Happy Friday from Phil!

The legendary producer and mad man wishes you a safe and sane weekend.

(I stole the image from Matt Blick's superb Beatles Songwriting Academy blog. Do check it out.)

Happy Friday from Paul!

(Source: SB Nation)

Why is Paul wearing a Texas Tech jersey? It's a reasonable question. The most likely explanation is that he sprung for one while visiting Lubbock, TX to honor Buddy Holly. Lubbock is both home to Texas Tech and Holly's place of birth. So, a red jersey, green pants, brown loafers and white socks... what a foxy ensemble. If it isn't the apex of early '90s dad-rock fashion, I haven't a clue what is.

Weekend reading

From the A.V. Club: "Worst lyrical rhymes in popular music"

Excerpt:
One of my favorite Beatles solo songs is Ringo Starr’s “It Don’t Come Easy,” probably because it was allegedly written by George Harrison. I love the backup singers and the saxophone, and I can generally get behind the song’s message. (It was my theme song when I was filling out college applications.) However, one verse has such lazy, lame rhymes that it makes me almost embarrassed to like it: “Got to pay your dues if you wanna sing the blues / And you know it don’t come easy / You don’t have to shout or leap about / You can even play them easy.” First, George/Ringo rhymed “easy” with itself, but that line “You don’t have to shout or leap about” is what kills me. I think it’s the mental image of a person “leaping about” that ruins the verse for me. If I think about it, I understand the intention of the lyric, but those childlike rhymes just make it sound like the song was written in about two minutes on the toilet, and it’s what keeps me from considering it a great song, as opposed to pretty good.

Friday YouTube

Via I Hate Young People:

Don't fear pop

Listen to five seconds of every pop #1 single from 1956 through 1983, ending with Men at Work's "Down Under." It's fascinating to hear the history of pop music unfold so abruptly and with such dizzying variety. To be sure though, there are spells when certain acts seem to rise above the others. I won't mention any names.

Monday YouTube

John's love for Yoko and early rock 'n' roll came together so winningly on "(Just Like) Starting Over":


(If the video is removed, go here.)

The Boss, "When I'm Sixty-Four," etc.

I'm a big fan of Bruce Springsteen, but it wasn't until recently that I became well-acquainted with his 1980 double album, The River. In my view, it's among his best. One of my favorite tracks is "Hungry Heart,” which I call attention to because, the first time I heard it, I immediately thought of "When I'm Sixty-Four." It's all in the vocal. When the Boss enters on "Hungry Heart," it doesn't sound quite right. That’s because his voice was sped up for the recording, which resulted in a higher pitch and an overall younger-sounding vocal. The parallels to "When I'm Sixty-Forty" are obvious: Paul had the same modification done to his voice, with the same result.

The song's connection to The Beatles doesn't end there. Wikipedia: "On the day of his murder in December 1980, John Lennon said he thought 'Hungry Heart' was 'a great record' and even compared it to his single '(Just Like) Starting Over.'"

Give it a listen:


(If the video is removed, go here.)

More on "Under My Thumb" and "Run for Your Life"

In this post from last Saturday, I bestowed the honor of "My favorite song at the moment" on "Under My Thumb" by the Rolling Stones. I then briefly compared it to "Run for Your Life," the idea being that both paint crude pictures of female subjugation and both are hard-to-resist ear-pleasers. What a frustrating combination, no? Why did the Stones and The Beatles have to wrap such insulting imagery in sonics so agreeable? They could've made it much easier for some of us by simply not doing one part of their job that well. Instead, we're forced to endure Mick Jagger's sneers of "Under my thumb/The squirmin' dog who's just had her day" with a delectable Motown groove simultaneously at work. And regarding "Run for Your Life," it's a challenge not getting caught up in the song's "addictive energy" even as John spews hateful lines like, "Baby I'm determined/And I'd rather see you dead." Pop music shouldn't be all about easy, uncomplicated rewards, but these two songs present difficulties of an especially vexing variety. Or that's how it might be for some people, anyway. As an avowed fan of both "Under My Thumb" and "Run for Your Life," I've evidently moved beyond this moral dilemma.

Side-note: I wonder which is the more offensive song. Jagger seems to find a very unhealthy sort of pleasure - one deviously playful - in belittling his squeeze, calling her a "Siamese cat of a girl" and "the sweetest, hmmm, pet in the world." On the other hand, John is possessed by something close to (if not actually) murderous intent, which I think puts "Run for Your Life" over the top. In John's defense, at least he owns up to being "a wicked guy" who "was born with a jealous mind." Ultimately though, that doesn't wash away any of the song's sins.

My favorite song at the moment

Should I be ashamed to confess that it's "Under My Thumb" by the Rolling Stones? What a wicked treat it is, much like John's "Run for Your Life."

"Under My Thumb"


(If the video is removed, go here.)

"Doctor Robert," BSG, etc.

The existence of this blog would seem to illustrate that The Beatles are of deep fascination to me. Indeed they are. And because this is the case, I'm always on the lookout for references or connections to The Beatles in other interests of mine. Earlier this evening, I encountered one. Yes, I finally found a link, however trivial, between the Fab Four and Battlestar Galactica, the epic sci-fi TV series that has been consuming my spare hours for the last few months. In an (expendable) episode from season three called "The Woman King," there's a doctor, Michael Robert, who isn't exactly caring for his patients as he should. Driven by bigoted views, he's actually killing some of them. In other words, this Doctor Robert doesn't belong to the mainstream of his profession. Sound familiar? "Take a drink from his special cup, Doctor Robert."

Also, it was a minor bonus that the title of the subsequent episode was "A Day in the Life."

A brief comment on "Imagine"

I was on the Beatles Bible website earlier this week and noticed that, among its "latest posts," there's one (partly) entitled, "'And the world will be as one.'" Upon seeing this, my immediate reaction was to wonder if a mistake had been made. I obviously knew the line was a reference to "Imagine." Yet when I played the song in my head, I kept hearing, "And the world will live (not "be") as one." I then checked the full lyric on a website and found that (as many but myself already know) both lines are part of the song; the one I suspected of being incorrect comes in the middle, while the other one comes at the very end. The question that arises from this is why would John have cared to make that distinction with such a minor variation. Is there an important difference between the two? I would say no. In this particular case, "be" and "live" seem to convey the same meaning. So perhaps there's nothing to it. I'm guessing that the line which contains "live" has stuck with me because it closes the song, thereby achieving a more lasting effect.

A good trivia question?

I may have stumbled upon one late last week as I was writing the haiku for "Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!." You'll notice a rather uncommon detail in the song's title: an exclamation point. This got me thinking about other Beatles songs that have one in their title. The makings of a decent trivia question, no? After some research, I found that, in addition to "Kite!," the other Beatles originals that meet this qualification are "Help!" and "Oh! Darling," the latter of which comes with the added curiosity of having the exclamation point split the two words in its name. The non-originals are "Kansas City/Hey-Hey-Hey-Hey!" and "Ooh! My Soul."

Quote of the day

"So what I associate most with The Beatles is the smell of girls' urine."

- Bob Geldof, recalling the many young gals who wet themselves at Beatles concerts.

Cut off

As I've noted several times, I was on vacation for much of the past two weeks. During that span, I found myself more or less cut off from all things Beatles. No news updates, no random bits of history, and no music. Not a single note of The Beatles' art passed through my ears. And I was even road tripping, an enterprise that naturally leads to a surfeit of music intake. My companions and I did consume a hefty amount of tunes, much of it indie rock and none of it The Beatles. It's not that we didn't have a few of their albums at our disposal; we just chose to not partake.

And you know what? It didn't feel off or abnormal or leave me feverishly unsated. I didn't feel as though the regular order of my life had been radically upended. There was never a sense that I had been separated from something critical to my well-being. Not even close, in fact. And this I take comfort in. As should be apparent, I'm an ardent Beatles fan; I'm confident in saying that I will always cherish their music and their legacy. But I don't hesitate to qualify that devotion. It's simply the case that I don't need to be in constant contact with their music. I don't need that presence, if you will, on a daily basis. My fan-hood is rooted in an abiding appreciation of the group, not a fixation.

Is this not a healthy approach? I certainly feel it is. I think it's important for me, as an avowed Beatles diehard, to always stay cognizant of the fact that the world of pop music doesn't revolve around four lads from Liverpool. The Beatles cast such an imposing shadow that this truth can easily become shrouded. But it still should be an obvious truth. There are, indeed, numerous other bands that bring me tremendous pleasure, and this was amply borne out on the road trip.

Following the trip, I had a moment that crystallized many of the preceding thoughts. I was driving on some rural back-roads of the Midwest en route to my late grandfather's gravesite. I was behind the wheel of my dad's car and, thus, was listening to his CDs. Guess which band I spent the most time with? The Rolling Stones, famously the chief rivals of The Beatles in the 1960s. A week and a half had passed without the latter, and there I was rocking out to the former, enjoying the dickens out of them and musing silently about how, yes, The Stones made music that was dark and sinister and violent in ways that The Beatles rarely attempted and perhaps weren't equipped for. Yes, The Stones are among The Greats.

To be honest, I was pleased when these thoughts came to mind. For in those moments, I felt more comfortable than ever as a Beatles fan. These thoughts (and the trip as a whole) reminded me that fan-hood need not be obsession and profound appreciation need not be preoccupation. I can deeply love The Beatles and, at the same time, occasionally prefer a week's worth of Vampire Weekend, Radiohead, and The Strokes to Rubber Soul and Abbey Road. I know those albums will always welcome me back.

Quote of the day

"I declare that the Beatles are mutants. Prototypes of evolutionary agents sent by God, endowed with a mysterious power to create a new human species, a young race of laughing freemen."

- Timothy Leary

"Rock 'n' roll best sung in American accents"

A Twitter friend tweeted about this earlier in the day. It's an interesting notion.

Excerpt:
According to researcher Andy Gibson, the American voice is easier to sing with and is so commonplace that it should be called the "pop music accent" instead.

Mr Gibson, of the Auckland University of Technology, made the claim after tests on New Zealand singers.

He found that despite speaking with distinct Kiwi accents, they would automatically sing the same words just like true Americans.

This is because singing in a local accent would sound funny and because American rounding off of words makes it easier to sing them.

Sunday Beatles infographic

Here are 32 of The Beatles' hairstyles, conveniently arranged by band member and year.

Super random

At the outset of "Fine Line," the superb opening track on Chaos and Creation in the Backyard, Paul sings, "There is a fine line/Between recklessness and courage." Then, to start the second verse, he sings, "There is a long way/Between chaos and creation." Here's my thought: How cool would it have been had he sort of merged the two parts and, at some point, sang, "There is a fine line/Between chaos and creation." Is that not artful and even a bit profound? It could refer to, maybe, the process of revolution or the "creative destruction" inherent to capitalism. Contrast-driven juxtapositions that are turned on their head and used to point out subtle similarities can make for exceptional art.

"Annus Mirabilis"

A poem by Philip Larkin:

Sexual intercourse began
In nineteen sixty-three
(which was rather late for me) -
Between the end of the "Chatterley" ban
And the Beatles' first LP.

Up to then there'd only been
A sort of bargaining,
A wrangle for the ring,
A shame that started at sixteen
And spread to everything.

Then all at once the quarrel sank:
Everyone felt the same,
And every life became
A brilliant breaking of the bank,
A quite unlosable game.

So life was never better than
In nineteen sixty-three
(Though just too late for me) -
Between the end of the "Chatterley" ban
And the Beatles' first LP.

"She Loves You, Man"

The other day, a friend reminded me of the great SNL skit from the early '80s in which Eddie Murphy plays Clarence Walker, a man who claims to have been the fifth Beatle.