Monday reads

- On the cultural etymology of "gear".

- "10 musicians who saw the Beatles standing there."

Fantastic line from Billy Joel: "And when I saw four guys who didn't look like they'd come out of the Hollywood star mill, who played their own songs and instruments, and especially because you could see this look in John Lennon's face -- and he looked like he was always saying: 'F--- you!' -- I said: 'I know these guys, I can relate to these guys, I am these guys.' This is what I'm going to do -- play in a rock band'."

- USA Today ranks the top 12 Beatles songs. Quality effort overall. Rearrange the order a bit, swap out "The Fool on the Hill" and the Abbey Road medley for "In My Life" and "I Am the Walrus", and you're in the same ballpark as what my list would look like.

Also from USA Today: "The Great Album Debate: Is 'Pepper' The Beatles' best?" The sooner we reach the end of Pepper's reign (we're getting there, it seems), the better. Revolver belongs on top.

- Finally, here's an amusing rundown of The Beatles' "decidedly mixed" reception in America. In this case, "decidedly mixed" = hostile, scathing, impossibly condescending, savage, unsparing, and so forth.

Love songs or something else?

Around Valentine's Day, I started writing a post about The Beatles' greatest love songs, but I eventually scrapped it because of an uncertainty: I didn't know if my top picks – "In My Life" and "Two of Us" – actually qualified as love songs. Both contain affectionate sentiments that typify a conventional love song, but there are other themes at work too – themes that suggest multiple aims and multiple subject matters. Let me elaborate.

On "In My Life," John opens with a nostalgic rumination: "There are places I remember/All my life/Though some have changed." And so it goes for the rest of the first verse. John sings of places and people that have come and gone but remain meaningful to him. Nostalgia dominates the early going. It isn't until the second verse that he directly addresses someone: "But of all these friends and lovers/There is no one (who) compares with you." Here the lyric seems to be moving in a more concrete direction, but one question never gets answered: To whom is John speaking? Is it a friend or a lover? It's not clear. Even when he sings, "In my life/I love you more," the context doesn’t illuminate the precise nature of his love. John could simply be honoring a dear friend. He may love that person, but that doesn't make "In My Life" a "love song" in the familiar sense. Memory, the past, undefined but deep affection - these are the concerns of "In My Life." John himself said the song was rooted in reflections on his childhood.

"Two of Us" is perhaps a more interesting case. The lyric doesn't contain any straightforward expressions of romantic love. The word "love," in fact, is nowhere to be found. Rather, Paul paints tender and almost gauzy little scenes of togetherness - "riding nowhere," "sending postcards," "wearing raincoats" (in the sun, no less) - that seem to be drawn from real life, i.e., his relationship with Linda. And Paul has stated she was the song's primary inspiration. However, what to make of the line, "You and I have memories/Longer than/The road that stretches out ahead"? Or "You and me chasing paper/Getting nowhere"? Paul hadn't known Linda that long, and "chasing paper" calls to mind The Beatles' complicated business dealings. If not Linda, then who? John, of course. Thus, "Two of Us" operates on dual levels: it's a song of romantic love and brotherly love, paying tribute to both Linda and John. There are two sets of two. One would help to define Paul's future, while the other would soon belong to his past.

If these interpretations are accurate, I think they speak to the nimbleness and dexterity of John and Paul as songwriters. To fashion a workable and compelling lyric that expresses more than one kind of love is no easy task. "In My Life" and "Two of Us" probably aren't the only examples.

"Rubber Soul" math

... + (more) drugs = ...

Re: The Beatles and the Beach Boys

For the purposes of The Daily Beatle, my long-running Beach Boys kick will conclude with this post. Below is a rundown of basically every entry on the site that mentions the group once dubbed "America's Band."

- "There's a Place" vs. "In My Room";

- The BB's cover of "With a Little Help from My Friends";

- Another cover: "I Should Have Known Better";

- News about the original Smile being released;

- Today in music history: Pet Sounds;

- Yet another cover: "Tell Me Why";

- Marking Dennis Wilson's birthday;

- In praise of Pet Sounds;

- Brian Wilson, Rubber Soul and the '60s;

- Paul on Pet Sounds;

- Lastly, The Beatles and the Beach Boys.

"Such magical sounds"

An album that was both inspired by Rubber Soul and part of the motivation for Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band is always going to be relevant on this blog. On a personal note, this same album is among my favorites. It's one of the few collections of pop music that I consider nourishing to the soul. Indeed, I usually don't go three or four months without dipping into Pet Sounds, the Beach Boys' landmark psychedelic-pop release of 1966. I did so again last week with the intention of recording some thoughts and observations. Pet Sounds is an album one should not just know, but know intimately. It's a way of returning the favor to Brian Wilson for how revealing he is on these thirteen tracks.

A perfection-crazed auteur even at age 23 (23!) when he started the project, Brian has said that the music of Pet Sounds - marked by warm, wistful, whimsical soundscapes; the colorful and complex meeting point of Phil Spector, baroque, and found objects - is actually more personal than the lyrical content. Part of his ambition with the album was to almost make lyrics unnecessary. Using the studio as one of his exotic instruments, he wanted the music to be able to communicate on its own the outlines of his emotional existence. He dubbed it "feeling-music." This is one of the album's great triumphs: Through the sonics alone you encounter not only Brian the tortured sound architect, but also Brian the gentle dreamer, Brian the fragile soul, and Brian the earnest romantic. You could say that Pet Sounds is a musical portrait of Brian Wilson's inner life.

This portrait is fleshed out and made more immediate by the lyrics, which Brian mostly co-wrote with Tony Asher, an ad copywriter whom he barely knew before they collaborated. Asher has said he served as his counterpart's interpreter and helped give narrative life to the emotions conveyed by the music. What resulted was a moving and resonant account of human frailty. There's callow longing for adulthood ("Wouldn't It Be Nice"); strongly-implied boyish indiscretion ("You Still Believe in Me"); isolation ("I Just Wasn't Made for These Times"); and heartbreak ("Caroline, No"). All of it shows Brian, a man of deep vulnerability, struggling to retain what he considers his innocence. At times, he pines for a youth that he's doubtlessly romanticizing, and elsewhere he looks ahead to the future with both trepidation and excitement. He wants the comfort and stability of love without the inevitable complications. He may sound naive, but the spellbinding sincerity of his appeals is what matters. That voice could never tell a lie, right?

Brian's voice and those of the other Beach Boys made the band, and their vocal arrangements on Pet Sounds supply much of its beauty. The harmonies are exquisite; the way different parts weave in and out of each other - rising and falling, fading in and then dissolving - displays a beautiful kind of mathematical perfection; and the contrast between Brian's elegant higher pitch and Mike Love's nasal delivery works as well as it ever did. And then there's Carl Wilson's stirring, heaven-sent performance on "God Only Knows" (once Macca's choice for his favorite song of all time; not sure if this remains true). It was supposed to be Brian's vocal, but he eventually concluded that Carl's voice was better suited to the material. The decision, so unselfish, was handsomely rewarded.

Lastly, I can't resist highlighting some of my favorite moments from the album. There are many. I love the booming drumbeat that sets "Wouldn't It Be Nice" into motion; I love the way Brian sings "I kiss your lips when your face looks sad" on "I'm Waiting for the Day" - it's with such determined affection; I love the baritone saxophone that chugs through the end of "Sloop John B"; (And what's really happening in that song, anyway? Such a prosaic story - and the thematic outlier of the bunch - and yet so full of tension and urgency.) I love the line "I may not always love you" for what it really is: the biggest bluff in all of pop music; I love the weird instrumental break on "Here Today"; and I love everything about "Caroline, No," a song of dreamy, slow-moving heartbreak that should be a mainstream pop classic but isn't. It's the Beach Boys' "She's Leaving Home."

One hopes that Brian Wilson knows just how much Pet Sounds means to so many people. It's an album we love, and it seems to love us right back. Achieving a perfection of sound, it wasn't just a giant leap forward for the Beach Boys; it was a giant leap forward for all of pop music. Its influence is vast. Who knows: Without it, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band may never have happened, and then where would pop music be today?

*The quote in the title comes from Elton John.

More on "Run for Your Life"

Returning to the several weeks-old topic of “Run for Your Life:”

It’s interesting to consider “Run,” with its baldly misogynistic posture, in the broader context of Rubber Soul. The presence of songs like "Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)" and "Girl," both of which give depictions of presumably attractive, intelligent, or otherwise compelling women whom John has fallen for, muddies the impression of him as a thoroughgoing chauvinist. On both songs, John essentially admits he couldn't compete with the powerful charms of these females, and he comes away from the experiences frustrated, chastened, defeated. In these instances anyway, it’s clear he doesn’t see himself as inherently superior to members of the opposite sex; how could he? On "Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)," he finds himself in such an exasperated state – read: outmatched – that, according to some interpretations of the song, he burns down his counterpart’s house. On "Girl," he’s smitten with a woman who routinely mistreats him and makes a fool of him. The problem is he just can’t help himself; she’s rendered him impotent.

With all of this in mind, perhaps we can loosely read "Run for Your Life" as an outgrowth of John’s frustration. He’s been bested several times and feels he must reassert control; he does so by unleashing hateful anger on a lover he disparagingly calls “little girl.” Thus, he closes the album with an ugly kind of equilibrium achieved.

Convincing?

"Rubber Soul" ...

... in haiku form.

1) "Drive My Car"
2) "Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)"
3) "You Won't See Me"
4) "Nowhere Man"
5) "Think for Yourself"
6) "The Word"
7) "Michelle"
8) "What Goes On"
9) "Girl"
10) "I'm Looking Through You"
11) "In My Life"
12) "Wait"
13) "If I Needed Someone"
14) "Run for Your Life"

Tuesday haiku - "Run for Your Life"

John came to hate "Run":
it's a vengeful, sexist threat
against a girl's life.

Monday haiku - "If I Needed Someone"

In its guitarwork,
"Someone" calls to mind the Byrds,
whom George admired.

Sunday haiku - "Wait"

Recorded for Help!,
"Wait" wound up on Rubber Soul
and feels out of place.

Saturday haiku - "In My Life"

It's John's reflection -
a warm, heartfelt reflection -
on youth, loss, and love.

Friday haiku - "I'm Looking Through You"

"Through" shows Paul bitter:
he's smarting from girlfriend woes
and doling out blame.

Thursday haiku - "Girl"

Though playful at times,
"Girl" tells of a cruel lass
whom John can't get past.

Tuesday haiku - "What Goes On"

John wrote "What Goes On",
a country-tinged pop ditty
that went to Ringo.

The Beatles' "worst moment"

That's journalist Alan Howe's description of "Run for Your Life," a song I've been exploring of late. While I disagree with his assessment, I certainly understand where he's coming from.

Here's his full take:
A murderously sexist, viscous lyric by Lennon – words that he would forever regret – coupled with a rushed recording before taking off on tour once more to America, this is the Beatles worst moment. What’s worse is that John’s vocals are so prominent; you were really meant to hear what he was saying. And what did he say? Listen: “I’d rather see you dead little girl than to be with another man,” and “You’d 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-a little girl.” That scenario has played in murder trials across the world ever since. This is the Jealous Guy gets dirty, and we don’t like it.

Excerpted from Howe's article, "10 Beatles tracks to skip."

Wednesday haiku - "Michelle"

A sweet lounge ballad,
Paul's "Michelle" bursts with small charms,
including some French.

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.

Sunday haiku - "The Word"

When The Beatles ask,
"Have you heard the word is love",
they're in hippie mode.

Thursday haiku - "Think for Yourself"

With his "word or two",
George admonishes liars
and hard-headed types.

Sunday haiku - "Nowhere Man"

John was "Nowhere Man",
"sitting in his Nowhere Land",
listless and unsure.