Inspired by The Beatles - "No. 1 Party Anthem"

Alex Turner has long been primed for a John Lennon moment. If you're unaware, Turner is the hyper-talented frontman of the British guitar-rock combo Arctic Monkeys, who earlier this month dropped their fifth LP, AM. Midway through this ace record, after a run of dark, moody, swaggering cuts, Turner switches gears and goes into full-on Lennon mode with "No. 1 Party Anthem". It's a big ballad in the vein of, say, "Mind Games" or John's "Angel Baby" cover. It's layered, echoey, and shimmering, with a heavy gait and slow swoop. Producer James Ford applies a widescreen treatment to what is really a modest construction. Call it the "Phil Spector effect", something John knew all about.

The rest matches up too. Typical of Turner, the lyric - which wryly describes the hesitations of an after-hours romeo - boasts sharply drawn narration and clever turns-of-phrase. Money line: "It's not like I'm falling in love / I just want you to do me no good / And you look like you could." Calls to mind one of John's Rubber Soul flames, no? And when you next listen to the song, close your eyes and imagine Lennon delivering the lead. From the verses to the chorus to dazzling bridge ("The look of love" / "The rush of blood..."), the shoe fits impeccably.

Here's to hoping that Turner revisits this generous well in the near future.

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The "God" trilogy

"God," the penultimate track on John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band, is a powerful pop sermon of unbelief and rejection. It's so powerful, in fact, that it inspired two sequels - one by U2 and the other by Larry Norman, a pioneer of the Christian rock genre. I first heard U2's "God Part II" a few weeks ago while listening to Rattle and Hum. Intrigued, I read up on the song and then came across this article, which explores the relationship between the three parts. Their conflicting theological perspectives make for a compelling interplay. I especially like Bono's lyric, which addresses the inner discord that holds sway in the life of a sinner.

Excerpts:

U2's music often includes religious content, but it is a highly creative, restless and wondering relationship with religious mysteries. They look for the baby Jesus under the trash and would take bread and wine if there were a church they could receive in, but their articulation of sacred themes is often playful and always incomplete, as if they never quite find what they are looking for.

. . .

Larry Norman's "God Part III" does not include the same subtlety or affection for Lennon we find in Bono's lyrics. Norman begins his song not with a statement about religion, like Lennon and U2, but instead with the words "i don't believe in beatles, i don't believe in rock," taking the first phrase directly from Lennon's song. The liner notes to Norman's Stranded in Babylon describe "God Part III" as a "response to John's song," which suggests something far less affectionate than U2's note that their song is "for John Lennon." Unlike U2's generous affirmation of the rightness and truth of Lennon's emphasis on love, Norman's direct confrontation with Lennon, the Beatles and rock more generally suggests there is no truth to be found in music; "you can easily hit number one with a bullet," he says, "and totally miss the heart." Bono disagrees, finding truth in Lennon, even if he is misguided in certain particulars.

The most Beatles-esque Beach Boys song?

The title surely belongs to "Girl Don't Tell Me," a Brian-penned, Carl-sung track from Summer Days (And Summer Nights!!). It's been said that Brian actually wrote the song for The Beatles, but I'm not sure this has been verified. Either way, in the guitar breaks and the escalating vocal parts, it quickly calls to mind "Ticket to Ride." The lyric too is very Lennon-esque, with the male lead bemoaning the lies of his ex-crush and vowing to forget her. Underrated song.

For more posts on The Beatles and the Beach Boys, go here.

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Inspired by The Beatles

There are days - many days, in fact - when "I Am the Walrus" is my favorite Beatles song. It doesn't carry the emotional weight of, say, "Eleanor Rigby" or "Hey Jude," and it doesn't boast the collaborative genius of "A Day in the Life," but it does deliver an experience that sets it apart. Between the kooky lyric, the bustling swirl of layered orchestration, and the triumphant circus-procession flow, "I Am the Walrus" imparts a special kind of satisfaction: you know you're listening to a song that is so different from everything that came before it and couldn't possibly be matched by anything that came after it. Many artists have likely tried, but I'm certain - without even being able to cite examples - that they all failed. The better course of action is to borrow from it and make it obvious you're doing so, the end result being a respectful homage. That's close to my take on the song below: "Tropicana" by Ratatat. Cool track, cool band.

Enjoy:

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"Genius is pain!"

Yesterday, I defended John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band from the charge of being akin to "the world's most privileged man having a tantrum." I hope I didn't give the impression that I think the album is above criticism or that John's abrasive, self-serious manner on it (or elsewhere, for that matter) doesn't present some challenges. In fact, I agree with the Pitchfork reviewer's implied view that JL/POB was worthy of a spoof and that National Lampoon's "Magical Misery Tour" utterly nailed it. Listen for yourself below. (Caution: It's NSFW.) The vocal is a serviceable Lennon impersonation, but the testy piano line fits the bill quite well, and the lyrics work expertly because they were in fact pilfered from John's famously frank 1970 interview with Rolling Stone, which put on full display his unwieldy, contradictory self. Yes, John could be a monstrous asshole.

Here's "Magical Misery Tour." See if you can detect, in the melody, echoes of "I'm Losing You," a song of John's that came out a decade later.


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A latter-day "Hey Jude" ?

If a successor to "Hey Jude" exists, it may be "Tender" by Blur. Consider the similarities. Both are long, comforting, heartfelt ballads that swell into pop-hymns; both achieve grand uplift while addressing emotional pain; both are carried by singalong lyrics; and, along the same lines, both are built to be performed as a communal experience, band and audience becoming one. Have a listen below. It's one of Blur's finest songs.



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What's the most Beatlesque Bowie song?

It's a question that randomly popped into my head this evening. Not being an expert on Bowie's sizable and varied discography, I couldn't think of many songs to suggest as possible answers. In fact, only one came to mind: "Oh! You Pretty Things." Off 1971's Hunky Dory, it's a very White Album-y (and terrific) track, perhaps best described as some combination, musically, of "Martha My Dear" and "Cry Baby Cry." Have a listen.

"Oh! You Pretty Things"


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I'll pursue this question more in the coming weeks.

Sidebar: Is the use of "Oh" and a mid-title exclamation point ("Oh! You Pretty Things") a nod to The Beatles' "Oh! Darling"?

Inspired by The Beatles - "Never as Tired as When I'm Waking Up"

Off LCD Soundsystem's eponymous debut, "Never as Tired as When I'm Waking Up" plays very much like the meeting point of "Dear Prudence" and "I'm So Tired," both of which appear on The White Album and belong to John. The song's progression, chorus, and concluding build-up all point to "Prudence," while its phlegmatic atmosphere and salty subject matter seem the heirs of "Tired." At various moments in his career, James Murphy, the man behind LCD Soundsystem, has shown himself to be adept at John Lennon mode. On this song, he nails it.

"Never as Tired as When I'm Waking Up"


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Inspired by The Beatles

Standard disclaimer: I'm not suggesting that the song below was explicitly inspired by The Beatles. Rather, in one way or another, it simply has a Beatles feel to it. End of disclaimer.

The reach of The Beatles' influence is obviously extensive, and in this case it seems to have worked its way into the output of a grunge-rock act. Pearl Jam, the band in question, released "All Those Yesterdays," the song in question, as the concluding track on their 1998 album, Yield. Sonically retro and structurally meandering, "Yesterdays" is a peculiar song. More to the point, there's something about the combination of its mood and pace and Eddie Vedder's tempered vocal and the unexpected brass section that calls to mind the weirdness of The White Album. If you threw together various elements of, say, "Dear Prudence," "Happiness Is a Warm Gun," and "I'm So Tired," you might get a song in the neighborhood of this one. Finally, how about the name itself? "All Those Yesterdays." Doesn't it sound like a song that John or George might have written? George in fact came close with "All Those Years Ago" (a tribute to the fallen Lennon), and John captured a somewhat similar sentiment with "In My Life." Regardless, it's a poignant combination of words and a meaty title for a memorable (and underrated) song.

Video:


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Inspired by The Beatles - "Karma Police"

I'm going to immediately qualify the title of this post and note that, in writing "Karma Police," Thom Yorke and the rest of Radiohead weren't necessarily inspired by The Beatles as much as they were drawn to borrow from them. Specifically, it's in the chord progression of the song's piano and acoustic guitar that you can hear The Beatles playing "Sexy Sadie," John's veiled rebuke of the Maharishi from side three of The White Album. The connection is pretty obvious. But whereas "Sexy Sadie" has a lighter feel to it, "Karma Police" is dark and uncertain, with an only somewhat restrained sense of menace at its core. It's an absorbing and perhaps perfect song, one of a half-dozen or so highlights from Radiohead's 1997 classic OK Computer.

And just because I've recently been writing about Smokey Robinson's heavy influence on John, I want to direct you to what Wikipedia has to say about some of the lyrics from "Sexy Sadie:" In a 1969 interview, Lennon stated one of his favourite songs was "I've Been Good To You" by Smokey Robinson & The Miracles. The Miracles song begins with the line Look what you've done / You made a fool out of someone, compared to Sexy Sadie's What have you done? / You made a fool of everyone.

We've now established a link, however indirect, between Smokey Robinson and Radiohead. Rad.

"Something About the Beatles"

It's by a longtime British pop outfit called the Korgis. Verdict: insubstantial but charming.



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Inspired by the Beatles - "Sowing the Seeds of Love"

Writing for the New York Times in February of 1990, Stephen Holden offered this take on Tears for Fears' 1989 single, "Sowing the Seeds of Love:"

The song, which lovingly imitates the treadmill rhythms, trumpet-laced textures and exhortatory mood of ''Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band,'' updates the Beatles' utopian sentiments to the present by proclaiming ''an end to need and the politics of greed with love.'' At the same time time it re-creates the childlike playfulness of late 1960's pop psychedelia by praising sunflowers and inventing catchy variations of vintage slogans. ''Kick out the style -bring back the jam!'' the lyric exclaims.

"Sowing the Seeds of Love" does all of the things that Holden attributes to it: it's pure Beatles pastiche. And he could have elaborated further by going into specific details. For instance, the stuttering drum line that opens the song brings to mind some of Ringo's handiwork, in particular certain sections of "A Day in the Life;" one of the brass parts recalls Alan Civil's expert playing of the French horn on "For No One;" and finally (this list is by no means exhaustive, to be sure), the backup vocal track on the chorus is exactly the kind of psych-pop maneuver that The Beatles often pulled.

Truth be told, there are few details in the song that don't seem like Beatles homage. The intent is unmistakable. This is not to suggest, though, that it's a great song. Unlike other well-known TFF releases - "Head over Heels" and "Mad World," foremostly - "Sowing the Seeds of Love" hasn't aged well, which maybe shouldn't be surprising considering that its inspiration, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, also doesn't sound as fresh and spirited as it likely once did. But the issue of that album's inflated status is contentious and will be left for another day. What shouldn't be contentious is how strongly Pepper influenced Tears for Fears on this outing.



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Inspired by the Beatles - "Sonnet"

Though overshadowed by the hugely successful "Bittersweet Symphony," "Sonnet" might be the Verve's finest song, and a good deal of its appeal probably owes to the influence of the Beatles. Like a handful of Fab songs, "Sonnet" is an aching ballad, more simple than not, that still manages to be tuneful and, in several ways, quite measured. Its restraint is the key. It glides along with purpose and command, yet the pace is almost understated. In similar fashion and reminiscent of a Lennon vocal, Richard Ashcroft keeps his grief in check and doesn't let it unravel into weepy self-pity. He's battered, yes, and he doesn't try to hide it, but the way he expresses his pain is far more reserved than might be expected. It's a sense of sober world-weariness that comes through most vividly, and this again recalls that same Beatle. Because John is so present in Ashcroft's direct and honest vocal, it seems he was able to teach his Britpop descendant about the power of guarded emotions. And that melody? Gorgeous.



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The Harrison-Tweedy connection

While reading through a couple reviews of Wilco's new album (entitled Wilco (The Album)), I noticed several mentions of George as an influence on the band's current sound. Over their career, particularly on Summerteeth, Wilco has drawn from The Beatles' body of work, sometimes with stirring results. That they would return to the well is not at all surprising. In this case, the well is specifically George's output as a solo artist. Just listen to "You Never Know" for instant confirmation. It's a song of warmth, sunlight, and daydream ease that basically plays like a tribute to "My Sweet Lord." The vibe, the pace, the crisp acoustic guitar at the center, the "ooo"-ing and "aaah"-ing backup vocals, and the occasional guitar effects (slide?) all reveal an unmissable influence. It's so unmissable, in fact, that Wilco must have intended the song as a celebratory love-note to some of those late greats who still mean so much to the present. George would seem to fit the bill.

"You Never Know"


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Inspired by The Beatles

"Beetlebum," the opener on Blur's self-titled fifth album. I won't lay out any sort of detailed comparison between this '90s classic and the various Fab songs that it might call to mind. I tried to, actually, and it proved a surprising struggle. Surprising because "Beetlebum" contains clear artistic nods to The Beatles, most notably in the chorus. In fact, all you need to hear is Damon Albarn's bracing chorus-intro ("And when she lets me slip away") and the connection rushes into focus. It's a supremely Lennon-esque vocal (think "Don't Let Me Down"). And overall, the song stands as one of Blur's finest.

Official video:


From a show the reunited Blur recently put on:


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Inspired by the Beatles

"Lily (My One and Only)" off the Smashing Pumpkins' 1995 double-disc Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. It's easy to imagine Paul comfortably filling in for Billy Corgan here. The song combines lush, tunefully retro sonics with a lyric about helpless affection and its hazards ("But an officer is knocking at my door"). From the piano flourishes and theatrical drum line to the overly tender sentiments, it's all romance with an ironic core, a whimsical ballad that uses its narrator's lovelorn ways to elicit smiles, not tears. Paul himself was both a romantic and a jester, and he excelled at bringing these qualities together. He also had a passion for baroque pop (see, among others, "When I'm Sixty-Four," "Martha My Dear," and "Maxwell's Silver Hammer"), a genre that would certainly include the colorful and saccharine likes of "Lily (My One and Only)."



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Blur: reunited, touring, and releasing albums (sort of)

One of the finest Brit-pop bands of the '90s, and one that certainly drew inspiration from The Beatles, is unleashing itself once again.

Inspired by the Beatles - "Married with Children"

It's the closing track on Oasis' classic debut, Definitely Maybe. The song's simple and warmly tuneful sonics, comprised of only two guitars, seems Paul-inspired (though he may have added a couple baroque touches) while its cynical, snarky, and possibly women-loathing lyric ("I hate the books you read/ And all your friends/ Your music's shite/ It keeps me up all night") is John through and through. I suppose I could have just as easily written a post entitled "Inspired by The Beatles: the entire Oasis catalogue." But a narrower scope is more advisable, I think.



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Inspired by The Beatles

I'm going to start doing occasional posts focused on songs that strongly bear the Beatles' influence. They're great in number and many are superb tunes in their own right. They don't need to be directly linked to one specific song (like the Vines' "Factory" which strongly smacks of "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" by way of Nirvana on a mediocre day). Some might be more traceable to an era of the Beatles or a certain album. "White Album pop" isn't an atypical phrase to come across in a music review (though one must ask how it's possible to isolate the essence of that wild madhouse of a record). Others might seem inspired by one of the Beatles in particular (Paul with his whimsical and often precious style that John derided as "granny-music" or George with his Eastern-influenced work, etc, etc). As is obvious, the Beatles cast an immensely large shadow over all of pop music.

The first entry is Franz Ferdinand's "Eleanor Put Your Boots On" from their excellent 2005 album You Could Have It So Much Better. It's a lilting, winsome, and lightly melancholic ballad that is Paul McCartney through and through. And I promise that the connection is not so spurious as to be based solely on the fact that Macca wrote "Eleanor Rigby."

Enjoy Franz. They rule.



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