons. I was at my home in Arkansas packing for a family trip to Dallas to visit my grandmothers. It was the kind of trip my family had been making at least two or three times a year every year for as long as I could remember. It was a bit more meaningful for me this time, though. I would be attending a week–long workshop for high school journalism students at Southern Methodist University the next week, and, even before it started, I knew one of the participants — the son of some family friends. We had known each other all our lives.

Anyway, I had my radio on in my bedroom as I packed for the trip to Texas, and the D.J. announced the latest song from David Bowie. It had just been released that morning, he said, and he proceeded to play the song for his listeners. I stopped packing and sat down to listen to it. Forty years later, I still listen to it. For the last 25 years, I have tended to listen to the remix that was recorded in 1990 for the "Changesbowie" CD ...

... but hearing the original recording brings back sweet memories of those days. John Lennon, my favorite Beatle, was credited as a co–writer of the song, but Bowie did most of the heavy lifting — lyrically speaking. In late 1974, Lennon and Bowie met and started jamming together. In January 1975, they had a recording session that produced a cover of the Beatles' "Across the Universe" and a recording of the new song, "Fame."

Bowie said it was "nasty, angry," and acknowledged that it had been written with a malicious edge thanks to the nature of Bowie's relationship with the management group with whom he had been working.

Maybe Lennon's role in the creation of the song is why I was so drawn to it, but the truth is that I wasn't aware of his connection to the song when it was prominent on the radio. I just knew that I liked it.

I guess the style was funk — although I'm not really sure that's an accurate description. It was at a time when Bowie seemed to be obsessing over soul music. At any rate, anything that was co–written by Bowie and Lennon was bound to be unique.

Apparently, a lot of people were drawn to it. It became Bowie's biggest hit in the United States to that point. The song hit #1 on Billboard's Hot 100 and went to #1 in Canada as well. It was in the Top 10 in Norway and the Netherlands.

"Fame" was running through my head when I went to the SMU campus the following Monday to begin the journalism workshop. It was playing on my radio later in the day when I was back at my grandmother's house, and I could smell the evening meal cooking in the kitchen. If I close my eyes and listen to the original recording of "Fame," I probably can tell you what was on the menu.

For awhile there in the summer of '75, "Fame" was everywhere.

I like the remix. As I said, I've been listening to that version for many years. It doesn't revive memories from 40 years ago. But the original one sure does.

And, frankly, I have been surprised that more attention hasn't been paid to this milestone anniversary, especially when you consider how influential the song was in the summer of '75. Maybe people are too busy paying attention to the 40th anniversary of "Jaws."

But not Ryan Book. Last month, Book observed, in an article for Music Times, about Bowie's epic duets, that "perhaps the most legendary performer that Bowie ever formed a duet with was also the least present for the recording.

"'Fame' doesn't attempt to hide the fact that the former Beatle is included on the single,"
Book wrote, "yet it was hardly advertised as a duet. Bowie just happened to meet Lennon in New York while recording for Young Americans, and the pair shacked up for a few days and jammed. One of the results was a cover of 'Across The Universe,' but more unique inspiration was found when Lennon chanted the signature 'Fame!' line while guitarist Carlos Alomar improvised a riff. Bowie seized the initiative and quickly scribed the invective–laden lyrics, and keeping Lennon on as a rhythm guitarist, tasked vocally only with chanting the single word repeatedly. The song was tossed onto Young Americans at the last moment, and Bowie gave Lennon a disproportionate amount of songwriting credit, considering that he only contributed one word. Ah, but what an important word it was."

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.

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.

Friday, November 22, 2013

A Hard Day's Write



On this day in 1968, the Beatles released the only double album they would release while they were still together as a band.

Numerous multi–record collections were released after the group broke up, but the album that was released 45 years ago today — informally known as the White Album for its plain white cover — was the only exception to the single–record releases that characterized the Beatles' work.

Double albums were rare in the 1960s so that isn't really surprising. But it was the Beatles' first studio release in 18 months, and expectations were very high, being the Beatles' first album after the groundbreaking "Sgt. Pepper" album (well, technically, "Magical Mystery Tour" came out in November 1967, but it was not so much a Beatles album as a soundtrack for a British TV movie).

I suppose Apple wanted to make a big splash, and a double album was seen as a way to do that. Double albums were events in those days.

That seemed to promote misinterpretation of the significance of many of the songs. It is a bit disappointing for a Beatles fan like myself to realize that what the White Album largely is known for today, at least in the history books, is being the inspiration for Helter Skelter, the race war that the twisted Charles Manson and his easily manipulated followers envisioned.

The White Album was more than that. Rolling Stone named it the 10th greatest album of all time.

I'm sure any Beatles fan will tell you the music is what the White Album is about, even 45 years after its release. I can put that CD on today and still find songs that sound new and fresh and energetic.

And, while most of the songs were credited to the Lennon–McCartney team, there were a few songs by George Harrison and even one by Ringo Starr.

"Helter Skelter" was a song written by Paul McCartney and has been recognized as an early influence on the heavy metal musical genre. But the Manson family interpreted it as a description of an apocalyptic war — from which Manson would emerge to lead the survivors.

Manson, however, grew tired of waiting for "Helter Skelter" — as he had taken to calling this war — to happen on its own and decided he had to help it along. And thus the deadly sequence of events was put in motion, leading to a weekend of gruesome murders that were committed by Manson's followers in the summer of 1969.

That, at least, is what history remembers about the White Album. But there was so much more. Some of my favorite Beatles songs — like "Yer Blues" ...

That was written by John Lennon — but, like all the compositions by Lennon and McCartney during their Beatles days, it was credited to the Lennon–McCartney songwriting team. It is often noted, however, that the Lennon–McCartney designation is deceptive because very few of those songs were equal parts Lennon and McCartney. One or the other usually contributed most if not all of the work — and that may never have been as true as it was on the White Album.

There were 30 songs on the White Album — including one ("Revolution 9") that wasn't a song at all, just an eight–minute–plus collection of unrelated sounds — and 25 were credited to Lennon–McCartney, but most of them really were solo efforts.

And Harrison was emerging as a songwriter in his own right, contributing in new ways all the time.

I like all four of Harrison's compositions that appeared on the White Album, but probably my favorite is "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," which was featured in Harrison's "Concert for Bangladesh" a few years later.

On the White Album, Eric Clapton of the recently disbanded Cream made an uncredited appearance, playing lead guitar on "While My Guitar Gently Weeps."

In an online poll last year, readers of Guitar World named it Harrison's best as a Beatle. While you will find Harrison devotees who prefer one of his songs or another over that one, most Harrison fans probably could be persuaded to go along with that choice.

One song — "Don't Pass Me By" — was credited to Richard Sharkey, aka Ringo Starr (who also sang it on the album). It was his first solo composition.

During his Beatles days, Starr sang lead vocals on songs that were written by others (i.e., "Yellow Submarine," a McCartney composition, and "Act Naturally," which was written by Buck Owens) — and he sang his own compositions on his solo albums.

But "Don't Pass Me By" was Starr's first solo songwriting effort on an album.

Songwriting never seemed to be what motivated Starr. Lennon and McCartney, of course, were prodigious songwriters, and Harrison evolved from a somewhat hesitant songwriter to one who bubbled so with creativity that, after the Beatles broke up, he had to release a triple album to provide an outlet for the backlog of material that never found its way onto a Beatles album.

But Starr always seemed content merely to play the drums.

Some critics thought the White Album lacked a theme, that it was a collection of unrelated songs. That probably was true — although you have to understand that, in 1968, theme albums were kind of rare. As innovative as the Beatles were, they weren't ahead of the curve on everything. Some of their albums did explore themes, but most did not. That kind of thing was more prominent after the Beatles broke up.

The White Album influenced me in ways that other albums did not. It was recorded at a turbulent point in the story of the Beatles — all four were starting to move in their own directions — as well as a turbulent time in the histories of America and the world. No wonder there was a sense of melancholy isolation in many of the songs.

It was just that simple. They were each moving on. It became official less than two years later when McCartney left the band and the breakup was formalized.

The White Album prepared the Beatles' fans for the next phase. I suppose it fulfills a similar function today, preparing the listener for the next phase of his/her life.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Playin' Those 'Mind Games'



"We all been playin' those mind games forever
Some kinda druid dude liftin' the veil
Doin' the mind guerrilla
Some call it magic, the search for the grail."


John Lennon

John Lennon has always been my favorite Beatle, and his death was (for me, at least, and I am sure for many others around the world) the kind of event of which one says, "I remember where I was and what I was doing when ..."

(That's the kind of statement, incidentally, that I have heard a lot in recent days, being as we are nearly upon the 50th anniversary of John F. Kennedy's assassination. Perhaps that is why it springs so easily to mind in the context of a story about Lennon.)

But on this day in 1973, Lennon was neither a Beatle (anymore) nor the murdered ex–Beatle he became in 1980. He was a solo artist, and he released his single "Mind Games," the title track from the album he released a couple of weeks earlier, in the United Kingdom 40 years ago on this day.

The rest of the album wasn't bad, but the title track was really the only truly memorable song from it.

My fellow Lennon admirers will mention a whole range of songs when asked to name their favorite Lennon composition. Some are familiar to mainstream listeners, like "Imagine" or songs he wrote when he was with the Beatles, but some are rather obscure. If you mention them to Lennon fans, they will smile and nod their heads knowingly, but, more often than not, if you mention them to mainstreamers, their faces will show no recognition.

In many ways, "Mind Games" is like that. I think it is a classic Lennon melody with classic Lennon lyrics, easily comparable to any of the best songs he recorded with the Beatles or as a solo artist after the Beatles broke up.

Lennon's admirers will know of it; casual listeners probably will not.

And that probably plays games with a few minds today, just as it did with some critics 40 years ago.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

On the Road With U2



On this day 25 years ago, U2 released its "Rattle and Hum" record, the double album soundtrack for the movie by the same name — which wasn't released in the United States until the next month.

Critics were mixed in their reactions, but the album was quite successful, and, as far as I was concerned, there was no secret behind its success. U2 was a rising force in popular music at that time, and its power was best observed when it fed from the energy of the live audience.

The original concept was to document U2's tour of the United States in 1987. As a result, songs that were recorded in the last 25 years are not to be found on the album or in the movie.

But many of their best songs are to be found on it — like "Desire," "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For," and "Pride (In the Name of Love)" — along with cover versions of songs like "Helter Skelter" and "All Along the Watchtower" and a duet with B.B. King that produced a smash hit, "When Love Comes to Town."

It became one of my favorite albums when I bought it.

But my favorite track on the album probably received little airplay when the album was released. "Bullet the Blue Sky" may have been a little too long for most radio stations, at 5:37, and it was never released as a single, anyway. For a disc jockey to play it, the DJ had to know it was there and play it directly from the album.

In my experience, most DJs did not know it was there. I discovered it when I got the album.

For several years, I worked with a young man who was a devoted U2 follower. He had all their albums on CD — and, I confess, I copied some tracks from him.

I've still got 'em, and I listen to 'em from time to time.

And I have a CD of "Rattle and Hum" that I play frequently. Not all the way through. Just certain tracks.

I always listen to "Bullet the Blue Sky," and I often listen to "God Part II," which was something of a sequel to John Lennon's "God" and refers to another Lennon song, "Instant Karma," in its lyrics.

(Yesterday, by the way, would have been Lennon's 73rd birthday. I always wondered if that figured in the timing of the album's release, given the regard that Bono and the rest of the band have for Lennon.)

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Marathon Men



Fifty years ago tomorrow, the Beatles recorded their debut album, Please Please Me.

In a single day. In less than a single day. In roughly nine hours.

Well, not everything was recorded on that day. There were a few singles that had been released — and had been wildly popular. "Love Me Do," for example, was the Beatles' first release a few months earlier and rose to 17th on U.S. charts. "Please Please Me," the track for which the album was named, was #1 on most charts.

To capitalize on the popularity of those singles, the decision was made to release an album.

Albums were not always released in those days, but, when they were, it was typical in England for an album to include 14 songs. The two hits, with their B–side tracks, made four songs. The Beatles needed 10 more.

So, on Feb. 11, 1963, the Beatles recorded the rest of what would become the Please Please Ne album, which was released less than six weeks later.

The Beatles recorded all 10 songs in three three–hour sessions in London. Well, actually they recorded 11 songs, but one of the tracks, "Hold Me Tight," was not included. It was re–recorded later and wound up on the "With the Beatles" album a few months later.

"Twist and Shout" was the last one recorded because John Lennon had been sick, and producer George Martin was concerned that Lennon's voice might be ruined if they tried to record it first.

To everyone's surprise, the song was recorded in a single take. A second take was attempted, but, as Martin had feared, Lennon's voice was shot.

The first take was remarkable, though. Still is, for that matter.

In fact, if you listen to the Please Please Me album carefully, you can hear Lennon coughing in the background. Reportedly, he had been drinking milk and taking cough drops to soothe his throat, and it worked well enough for him to get through the other songs, but, after his vocal contribution to "Twist and Shout," he said his throat felt like "sandpaper," and it was weeks before his throat returned to normal.

Monday, February 04, 2013

Nothing's Gonna Change My World



"Sounds of laughter, shades of life
Are ringing through my opened ears
Inciting and inviting me.
Limitless undying love, which
Shines around me like a million suns,
It calls me on and on across the universe."


Lennon–McCartney

On this day in 1968, the Beatles recorded "Across the Universe."

Eventually, it appeared on "Let It Be," the last album the group released.

I suppose no one had ever dominated popular music the way the Beatles did in those days. Less than a year earlier, they had released "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band," which was widely praised and seen as a cultural game changer.

Only a few months earlier, they had wrapped up the recording sessions for the "White Album," so named for its white cover. That was the double album that was later revealed to have influenced Charles Manson and his murderous followers some 18 months later.

That album, I suppose, was in pre–production in February 1968. They were working on tracks for their final albums, but my guess is that their thoughts were on other things.

The Beatles, as accustomed to commercial success as they were bound to have become by that time, probably were more interested in Transcendental Meditation and its developer, Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.

There was clearly a spiritual element to the Beatles' songs during this period. It was mostly associated with George Harrison, but "Across the Universe" was actually composed by John Lennon and was credited, as had been the practice since the 1950s, to Lennon–McCartney.

Paul McCartney had little, if anything, to do with the writing of either the music or the lyrics of "Across the Universe." It was Lennon's composition, and, in an interview with Rolling Stone in 1970, he called it "one of the best lyrics I've written."

That is certainly saying something when you think of the songs he had written — and had yet to write — when he spoke to Rolling Stone.

I don't know if I think it is the best song Lennon ever wrote — but it was definitely one of his best.

In that interview, Lennon also said he preferred his songs "that stand as words, without melody. They don't have to have any melody, like a poem, you can read them."

You could certainly read the words to "Across the Universe," but it probably helped if you brought a certain amount of spirituality to the recitation as well.

Saturday, December 08, 2012

Imagine ...



Today is the 32nd anniversary of the shooting of John Lennon.

I always have this feeling of great sadness on this day. Every year. As soon as I remember that it is the anniversary, I remember that day. It was probably the most personal moment of my college days. It was certainly the most memorable. To this day, I can remember almost every detail of that day with a clarity I cannot achieve with almost any other day in my life — even one as recent as yesterday.

(The sole exception to that would be the day my mother died, but that is another story.)

I've grown used to that, but I wasn't prepared for the realization that, on this day a mere eight years from now, John Lennon will have been dead as long as he was alive. Sean, the son Lennon and Yoko Ono had together and about whom Lennon sang on his last album before his death, will be 45 — five years older than his father was when he died.

I still find it stunning when I think of all that Lennon accomplished in his 40 years — and all he could have accomplished had he lived.

I have always felt that was the great tragedy — all the contributions to art and music and social thought that Lennon could have and almost certainly would have made in the 1980s and beyond but were lost on that December night in New York 32 years ago.

My memory is of a melancholy Christmas that year. All my thoughts were overshadowed by the shooting of John Lennon. The Beatles, you see, played the music of my childhood. I cannot remember a time when I did not know songs like "A Hard Day's Night" or "She Loves You" — they were played so frequently on the radio when I was little.

Losing the first Beatle was a traumatic experience.

It wasn't any easier some 20 years later when George Harrison died, but at least there was some advance warning that allowed Harrison's fans to prepare themselves. He had been sick for awhile.

But Lennon's death was entirely unexpected, a real shock.

Imagine what might have been.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

When Elvis Died



Most of the time, it is my policy to write in my blogs about anniversaries that end in a five or a zero.

Nevertheless, I always write about the anniversary of Elvis Presley's death. Every year.

I'm not sure why that is so — except for the obvious reason, that Elvis truly is one of the undisputed superstars of rock 'n' roll. Even now, more than three decades after his death.

And that is clearly the case this week as his fans are gathering in Memphis to commemorate this milestone 35th anniversary of his death.

The Washington Post reports that Presley's ex, Priscilla, and their daughter, Lisa Marie, unexpectedly joined fans at the Graceland mansion for a candlelight vigil on the eve of the anniversary.

Elvis' heyday was really before my time, but his presence was constant when I was growing up, overshadowing everything else even if Elvis wasn't pushing a new record at the time. Bob Dylan, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones — along with others — took over the weekly top spot in record sales, but Elvis was always there, always the standard against which others were judged.

No one — except perhaps those closest to him who knew of his dependence on drugs — could have expected him to die at the age of 42.

When he died on this day in 1977, the outpouring of grief I witnessed was unlike anything I had ever seen and was really matched by only a few celebrities since — John Lennon, Princess Diana, Michael Jackson.

(It could truthfully be said, though, that John Lennon, Princess Diana and Michael Jackson died due to the actions of others — whereas Elvis brought about his own death. It almost certainly wasn't intentional, but it is an important distinction between Elvis and those other three.)

In many ways, the grieving never stopped. Maybe it was a sense of unfulfilled potential — even though Elvis had a couple of decades to make his mark whereas people like Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin had only a handful of years.

There are probably people out there who make their livings impersonating Morrison, Hendrix and Joplin — but there are many, many more who impersonate Elvis and make pretty good livings at it, too.

I have often wondered, in fact, if many of those "Elvis sightings" — you know, reports of seeing Elvis in convenience stores and walking along roads — were not hallucinations but rather sightings of Elvis impersonators.

The real thing, of course, is always with us in recordings and movies — and you can see the King in some of his better movies today on Turner Classic Movies.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Sir Paul Turns 70



Paul McCartney is 70 years old today, which seems incredible to me.

I don't remember much about the early days of global Beatlemania, but I do recall that McCartney was generally regarded as the attractive Beatle.

The other Beatles had their devotees, of course, but the impression I got was that most of the young women of that time had serious crushes on Paul.

I never really understood that. Paul wasn't the youngest of the Beatles (that was George Harrison) or the wittiest of the Beatles (as far as I was concerned, that was John Lennon). Maybe there was a perception that he looked more boyish than the others — but, as far as I was concerned, they all looked boyish when they burst onto the scene.

There was a good reason for that, too. They were all in their 20s.

McCartney always had a knack for writing catchy tunes — just count all the hit tunes he wrote — and there is something to be said for longevity. Lennon died at the age of 40 (he was murdered), and Harrison died of cancer when he was 58. McCartney has avoided either fate — thus far — but I'll be darned if he doesn't still look a bit boyish.

He doesn't look as boyish as he did when, in his early 50s, he appeared on Saturday Night Live and was interviewed by Chris Farley.

That's been nearly 20 years ago, and it is the first thing that comes to my mind now when I think of McCartney.

In the skit, Farley played a rather clumsy TV host who was interviewing McCartney and asking him questions like "Remember when you were with the Beatles? That was awesome!"

Farley kept chastising himself after every question, and McCartney constantly reassured him that "You're doing great."

(Perhaps my favorite part of that interview was when Farley asked McCartney about the rumor that the phrase "Paul is dead" could be heard if a Beatles record was played backward. "That was a hoax, right?" Farley asked.

(And McCartney replied, "Yeah, I wasn't really dead.")

But what started out as a lame interview (for comic purposes, of course) gained some redemption at the end when Farley asked McCartney, "Remember when you were in the Beatles? And you did that album Abbey Road, and at the very end of the song, it goes, 'And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make?' Is that true?"

McCartney replied, "In my experience, it is. I find, the more you give, the more you get."

Farley turned to the camera and mouthed the word, "AWESOME!"

And I would agree with that.

Monday, August 29, 2011

The Beatles' Last Dance



It probably goes without saying that 1966 was a hectic year for the Beatles.

There was a controversy that summer when a compilation album of Beatles songs that was prepared for the American market had a disturbing cover — with the Beatles dressed in butchers' smocks and surrounded by raw meat and dismembered dolls.

The album cover was quickly replaced by a new one that had all the same tracks but wasn't nearly as graphic.

Another controversy had been something of a ticking time bomb. John Lennon had given an interview in the spring in which he remarked that the Beatles were more popular than Jesus.

The remark didn't make much of a stir in England, but it sparked a firestorm in the United States — literally. When the statement was published in a fan magazine called Datebook, religious groups held Beatles record burnings in protest.

The quote was published around the time the group released its "Revolver" album, which is still recognized as one of the greatest albums of all time, but, in those days, promoters were anxious about such negative publicity, and Lennon held a press conference to apologize for the comment.

The Beatles also encountered some controversy that summer in the Philippines. They didn't mean to do it, but they insulted first lady Imelda Marcos by not attending a breakfast reception, creating an incident that led to some rioting.

Understandably, I guess, by the time they got to San Francisco on this date, they were all burned out on the concert thing.

So the show they gave in Candlestick Park on this night 45 years ago was their last public appearance together — with the noteworthy exception, I suppose, of their rooftop concert in London that was forever captured in their farewell movie "Let It Be."

I guess you could distinguish between the two in many ways, but the most obvious would be that the Candlestick Park show was in front of a paying audience while the one on the roof of Apple Studios was free.

Liberated from the sense of obligation that compelled them to engage in promotional tours, the Beatles explored sounds and styles in the studio that they couldn't re–create in concert. But it resulted in their most groundbreaking recorded achievements — "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band," "Abbey Road," "Magical Mystery Tour," "The White Album" and "Let It Be."

It seems likely that, if they had continued touring in 1967, 1968 and 1969, they might not have been as creative as they were. It is even possible they would not have remained together as long as they did.

Thus, the concert that took place 45 years ago tonight can be viewed as not so much an ending as a beginning, a transition — a bridge, if you will — to the final and most abundant phase of the cultural phenomenon that was Beatlemania.

Friday, August 05, 2011

Locked and Loaded



To me, it seems as if the Beatles have always been around.

I cannot recall a time when I did not know the words of their earliest hits — and let's be honest about this, the words from some of those early songs were pretty simple.

(I mean, come on — "She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah ...?")

As far as I was concerned, the Beatles had always been part of the musical landscape. There had never been a time when they had not existed, and there would never be a time when they would not exist.

That was not the way it really was, of course. The Beatles were a phenomenon, forever a part of the fabric of the 1960s. The individual members went their separate ways in 1970 and enjoyed varying degrees of success on their own — but they never scaled the heights as individuals that they had mastered as a group.

Obviously, there was a time when the Beatles did not exist. But I'm still enough of a fan to say that I do believe they — or, at least, their music — will live forever.

Be that as it may ...

Forty–five years ago, it could be argued that the Beatles were more popular than anything or anyone else in recorded history.

In fact, it was.

In March 1966, John Lennon told The Evening Standard of London that the Beatles were more popular than Jesus, kicking off a series of demonstrations and record burnings by irate religious groups in the American South.

A little more than five months later, Lennon held a press conference in Chicago to apologize for the remarks.
"I suppose if I had said television was more popular than Jesus, I would have gotten away with it. I'm sorry I opened my mouth. I'm not anti–God, anti–Christ or anti–religion. I was not knocking it. ... I was not saying we are greater or better."

John Lennon
Aug. 11, 1966

A few days before that press conference, the Beatles released the album that is considered the third–greatest of all time by Rolling Stone — "Revolver."

George Harrison, Rolling Stone observed, said that he saw little if any difference between "Revolver" and the album that came before, "Rubber Soul."

"[T]hey could be Volume 1 and Volume 2," he said.

And, in a way, I think he was right about that.

They were different records, of course. But they were both part of what I have come to regard as the Beatles' middle period. They had progressed past their breakthrough phase, when the emphasis was on catchy popular tunes, and were evolving into serious artists who sought to say something meaningful and lasting in their music and lyrics.

I guess I have always seen "Rubber Soul" and "Revolver" as opposite sides of the same coin. Like its predecessors, "Rubber Soul" was heavy on the love songs, but there was more maturity in the lyrics. It was clearly influenced by what was called "folk rock" at the time.

The music of "Revolver" had a harder edge. Its themes were darker, but the lyrics showed the same sense of insight.

The Beatles had moved beyond "Please Please Me," but they had not yet reached "Sgt. Pepper" in their musical evolution.

They were betwixt and between, occupying a musical Middle Earth, with George Harrison having a greater influence on the music than ever.

For example, "Taxman," my favorite song to play each April 15, appeared on "Revolver" — but that was perhaps the most traditional of the songs on that album.

Most of the rest of it was experimental in one way or another — instrumentation, lyrics, subject matter in general. As Stephen Thomas Erlewine wrote for AllMusic.com, "[a]ll the rules fell by the wayside."

Really, what else could one say about an album that contained songs like "She Said She Said" (rarely had popular music devotees been exposed to lyrics as dark as "She said/I know what it's like to be dead/I know what it is to be sad ...") or sounds like Indian sitars or general studio experimentation?

That would be normal for the Beatles in the years ahead, but it was a departure from anything they had done previously — even "Rubber Soul" was more acoustic than "Revolver," which introduced listeners to all kinds of unfamiliar, even unsettling, sounds.

In their pioneering way, the Beatles were leading popular music into the future.