The result is lulling and stately, a dream in audio Technicolor.
Love Me Do
Too much of the lyrics are clumsy. Is Paul himself the Fool on the Hill? Pepper to compare with the three or four landmark tracks he delivered on Revolver. This song took its inspiration from a Corn Flakes commercial.
There are a lot of groovy sound effects, but the story it tries to purvey is a little confused, and it clashes conceptually with the far more visionary treatment of the same subject in the last track on the album. Here we have JoJo andSweet Loretta, with other whimsical words strung together as if they mean something, which they most assuredly do not. The Lennon-McCartney songwriting sessions were supposed to take care of vapid lyric conceptions like this. McCartney is barely even processing what he is saying. I sing along every time it comes out of a speaker within earshot, just as you do.
The real star here is the sound. The vocals, with a ghostly aura around them, fill most of the recording; way in the back, a bass and a subtle drum track seem to exist on an entirely different plane. The trouble with too many of his compositions is that they turn in on themselves; they have no meaning outside of the actual song, and neither do the funny guitar noises he comes up with here. The result? It never appeared on a normal band album in the U. LP release that vacuumed up a number of uncollected hits.
Still in the U.
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The chorus rocks okay. McCartney sings the heck out of it; the manic instrumental breaks lack rock-and-roll bite, but for a pop song they are pretty lively. Better, better, better. The singer used to beat his wife, but things are getting better. It was top-ten hit in the U. This is a very pretty John Lennon song whose lyrics go on and on across the universe.
He was proud of it; to me, the whole thing, including the faux -Indian chorus, sounds dated. The song, which the band had recorded but not released, appeared on a charity album in , and then, in different form, on Let It Be the next year, Spectored up. The original version is on Past Masters.
The earlier version, while marred by some bird sounds and some chirpy munchkin backing vocal, is a little more organic-sounding. The song is not well served by the clunky break. A great find by the band. The song was recorded in the early part of , before the group trouped off to India, and turned up later as part of the detritus on the first side of the Yellow Submarine soundtrack album. It can be asked about a lot of pop songs, in the s and of course before and after: Why do boys who suddenly find themselves stars, and sleep with a different, willing woman after every show, suddenly start writing songs about unfaithful women?
I mean, besides projection. Docked 20 notches for making you sing along with a guy who wants to kill his girlfriend.
He had so many advantages, and lived an amazing life. So he was of course entitled to — and deserving of — expiation artistically. It feels like he wants to have it both ways.
Love Me Do: 50 Great Beatles Moments - Paolo Hewitt - Google книги
All the guitar workouts seem forced. Lennon would tame and focus these feelings to much better effect a few years later on Plastic Ono Band. His voice was so limited McCartney fashioned a melody for him largely centered around five contiguous notes. The ending presented a challenge.
By the time Revolver was released , the band members were adults, and dealing with unprecedented pressures — recording, money, the constant push and pull of fame, and pressing management questions. Epstein, by all accounts a talented guy, was only half a visionary, and was damaged by drug addiction and the debilitating life he had to lead, hiding his sexuality from the world. The band knew Epstein was gay, but largely left it alone, except for Lennon and his sharp tongue. By most accounts, Lennon shared a common working-class attitude toward homosexuality, and expressed himself volubly about fags and queers — affectionately, but often with a bite, when it came to his manager.
As Lennon grew older, he embraced feminism and grew out of his lumpen early attitudes, as of course someone with his intelligence and personality would. Still, he and Epstein were close. Lennon said the involvement was never consummated, but you could see how when he told his bandmates the story it could have been elaborated on to give Lennon a taste of his own medicine.
Sometime after, at a large public party, Lennon beat the living shit out of a friend who made a crack about him and Epstein, nearly causing a scandal. His business instincts and flair for organization took the Beatles to the top, but it would have taken a far greater mind than his to ride competently on the financial whirlwind he helped create.
He died of what was apparently an accidental overdose shortly after Sgt. This, the title song, might have been a good introduction to it. We then got myriad varying styles and varying quality with no sign of the metaband again until the reprise. That said, within the confines of the record, the song certainly rocks, albeit harmlessly. The release of the album was a worldwide event. A great hook for the only good song on Beatles for Sale. The verses are just pointless variations on a theme that goes nowhere. Again, the effortless rise in the melody was tracked unerringly by his supple voice.
The melodic climb in the chorus nails it; note how he affects to have a bit of trouble hitting the high notes, when of course he could sing them easily. Great ending, too. He was probably on heroin during the recording of this track, if not the composition, hence the convincing delivery of the title words. The film featured the members of the Beatles on what was supposed to be a surreal version of the British tradition of the touristy bus trip, and was shown in a high-profile forum: The traditional BBC day-after-Christmas special Boxing Day, there.
It created a minor scandal, not because it was outrageous but because it sucked balls. Magical Mystery Tour is unfunny, uninteresting, uncreative, cheap-looking, extraordinarily poorly shot, and — ironically — never went anywhere. But the title song is a marvel. But this is classic-era Beatles at their classic-era standard, which is to say the song sports a dizzying array of production innovations, melodic frills, thrilling instrumentation, head-snapping song construction, precise singing, and a driving backing track.
And one of those lovely Beatles codas. Still, docked ten notches for false advertising. Harrison found a thunderous riff in the music and uses it well. It trails off from time to time, though. It was a shtick, a trick, we knew it. Upped 20 notches for subtext. Another tossed-off track that outclasses virtually everything else around. Notice how again McCartney effortlessly — that word again — makes the transition to European love man, dropping casually into French, and asserting his bass into a lead instrument.
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The track mirrored developments in his life. During this time, he was dating a model named Jane Asher who came from a privileged family. In continental fashion, the family invited McCartney to live with them. But he had three creditable songs on this album. They and producer Martin expressed regret in later years for not being more available.
Songwriting was slow for Harrison. He himself noted that the pair had the relative luxury of getting all their bad songs out of their systems early. He had to start from scratch, without a partner, and in public. And one other thing: Harrison himself contributed any number of powerful and distinctive riffs to Lennon-McCartney songs, over and above his distinctive playing. The pair stitched together three verses of psychedelic patchwork as a joint project, with a six-word chorus.
Lennon himself works this one on out, and the other members of the group deliver the unrelenting pile-driver of a backing track. Chirpy Paul at his chirpiest. It was originally a showcase for drummer Pete Best in the Beatles, but Starr had also been singing it with the Hurricanes. They were in fact supposed to play live, but in the end the group created a typically ornate backing track in the studio to sing in front of. Today such exposure is now available to every kitten with a smart phone that can play piano, but at the time the broadcast — a bravura show of technological force by the BBC — was a not insignificant event.
You can find it online, and see Keith Moon and Mick Jagger in the audience. Maybe you can watch it and think about where these guys had been five years earlier and not get a little choked up. The song later turned up on the Yellow Submarine soundtrack album. McCartney, of course, wins in the pop realm.
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All but his very earliest songs and his later throwaways are sophisticated, and everything reverberates with taste and perspective. In other words, the melody itself tells a story. Lennon, McCartney, and Harrison then lock into the harmonies that helped make their name. The line about pain leading to pleasure takes this to the next level, as does his sharp intakes of breath.
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And who were the Beatles to point fingers at a guy sleeping with his groupies? His keyboard work here is as powerful a hard-rock piano line as I can think of. And I know he meant the song to be sympathetic to women.