One of the most versatile singer/songwriter/instrumentalists to ever grace the stage, Bobby Darin packed quite a bit of accomplishment into his 37 years. Throw in acting/production credits and you begin to get a picture of the ambition that pushed him to work to the end, despite frail health.
Walden Robert Cassotto passed away on December 20, 1973.
Filmed at the Stadthalle Offenbach, Bat Out of Hell: The Original Tour captures the raw excitement of Meat Loaf’s epic stage show. Larger-than-life songs like “You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth (Hot Summer Night)” and “Paradise By The Dashboard Light” sounded absolutely extravagant performed live. Not only does Meat Loaf dominate the stage, but he also captivates audiences with the riveting nature of his songs, with the help of the album’s songwriter Jim Steinman and female vocalist Karla DeVito.
Bruce Kulick's presence in the band gave the tunes a heavier edge that trumped the album versions.
Its visual proof of the power of Bat Out Of Hell, which certified 10x Platinum and sold over 40 million copies. Also included is a bonus interview from 1978 with Meat Loaf and Jim Steinman.
Track Listing: 1.) Great Boleros Of Fire 2.) Bat Out Of Hell 3.) You Took The Words Right Out Of My Mouth (Hot Summer Night) 4.) All Revved Up With No Place To Go 5.) Paradise By The Dashboard Light 6.) Introducing The Band 7.) Johnny B Goode 8.) River Deep, Mountain High 9.) Johnny B Goode (reprise) 10.) Two Out Of Three Ain¹t Bad 11.) All Revved Up With No Place To Go (reprise)
It sees official release on Nov 10th, so check it out.
Some of the finest albums of the rock era are celebrating their 40th anniversary this year, with Abbey Road, Tommy and Let It Bleed being just a few notable releases that hit turntables for the first time in 1969. When a quartet of hirsute Englishmen released their sophomore disc in the fall of that year, which came wrapped in appropriate autumnal colors, it heralded another great sea change in popular music.
Grandiloquence aside, Led Zeppelin II remains a mainstay of classic rock play lists and continues to attract scores of new converts.
Around the time that they exploded on the scene, a rock writer joked that the Beatles battled the Rolling Stones in a parking lot and Led Zeppelin won. Sonically, Zeppelin helped usher in the 70s with this massive, mind-blowing head trip that borrowed (very liberally) from the blues, refashioned it into a precision assault and marketed it to an unsuspecting public. A friend of mine saw them in 1970 (he was 15) and his brain was pinned against the back of his skull, cowering, for a week. There were heavy bands out there, though very few were this loud and exceptionally gifted all at once.
Comprised of two session-playing veterans (Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones) and two young upstarts (Robert Plant and John Bonham), Led Zeppelin was formed out of the wreckage of The Yardbirds in 1968 from which Page was left as the last man standing. The now-famous name came out of a drinking session that involved Keith Moon and John Entwistle, who were seriously considering leaving the Who to team up with Page and possibly Steve Marriot to embark on a project that would follow the blueprint of the Jeff Beck Group. Moon quipped that they would likely go over like a lead balloon or a lead zeppelin.
You never know what will come out of having a few pints.
When the actual lineup coalesced, they recorded the first LP quickly and the response was overwhelming. Touted as a “supergroup”, anticipation grew in advance of the follow up. Ultimately, they delivered a glimpse of a future where “guitar hero” would enter the rock vocabulary. Devising an aural template that has been widely imitated but never successfully duplicated, the combined talents of Jimmy Page and engineer Eddie Kramer were enough to ensure that rock records would never sound the same again. Despite the fact that the Zep II tracks were recorded on the fly while they were on tour, utilizing a number of different studios, the overall production does not sound piecemeal. It is an incredibly fresh sounding disc that, frankly, put all of their competitors to shame in terms of fidelity. Audiophiles of that era had to have been overjoyed that they weren’t straining to pick out the nuances in the contributions of the individual players. Power and clarity make for a gripping listening experience, though the key to most everything they did was an inherent understanding of dynamics. There is plenty of evidence that the three instrumentalists were in lock-step with each other, especially if you have spent any serious time listening to quality bootleg recordings of their better performances (preferably before 1975). Telepathy is the best descriptor of the interplay amongst them on stage as even mistakes were turned around, on the fly, into gold.
Having two brilliant arrangers in the band didn’t hurt either.
Retrospectively, Zeppelin is often seen as the band that slammed the door shut on the sixties and sonically vanquished all existing groups with an unprecedented volume that was as subtle as a charging rhino. Indeed, the cover of Led Zep II pretty much says it all. Equating themselves with Germany’s deadly WW I aviation squadron, Jasta 11, (the Flying Circus) you see the band member’s (plus Richard Cole and Peter Grant) faces superimposed on a now famous photograph of that division, which was led by Manfred von Richthofen aka The Red Baron. Tying themselves by name to another German invention, the dirigible that terrorized Britons during the first world war, the underlying message was clear:
When you put this record on, it’s going to carpet bomb you back to the Stone Age.
Opening with a muffled laugh, the monstrous, Les Paul/Marshall driven riff that heralds “Whole Lotta Love” is quickly joined by the bass and Plant’s vocal. When Bonham lays into his kit, it is with the power of a screaming formation of Messerschmitts darkening the skies, ready to drop their destructive payload on targets below. The blues have mutated here into a punishing, relentless blast designed and engineered to shock the already blown minds of the hippies and deliver the ultimate headphone trip-out, replete with noises equipped to rouse the dead. Page and Kramer apparently went to great lengths in manipulating the board to achieve the insanity unleashed in the mid-section of the tune. Utilizing a mad percussive base, snippets of extreme vocalizations from Plant and a theramin, love never sounded so deranged.
There was something that rang all too familiar about this track, though. Patterned on Willie Dixon’s composition "You Need Love" and the Small Faces take on it, from which Plant heavily drew on the vocal mannerisms of Steve Marriott, blues purists immediately began to cry foul when no credit was listed for Dixon on the LP.
Musically, it was a revelation, though Page would later lament the fact that Plant didn’t tweak the lyric enough for them to escape charges of plagiarism. Regardless of this, the impact of “Whole Lotta Love” was undeniable, especially the turnaround after the wig-out in the middle as Bonham comes back in hard and Page tromps his Wah pedal to the floor and spits out three, picture perfect lead lines that bring us back to the main theme, which fades with Plant’s primal screams.
There’s a reason for those “Get the Led Out” specials that still factor heavily in the formats of rock stations.
“What Is and What Should Never Be” is an exercise in “light and shade”, with a languid, jazzy intro in which the star of the show is the bassmanship of John Paul Jones. Just as you’re lulled into a false sense of security, Bonham’s bricklayer hands smack the snare and the dynamic is altered. Rather than bulldozing their way through ten tracks, without stopping to take a breath, they generally chose to vary the pace of their program and this is a wonderful example. Page’s slide solo straddles the two themes and the outro is pure gold, with guitar panned madly across the stereo divide, gong and more histrionics from Plant.
The remainder of the first side is devoted to a reworking of Howlin’ Wolf’s “Killing Floor” during the course of which everyone has a chance to go ballistic on their respective instruments, while Plant gives specific instructions on how to deal with his lemon, which no doubt inspired the re-titling of said tune. “Thank you” is a gentle, mid-temp affair, with prominent Hammond fills from JPJ and an excellent acoustic solo, though it trails off with a slightly meandering keyboard theme that follows the trick ending. You can imagine the faithful snapped out of their reverie in a smoke filled room, with a roach or two in the ashtray, thinking that the needle should have skidded into the run-out groove by that point.
Surprise!
Speaking of vinyl, those that turned over the disc for the first time to hear side two were treated to another monster riff over a groovy shuffle. “Heartbreaker” must certainly be in the top ten when it comes to songs that originally inspired the concept of “air guitar”. Building in intensity, the main figure changes key signatures at several points until it comes to a dead stop.
It is here that Page enshrines himself in the guitar god hall of fame by peeling off the now-famous solo lines that have been imitated thousands of times in the intervening years since this LP first appeared. In performance, this section was filled with every imaginable improvisation, ranging from Bach to "The 59th Street Bridge Song" . Back on record, the band joins him in a furious Yardbirds-esque rave up to continue the mayhem at maximum speed (for 1969 anyway) dragged along by another excellent Page-ism (later to be co-opted by Alex Lifeson to form the bulk of Rush’s “Beneath, Between and Behind”). This scorching solo comes to a screeching halt once again and we're back into the verse, heading for the homestretch.
Those would-be imitators who followed them never quite got it, either.
Seriously evaluating the remainder of the disc, you have a quick, non-descript rocker ("Living Loving Maid") followed up by a really fantastic acoustic-electric gem with outstanding bass lines. "Ramble On" really stands out as a key to the versatility of Zeppelin. This tune qualifies my previous remark about those groups that fell short in their attempts to follow LZ's lead. Beautifully understated, there is a serious degree of finesse displayed by everyone involved, with an intentionally insane amount of panning between the channels in the fade (listen with headphones). One thing has always bothered me in reading the musings of various rock critics on Zep is the ink that has been devoted to Plant's love of Tolkien's prose and his incorporation of Middle Earth into the lyrics.
I don't hear it.
Aside from mentioning "the darkest depths of Mordor" and the slithery Gollum in the verse of "Ramble On", there is no sword and sorcery action at all on this disc. Worse yet, the same idiot rock writiers all trashed this excellent platter when it was new, preferring to list what drug they were on while listening, rather than fairly taking in the work.These scribes either had their ears packed with gauze or were frightened by the muscular sounds they were hearing. For a good laugh, look up John Mendelsohn's cringe worthy description of the LP, which appeared in Rolling Stone shortly after it was released.
If you ran out and bought everything recommended within the pages of Rolling Stone, you would be in possession of the shittiest collection of music on the planet.
"Moby Dick" is introduced by the riff from Bobby Parker’s 1961 hit, "Watch your Step" which mirrors the model, but not the music, set up by Cream for Ginger Baker in “Toad”. This development would lead to the stadium rock syndrome of allowing the drummer to flail away, interminably, as the other band members trooped off-stage for booze, drugs, sex or all three.
Bonham made his showcase count, as he knew how to tune his drum heads properly, was technically skilled and went the extra mile by playing a good portion of the solo with his bare hands.
Now, that’s rock and roll.
Snapping off abruptly, the end game is set up with a scratchy, 12 bar snippet that features Plant blowing a mean harp, slurring his words in the guise of an old bluesman. Some have singled this out as an embarrassingly racist pastiche, though I truly believe that it was performed as a genuine, fulsome tribute to the blues artists that both Plant and Page were obsessed with. Had they seen fit to list proper song writing credits, where they were due, they would have completely leveled their karma. Just as this interlude ends on one breath drawn in on Plant's harmonica, Page cuts in with a bold, distorted guitar line, which became epic in his hands with harmonized overdubs. The rhythm section burns with the intensity of a blast furnace as everyone truly "brings it on home". Nothing of this magnitude had ever graced a disc and yet sounded so precise. Countless needles were offered up in ritual sacrifice as kids bought the LP by the truckload, wearing it out from continuous play. Knocking Abbey Road out of the number one spot (twice) in those fateful, dying months of the 1960's, Led Zeppelin II made everything that came before seem quaint by comparison.
Critical opinion has long since been revised with respect to Zeppelin's output, though at the time their very existence was seen as a cynical, money-grabbing ploy by record executives. The sheer force of their collective talents went a long way in dispelling the ideas that they hadn't payed their dues playing dives and were merely the product of hype.
Led Zeppelin II sealed their position in the stratosphere and rock grew several feet taller, losing its baby fat in the process.
October 21st saw the release of "Big Man", the larger than life autobiography of Clarence Clemons.
Recognized as the most accomplished and well known member of the E-Street Band, saxophonist Clarence Clemons is delivering the inside story of his life before, during and beyond the E-Street Band, including unbelievable, never-before-told adventures with Bruce Springsteen, the band, and an incredible cast of other famous characters recounted by himself and his best friend, television writer/ producer Don Reo in Big Man.
This is a must-read for all fans of Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street Band.
Widely hailed as their supreme recorded achievement, an opinion with which the band members themselves concur, Sabbath Bloody Sabbath was quite a departure from the aural template that the group had set in place with their first few releases. Choosing to retreat somewhat from their relentless touring and recording schedule in 1973, the members of Black Sabbath reconvened to work on the new tracks at a more leisurely pace. Vol. 4 had several signposts that pointed to a new direction, including a gradual abandonment of their signature lugubrious, sludgy sound. One significant difference with this record is that Tony Iommi had drastically altered his guitar tone. Production values were also much higher than before with strings and keyboard augmentation becoming more of a rule than an exception.
Still, there was no worry about Sabbath straying into Barry Manilow’s territory.
PROLOGUE
While recording the tracks for Vol. 4 back in ‘72, the Sabs hung out in LA, snorted mountains of coke and availed themselves of the pleasures of being rock stars in sunny California in the “let it all hang out” early seventies. Seeking to duplicate the process, the lads jetted back to the US to set about getting some new material together at the Record Plant. Trouble set in immediately as the vibe in the studio wasn’t the same due to the banks of keyboards and synths that had been brought in by Stevie Wonder, who was also working on a new project. The root of the problem was that Iommi was going through a brief dry spell with respect to new ideas. Generally, the others looked to him to come in with riffs and musical passages to which they could add their parts, sketch out melody lines and add lyrics. Cutting their losses, they trooped back to the UK and took some time to rethink their approach as Iommi went back to the drawing board.
The new rehearsal space was the dungeon in a castle in Wales, with band members continually having a go at scaring the shit out of each other. Once ensconced, Iommi reconnected with his muse and came up with the signature opening blast that became the title cut on the disc. Had things not turned around, the Sabbath story might well have ended right here. Once this temporary creative block was removed, the songs flowed beautifully and took several very uncharacteristic turns as they were mapped out.
Black Sabbath should be counted as one of the most important bands to ever plug in and play.
Want to know why?
Innovation by accident.
Most rock aficionados know about the unfortunate injury that a 17 year old Tony Iommi sustained to his fret hand while he was on his last shift in a sheet metal factory. The machine he was working with caught the tips of his middle fingers on his right hand, severing them instantly. He was a lefty and the incident almost brought an end to his guitar playing days. Perseverance coupled with invention allowed him to continue. He fashioned plastic finger tips to bear the brunt of applying pressure to the strings, though the guitar in standard tuning still made it painful to depress them with enough force to produce proper notes. His solution was to detune the guitar, thus slackening the pounds per square inch on the neck and making it much easier to play with prosthetic finger tips.
This significant event would eventually spawn a completely new genre. When Sabbath took shape, Geezer Butler detuned his bass to match Iommi and they became the heaviest sounding group of their time. Heavy metal in the darkest shade of black had arrived. Their approach was not without precedent, as Blue Cheer and Mountain had been walking the same sonic path, although Iommi's departure from basic blues structures gave them a unique angle, unlike anything else in the marketplace.
Critical reaction to the band was fairly chilly, quite often singling their material out as being plodding and simplistic.
“Sabbath Bloody Sabbath” was a giant, raised middle finger to each and every writer who had ripped them, not recognizing that they stood in the vanguard as originators of a new type of music. It also stands as a very powerful opening salvo, which is solidly anchored by the rhythm section. Suddenly shifting gears, the riff is replaced with a delicate figure that leaps from the Wes Montgomery jazz playbook.
Nobody will ever let you know, when you ask the reason why
They’ll just tell you that you’re on your own, fill your head all full of lies
This section is reminiscent of the verses in the Beatles “Don’t Let Me Down” which also features a prominent F sharp minor. Crashing back into the main theme followed by a solo, things take yet another ominous turn with one of the most foreboding set of changes over which Ozzy floats his “helium voice”.
Distancing themselves from that incredible, bottom heavy sound on record may have been disconcerting for fans that were looking for more of the same. The quality output found on Sabbath Bloody Sabbath was sufficient to silence even the harshest critic. The production is clean, while managing to avoid that antiseptic feel, as the listener is always reminded that a real band is kicking throughout. Out of the eight selections, only one falls flat with respect to standing up to repeated listening and that is the tedious “Who Are You”, livened up only by some decorative keyboard and mini-moog work by Rick Wakeman.
Yes!
Wakeman lends his virtuosity on the 88s to “Sabbra Cadabra” as well as handling harpsichord and piano duties on “Fluff”. Legend has it that he exacted no more than a couple of pints of John Courage Best Bitter as payment for his services. He had struck up a friendship with the quartet when Yes and Sabbath toured together and was far more committed to having a good time than his Yes-mates were. Hence, some fun drinking sessions with Osbourne and Ward ensued and everyone bonded through the magic of cocktails.
In my view, just about everyone who picks up an electric guitar and thrashes out a rock song these days automatically owes mechanical royalties to Tony Iommi. Merely stating that he was prolific when it came to creating iconic riffs does not properly do him justice. Using a few examples from this LP, let’s have a look at the six-string bounty that was heaped upon them.
“Sabbath Bloody Sabbath” – Five distinct themes
“A National Acrobat” - Six changes
“Killing Yourself to Live”- Six changes
He had so much going on in some of these compositions that, in some cases, he didn’t even trouble himself to return to the introductory guitar figure. This is one of many reasons why I think that people who knock the band demonstrate a profound ignorance of their accomplishments and influence.
Even a cursory glance at the lyric sheet for this disc would be enough to raise an eyebrow. “A National Acrobat” explores the eternal cosmic questions that Geezer Butler playfully dismissed as being, “about having a wank.” Deflecting the controversial nature of his subject matter with humor, Butler knowingly wades into the long debated topic of “at what point does life begin?” with an ease of expression and deftly ties it to the concept of reincarnation. This is one of my favorites in their entire catalogue, as it is intelligently constructed on all fronts. Ozzy delivers the song with a wink (and a laugh toward the end).
Bill Ward propels the slow, twisting riff with his usual dexterity, steering the others smartly through all of the changes. He gave Sabbath an extremely important anchor for many of their flights of fancy, though what separated him from many of his heavy-rock contemporaries was his ability to infuse his time-keeping with swing. He was never lead-footed and you can hear a slight Elvin Jones influence in the way he flew around the kit.. There is a tendency to forget how much Ward contributed as a percussionist as he was overshadowed by John Bonham and Keith Moon in the flash department. His jazzy touches provide a finesse that balances well with some of the more ponderous explorations of early Sabbath, almost akin to the example of a heavy person that is surprisingly light on their feet. Those flourishes at the tail end of “Sabbra Cadabra” are prime evidence of his skills and lighter touch(not to mention the entire song-it cooks!)
Sabbath always had time for a mellow guitar interlude that generally served as a buffer to give the listener a breather from the exercises in brain-melting riffology. “Fluff” is the most developed of these themes to date. The guitar break in the bridge is pure Hard Day’s Night era Beatles, so convincing that it sounds as if George Harrison himself showed up to play on the session. Wakeman's harpsichord and piano decoration add up to a very sophisticated final product.
Both "Sabbra Cadabra" and "Killing Yourself to Live" are multi-part epics. They are also the last really heavy songs on the LP with the former seeing the band straying into near-Zeppelin territory. Ozzy howls about "his woman", though his distinctive phrasing is miles away from Robert Plant and borders on pathos in the breakdowns. Though he was never a technically perfect singer, he developed a style that perfectly suited the onslaught created by Iommi, Butler and Ward. Don't forget that this is the same John Osbourne that spent hours in front of the mirror as a teen trying to imitate his idol, Paul McCartney. It is to his credit that he found his own voice and niche as a front man.
"Who Are You" is simply boring, which was rare in their case.
Curiously, two very un-Sabbath-like selections were chosen for the homestretch and close the proceedings in majestic fashion. "Looking For Today" hammers home a "here today, gone later today" lyrical theme, cleverly taking a shot at the ascendance of the Me Decade's greedy, disposable consumer culture. Ward lays down a groove throughout the verses that echoes the scattershot patterns that Keith Moon employed in "Happy Jack" and "I Can See For Miles", though he plays it straight on the chorus. Iommi adds flute to the mix and the tune rides out on a repeated arpeggiated wig-out, topped off by dueling guitar solos.
Nothing in this remarkable set prepares the listener for the grandiosity of the finale.
Prefaced by a slice of faux-classical acoustic picking, the haunting theme gives way to a supercharged electric intro, fired by intense high-hat work and dramatic punches. Iommi does a nice scale excercise and the drums tumble into a very pretty, orchestrated verse.
Sorcerers of madness
Selling me their time
Child of god sitting in the sun
Giving peace of mind
Fictional seduction
On a black snow sky
Sadness kills the superman
Even fathers cry
Sweeping strings lead into the chorus, written by Ward. Overall, the sheer impact of "Spiral Architect" is quite stunning. Wil Malone's arrangement is tasteful and the momentum builds right up to the end as the tension snaps on the last note, applause is dubbed in and Sabbath take their bows. Bass and drums provide the perfect outro to fade. To say that this is a beautiful song is an understatement.
Sabbath Bloody Sabbath marked a great turning point in the development of their sound, which saw them turn away from where they had started. Litigation, pharmaceutical intake and internal disagreement about how to proceed followed this excellent disc, with all three virtually bringing their operation to a halt for a period. Fans would see the group release just one more "classic" record the following year with Sabotage, though it would, sadly, be their last high calibre work of the decade.
Have you ever seen a more excited bunch of faces superimposed on an album cover? Look at Rudy Schenker (top left). He seems particularly proud to be part of the action.
Germany ’s finest melodic hard rock export hit their peak of popularity when World Wide Live rolled off of the production line in 1985. Released close on the heels of Blackout and Love At First Sting, this double live set played up their recent commercial successes while also offering up a few fantastic versions of tunes that stretch back to 1979's Lovedrive LP.
The Scorpions had a rotating cast of musicians that had been making music together since the sixties. From the release of their debut in 1971, the band saw quite a few line up changes, though fuzzy-headed lead singer Klaus Meine was a constant fixture from this date and the group remained relatively stable through the 80s.
Boasting a tight rhythm section and some very flashy dual lead playing courtesy of Rudy Schencker and Mattias Jabs, they burn through stone heavy renditions of “Blackout” and “Big City Nights”. The performances were taken from five different venues in the US and Europe during their 1984 tour and are nicely sequenced by producer Dieter's Dance Party Dierks.
Perfecting their blend of distortion and melody in the seventies, the band entered the 80’s with a string of big albums. Embracing the MTV craze, they also made a series of videos that would have made Spinal Tap proud. (I’m looking at you, director of the “Rock You Like A Hurricane” clip)
Spandex-laden, poodle-on-the-head visuals aside, World Wide Live delivers as a really great document of the heavy “Don Kirschner’s Rock Concert” experience.
Except that you don’t get a tour T-shirt.
I would be willing to wager a pair of leather pants and three, dog-collared girls in a cage with 80’s mall-hair on the fact that these guys will continue playing excellent music together regardless of trends or fads.
Quite often, in the midst of the feeding frenzies that accompany trends in music, a record will quietly appear that has little to do with the current flavor of the month. Without the haircut, ridiculous uniform or whatever other element that is au courant with the great unwashed masses, there is little hope of said release attracting much revenue, let alone attention. In the early 90s, with grunge all the rage, one such disc hit stores to the sound of one hand clapping.
Far too many of these stories are prevalent in the music business, lined up like empties in a dive bar at closing time. This one concerns the criminally underrated Michael Penn, brother of Sean, husband of Aimie Mann (also an excellent song writer) who is generally noted for his “hit” (“No Myth”) from his debut solo album, March.
His second full length effort, Free for All, is quite worthy of your time, should you be fortunate enough to find a copy. This is not to say that the contents will change your life, though you will be pleasantly surprised if you favor slightly dark, melodic pop.
1992 was not a banner year for those who mined this genre.
There were more than a few artists at that time (Neil Finn, Karl Wallinger, Lenny Kravitz, Matthew Sweet) who were taking a page from the "Golden Book of Mid-Sixties Song Structure" . Personally, I believe that 1966 was a high watermark in terms of creativity and saw the construction of a template that has been adopted by countless performers ever since. Dylan’s Blonde On Blonde, The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds, The Beatles Revolver, The Stones Aftermath, The Byrds Fifth Dimension…the list of gems from that fabled year is staggering. All would figure prominently in shaping the listening tastes of Michael Penn.
While he does wear some of the stylistic devices of his influences on his sleeve, the material has a twinkle in its eye and a cutting wit behind it that often belies the straightforward nature of the tunes. Grey clouds hover over this set right from the opener ("Long Way Down") which is a model of economy in arrangement, with a hint of bile in the lyric.
Now I would suppose that I'm not the only one and one never knows... but I got a feeling she's been sleeping with the whole wide world
His musical partner in crime, keyboardist Patrick Warren, fleshes out the soundscape by employing a Chamberlin (named for its inventor Harry Chamberlin) to provide the ethereal coloring that adds much to the retro feel of this disc. First unveiled in 1946, it is a musical instrument that was also able to play pre-recorded magnetic tapes and was the precursor to the Mellotron, which is functionally the same thing.
Here's an interesting interview with Chamberlin himself, should you have a moment to spare.
All things considered, Free For All showcases a writer who can turn a very important trick: Sounding upbeat when the subject matter is often fairly heavy and serious. Highlights are "Free Time", "Seen the Doctor", "By the Book" and the brilliant closer, "Now We're Even". Tastefully executed, it really doesn't have a bad track out of the ten. Your reward in all of this, aside from sturdy melodies, will be the multi-layered wordplay, at which he excels.
I loved a girl once beyond compare, She saw inside me and gave me air, She was assisting my surgery my heart was opened as she put a mask on me, I'm breathing but it's become a chore, now that you've seen the doctor don't call me anymore
Repeated listening will reveal the charms of this record, as it won't immediately grab you by the lapels and demand that you sit still for its duration. Out of step with contemporary tastes, it's a great pity that this one simply got lost in the shuffle when it was brand new.
Faced with the prospect of trying to wring a marketable product out of the Get Back tapes, the group members chose to sit on the material. Word has it that the band was under the assumption that all of these tracks were purely for the movie/TV soundtrack. Therefore, they had no intention of putting it out as an LP until the film was edited and ready for release.
Two days after these film/recording sessions wrapped, Allen Klein was brought in as manager and the long, litigious mess that would hover over their monetary/business affairs for decades began to unfold.
Meanwhile, decisions about what course would be taken next were looming. Meetings were held and the general consensus was bittersweet. They would regroup to make one last great album as their Get Back episode yielded less than spectacular results. Lennon later candidly referred to it as, “the shittiest load of badly recorded shit ever, with a lousy feeling to it.”
Tell us how you really feel, Johnny.
Paul again was the catalyst for getting the project in motion. George Martin thought that he would not be involved in another Beatle session again, as the January recording period was nightmarish. When he took the call from McCartney, he was skeptical about the promise that everyone had agreed to make an album “like they used to”, free of the arguments and dissention that had marred the last two endeavors. The difference with Abbey Road was a commitment to make something that would maintain the magnificent standard they had set with their stellar discography to date and allow the group to end their time together on a high note.
Production values were at their highest for this LP as the studio it was named for had just installed a brand new 16 track desk which provided greater freedom to add layers without losing clarity in the final mix. Geoff Emerick returned to the team, joined by a young tape op named Alan Parsons who would be a guiding hand behind many successful recordings, including Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon and his own “Project” (The Turn of a Friendly Card album is one of his best). One element that really jumps out when you listen to Abbey Road is the bass-heavy mix. In the early years, this was one feature that their records were sadly deprived of and the bottom end frequencies here more than compensate for that. (Ringo’s bass drum is very present in the mix.) Critics have often pointed to the fact that things sound almost too polished, but I disagree. My belief is that they had learned a valuable lesson in flogging themselves endlessly to get perfect live takes back in January. Namely, that their forte had always lain in their ability to take good material and perfect it in the studio at their own pace. This became a necessity as their ideas grew more complex with each subsequent disc. They were an excellent live band when they were switched on, though song craft in studio played a much larger role following their departure from the stage in 1966.
Cordial would best describe the studio atmosphere during this period, though guitars were still banged down in anger from time to time and arguments erupted. It was nothing compared to the past year, though and this made for some extremely rewarding end product. The suite of songs on side two alone is a masterful blend of odds and ends that emphasizes the whole over the sum of its parts. It also lined George Martin and McCartney up against Lennon in terms of what each side wanted to hear. The “pop symphony” or “long medley” as it was called was openly criticized by Lennon, who reportedly said that he was fine with listening to the “Something”/”Come Together” single and didn’t care for the rest of Abbey Road. He even stated at one point that he wanted McCartney’s songs grouped on one side and his own on the other.
Fortunately, democracy won the day.
Shoot me
Lennon’s first utterance on the rough and ready opener, “Come Together”, is obscured by tape echo, hand claps and the kick drum. It’s a bit spooky and somewhat prescient in light of the tragic circumstances that prematurely ended his life. Originally conceived as a campaign song for Timothy Leary who was seriously (!) considering entering the race to become Governor of California, Lennon revised the lyric and came up with one of his best late period pieces. He also screwed himself by incorporating (and altering) a line from Chuck Berry’s ode to fast cars (“You Can’t Catch Me”) to start the song (“Here come old flat top, she come groovin’ up slowly”). Morris Levy, who owned the copyright, would later engage Lennon in court, with the settlement triggering another legal battle, from which Lennon would win damages as a result.
Great feel, with impeccable playing from everyone involved is key to the energy generated here, while the wordplay is genuinely inspired.
Snaky, gliding bass work and smooth tom rolls broken only by quick high hat flourishes introduce the piece and the Beatles add yet another distinctive album opener to their already impressive canon. Within thirty seconds, without even a hint of the opening verse, “Come Together” announces its arrival with authority. Their prodigious talent as arrangers is too often overlooked. Close your eyes and listen to the homogeneity of contemporary radio and you will barely be able to tell one band/song from another. This was never an issue when it came to the music produced by Lennon/McCartney/Harrison as they created so many varied and memorable intros. Rarely would they fail to surprise or dazzle when crafting parts for each song.
George Harrison’s two spotlighted contributions to the LP rank as his absolute best Beatle compositions. Long time associate Derek Taylor had a running joke with Harrison whenever either of them had an idea. Invariably, they would always say, “This could be the Big One!”
“Something” was indeed just that.
Conceived while the White Album was in production, it fulfilled every bit of the promise that Chris Thomas saw in it when George first played it to him and was a huge hit when it was pulled as the A-side to the only single released from Abbey Road. John named it as his favorite track on the record, while Frank Sinatra reportedly thought that it was the greatest love song of the past fifty years and added it to his live repertoire. Harrison was not amused by the fact that he perpetually introduced it in concert as a Lennon/McCartney number.
Nudging into McCartney’s territory in terms of melody, “Something” benefits from excellent foundation playing, especially the exquisitely tasteful bass work. Harrison redid his guitar solo live as the strings were being added. It is an incredible effort on all counts and truly represents the full flowering of Harrison's songwriting ability. As the last note fades, one gets the feeling that this could be their best disc and with your appetite whetted by the one-two punch of the opening selections, you certainly wouldn’t be faulted for believing just that.
Then “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” kicks in and Abbey Road veers toward “Subpar Avenue” with the clank of an anvil. This one should have been elbowed from the disc.
John: "The Beatles could have gone on appealing to a wide audience as long as we taped nice little folk songs like "Maxwell's Siver Hammer" for the grannies to dig."
George: "Paul would make us do these really fruity songs. I mean, my God, 'Maxwell's Silver Hammer' was so fruity..."
“Oh Darling" is far superior, featuring a shredding McCartney vocal that he achieved by coming in to the studio early every day for a week to scream until it was honed to perfection. Essentially an update of fifties doo-wop with great harmonies, it still doesn't amount to much more than the fact that McCartney had probably been listening to Zappa's Cruising With Reuben and the Jets LP. Paul's take on the genre isn't very substantial, though it is flawlessly executed and contains a very cutting, distorted rhythm guitar part. Ringo's "Octopuses Garden" is an inoffensive tune, though it again weighs down the record with more fluff. Harrison generously stepped back, uncredited, as he obviously did much to shape the song and give it the country-ish solos that make it seem more interesting than it actually is.
Just as the whole operation seems destined for mediocrity, the ominous guitar figure that heralds "I Want You (She's So Heavy)" enters and makes you forget about the last three tunes. Suggestive of Mel Torme's "Comin' Home Baby", the lyric is a minimalist, primal declaration of lust that is torn from Lennon's gut. That great big "fuck off" riff is hammered home after basic blues changes, with excellent Hammond insanity provided by Billy Preston, dive bombing bass runs and inventive drumming from Mr. Starkey. John and George piled on the guitars while Lennon employed Harrison's newly acquired Moog synth to create the white noise that builds toward the end, slowly covering the instruments as the guitar part cycles over and over, hypnotically, until it ends abruptly. Lennon sat with Alan Parsons, listening to the finished product and instructed him to cut the tape at that point, using silence to jar the potential listener with an unexpected full stop. It is by far the heaviest cut and the second longest Beatle track, beaten only by "Revolution 9".
Side two of Abbey Road is truly what makes the record, with Paul and George Martin taking a number of fragments, slotting them in with fully formed creations and threading them together in a suite that comprises one of their finest song cycles. Often referred to as the “Long Medley” or the “Big One”, none of the tunes are related to one another, though like Sgt. Pepper it is clever sequencing and cross fading work that gives the impression of seamlessness. This remains quite brilliant forty years on and lifts the tension created by the weaker tunes on the flip.
Before delving into this excellent “back nine” of the disc, it’s important to note that much of this material dated back to the previous year as well as the Get Back sessions. No less than twelve of the seventeen tracks on Abbey Road were worked on during filming in January of that year. Lennon’s only new offerings were “Come Together”, “Because” and “Sun King”. Paul chipped in “You Never Give Me Your Money” and was the driving force behind “Carry That Weight” and how the pop symphony that comprised the second side took shape. This is not to say that there was a creative trough, but rather that the principal songwriters weren’t prepared to submit anything more than they absolutely had to for the sake of a band that was on its last legs. It is quite likely that they were hoarding newly penned songs with an eye toward placing them in the context of future solo work.
Who knows?
The second “Harrisong” of the set starts with a delicate, tricky acoustic riff that provides yet another signature side opener. There is a deft swoop into the first verse that suggests the arrival of that familiar solar orb in the morning sky. “Here Comes the Sun” was written in Eric Clapton’s garden during a morning where Harrison was playing truant, as he had grown weary of attending the interminable Apple board meetings that were the cause of consternation for all group members and those in the inner circle. Quite a pretty melody it is, as well. George also deploys the Moog synth to provide atmospheric coloring, as he did on several other Abbey Road selections. It’s never overdone, nor is it a cornerstone of all the arrangements. Certain artists tend to go overboard when discovering new sounds or exotic instruments, though the Beatles team generally chose to go the tasteful route with their experiments.
This is a “Threetles” performance as Lennon was recovering from a recent car accident. Ringo’s playing is inventive and he instinctively manages the subtle variances in timing with great precision. Look up ‘feel player’ in your music dictionary and Mr. Starkey would easily be in the top five. For all of the friction that had occurred between Paul and George, the former generally took great care to craft excellent parts which enhanced the latter’s work. I would tend to agree with Lennon’s estimation when he spoke about George’s position as the invisible man, taking notes and absorbing all that he could about the writing process from his senior band mates.
Lennon is uncharacteristically mute on this record, composition-wise. “Beacause” is one of his last (for a while) to feature word games and fanciful imagery within the body of the lyric. Yoko’s influence on his art would loom quite large. Her reasoning that all creativity should be an expression and a deep exploration of the artist’s personal feelings would color his writing for some time. Bottom line: If it wasn’t about you, it didn’t count. This approach would be taken to great lengths on his first proper solo LP, which comes close to musical exorcism at times. Here, John runs some very clever puns together as Paul and George join him to triple track some beautiful three part harmonies over a foundation of harpsichord, bass and Moog.
You never give me your money, you only give me your funny paper.
Kicking off with a minor key, solo piano intro, McCartney’s subdued vocal is tinged with an uncharacteristic sadness. This multi-part highlight starts off sounding like he’s alluding to the fragmented affairs of the group and has surrendered any hopes of things returning to the way they were. Talk of negotiations is certainly reflective of what was becoming routine for the four, who were now sitting in boardrooms, often with lawyers present. When legal wrangling started in earnest, there was one particular occasion when McCartney sent his solicitor along to a meeting and didn’t attend himself. The others asked the startled barrister why he didn’t bring his bass.
Moving swiftly into a fast boogie theme and then shifting gears into what would be very memorable outro complete with a creepy, harmonized “1,2,3,4,5,6,7 all good children go to heaven” that cross fades into “Sun King”, they pack much invention into the guitar parts and allow for a nice solo in the bargain. Listen right here for what they edited out at the end of the track, including some extended Claptonesque lead playing courtesy of Mr. H.
Sunrise is again evoked thanks to a little bag of tape loops that Paul had made and brought in to assist with the transition into an understated Lennon tune that began life as a jam inspired by the Fleetwood Mac song "Albatross". This is the Peter Green incarnation of the band, several years away from pop superstardom and still very much rooted in the blues, as all three were alumni of John Mayall's Bluesbreakers. Then again, who didn't play in that band. John's "Sun King" is highlighted by harmonized gibberish lyrics and a rotating riff that abruptly ends with a drum pickup and we are suddenly treated to two quick vignettes, welded together as they are merely song fragments that Lennon demoed back in '68 and weren't taken much further lyrically.
"Mean Mr. Mustard" and "Polythene Pam" fly by, with the latter sung in a very thick Liverpudlian Scouse accent and was apparently inspired by an evening that John spent with poet Royston Ellis and his girlfriend, Stephanie. The three wore bags made of "polythene", a common British contraction of polyethylene, and slept in the same bed out of curiosity about kinky sex.
Lennon dismissed both as, "a bit of crap that I wrote in India."
"She Came in Through the Bathroom Window" really changed from the arrangement worked out in January. It was given a quicker tempo and George provides a running commentary of guitar coloring, almost countryish in flavor, in response to each line of the verse. Paul wrote this about an incident where one of the so-called "Apple Scruffs" (female fans that hung around constantly waiting for members of the group) did climb through the bathroom window of his home and stole a picture of his father Jim. There are several different takes of this one and the version chosen for Anthology 3 is scarily close to the structure of "Free As A Bird".
A 17th century poem by Thomas Dekker was adapted by McCartney to form the bulk of the lyric to "Golden Slumbers". He came up with the tune, though. What is interesting is this clip of them listening to take one, roughly 25 years after the fact. No one seems to have a handle on who played bass on this pass through.
The segue into "Carry That Weight" has everyone hollering into the mic, with a breakdown that features an brief orchestral reprise of a line from "You Never Give Me Your Money" a full stop and we're back into "carrying that weight" for another few bars until the gears shift to the familiar C to A major arpeggio that faded into "Sun King" earlier on. The homestretch of Abbey Road gives all four the chance to solo. Ringo goes first, with an insistent bass drum thump over which he executes a few tom rolls. Never a champion of the "drum solo" he keeps his bit short and sweet and the group blasts into a rock motif over which the words "Love you" are chanted in unison, going up the scale as Paul, George and John (in that order) each take two bar solos that cycle until everything comes to a dead stop, save for a lone, insistent piano.
And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make
With that, came "The End" of an incredible recording career.
Not so fast.
Roughly 20 seconds after the last note fades and just as the needle was poised to slide into the run out groove, a cymbal crash comes out of nowhere. This is followed by a quick acoustic snippet by McCartney which mirrors the surprise ending on side one by having the last guitar chord lopped off, ending mid strum. "Her Majesty"'s opening was the final, crashing chord of "Mean Mr. Mustard", while that last note remained buried in the mix of "Polythene Pam" as it was originally slotted between those two tunes in the medley. It was a happy accident, as engineer John Kurlander was told to edit the song out of the mix. Knowing that he was not to discard anything that they recorded, he spliced it onto the end of the master tape. Everyone got an acetate copy of this, liked what they heard and it remained in place when the album was pressed.
AND IN THE END...
This was a very slick record, made very much with the aim of doing something better than what came out of Get Back/Let It Be. It was greeted with mixed reviews at the time of issue. Side two justifies its existence, though it loses points for some of the crap on side one. Imagine if you will, a full group recording of "Come and Get It" in place of "Maxwell's Getting Hammered" and "All Things Must Pass" nudging out "Octopuses Garden".
Then it would have been their finest disc.
Abbey Road sold more copies in the US than any of its predecessors (roughly 5 million right out of the gate back in ‘69) and it seemed that the group could do no wrong. No details surrounding the band’s continued existence (or lack thereof) were made public, so listeners assumed that it would be business as usual in 1970. Some saw Lennon and Harrison’s moves (albeit separately) back to live performance as a hint that the quartet might be gearing up to tour again. Advancements in technology saw sound systems and stage gear grow larger, giving artists the ability to project their sets to massive audiences.
All of this speculation would come to nothing though, as the greatest songwriting partnership of the sixties was finished. Flaming out amongst personal, creative and business differences, the four men who had instigated a revolution in sound and culture would never regroup to make new music.
The last studio session with everyone present took place on August 20th, 1969.
Their legacy was further tarnished by a slew of legal issues that dragged on for years and put more than a few lawyer’s kids through university. Lennon’s shocking murder in 1980 stunned a generation, cruelly cutting short the life of a great talent and robbing his family of a husband and father. The possibility of a group reunion passed with him, giving poignancy to the fact that there are no happy endings when you tell the rest of the story.
Settlement of long standing litigation in the late eighties brought some form of closure to the tangled monetary and business situation of the surviving group members. This opened the door to complete The Beatles Anthology project, giving Paul, George and Ringo a chance to retrace their time in the biggest group on the planet. Entertaining it is, candid it is not (with a few exceptions). Serving as a chronological roadmap that tracks their progression from birth right through to the break up of the band, the documentary has much to commend it and is packed with amazing performance and interview footage.
Ultimately, when we pass, we have no control over the guardianship of our history. For the average person, family members pass on the stories and photographs, though most of us are forgotten with the passage of time after we've left the 3-D realm.
The ability to tell your story properly depends on how well you have documented it.
The Beatles story is a larger than life fairy tale that has grown to epic proportions. Two members are now gone, leaving McCartney and Starr as primary caretakers. Every subsequent generation that discovers their music, as I did so many years ago, sees and hears the genius behind it.
For myself, taking the time to write about their recorded output has been a lot of fun. Striving to provide a more objective overview of their work, I really wanted to avoid the myths and focus on both their strengths and weaknesses as writers. Now, with the re-mastering and re-release of their entire catalogue, they are once again the top selling artists on the planet at the time of this writing.
Following the tension filled months that produced the White Album, the usual enthusiasm for group related business all but disappeared. Apple Corporation, originally conceived by Brian Epstein as a structure to help shelter Beatle revenue from Britain’s excessive 96 percent tax on top earners had been expanded to encompass a record label (with EMI still handling distribution), film division and an extremely wasteful electronics component headed by self-proclaimed inventor, Alexis Madras aka “Magic Alex”.
Only the record label saw any profit, while the rest of the operation squandered money at an alarming rate. What John and Paul had initially touted as a form of Western Communism ended up as a vehicle for every type of lunatic idea that you could possibly imagine. According to Lennon, those in the inner sanctum were, “living off of them, eating and drinking like it was Rome."
Utopia was nowhere in sight.
Amidst all of this, McCartney thought that he would make a last ditch effort at rallying the band around a new project to kick off 1969. The plan seemed simple enough. Rehearse and record new songs, then take the stage to perform the material live in concert at London ’s Roundhouse theatre and broadcast the result.
This was not to be.
Returning to the two guitars/bass and drums format and performing tracks live was one thing. Allowing a film crew to document the entire episode was a miscalculation. Even in the best of circumstances, arguments will ensue amongst groups involved in a creative endeavor. Had they considered the matter more closely, they could have compromised and just did a concert movie when they were ready to go.
Hindsight is that special place from which the view is always crystal clear
Still battle weary from the previous year, they trooped into Twickenham Film Studios on January 2, 1969. Hours of footage reveal a group of people whose relations are in shambles. There are some genuinely spontaneous moments involving jams on old rock and R & B standards and the usual silliness that people who have been close for a long time are wont to indulge in. The banter seems quite forced though, no doubt mustered for the benefit of the camera. Harrison is sullen throughout, quite disinterested in anything on the agenda. Lennon seems glassy eyed and semi-stoned, with his soon-to-be wife ever present. Ringo sits patiently while the discussions ramble on around him, weary but hitting his mark when the music starts. Paul plays the role of musical director, cheerleader and seems to be the lone interested party in the whole undertaking. His bossiness ignited George’s temper early on, though it was a violent argument with Lennon, during which punches were thrown, that caused Harrison to pack up his guitar and quit the scene for a few days.
What began as a promising idea to ease the band back into live performance, quickly dissolved into bitter acrimony.
Despite the tension, there was still excellent material on the table. It’s a pity that they weren’t treating the work with the same degree of care as they had previously. Paul had two outstanding contributions in “Let It Be” and “The Long and Winding Road” that were seriously compromised by the “play it live and capture the take” philosophy. His move to piano for these performances meant that bass duties fell into John’s lap and his playing was sloppy and careless, at best. Further to this, he openly disliked these selections, mocking the quasi religious style of "Let It Be". Lennon came up with some bizarre parody lyrics (squeaking turds of whiskey over me) and at one point was noisily barking "Boof! Boof! Boof!" instead of the harmony part that he should have been singing.
They still managed to record a lot of good music.
“Get Back” went through several changes in arrangement and lyrical content before it was deemed finished. Inspired by busking Canned Heat’s “Going Up the Country” and the vocal mannerisms used in that tune, Paul turns in one of their late period gems, featuring great, nimble fingered electric piano solos from Billy Preston. Ringo drives the band with a snappy, snare driven gallop, while both Harrison and McCartney employ very economic lines to support the rhythm. Lennon takes up the lead and creates very tasteful coloring along with his signature solo.
Before settling on the brief sketch involving Jo Jo and Sweet Loretta, “Get Back” had “joke” lyrics that amounted to a parody of the anti-immigration rants of British politician Enoch Powell. Bootleg releases pegged the early takes of the song with the politically incorrect title of “No Pakistanis”. Another version was sung entirely in Reeperbahn German, while the most entertaining of these is one that has Paul laughing throughout. One composing trick that they often used was to employ nonsense words over a new melody line, with an eye toward replacing them when inspiration struck. This would keep the arrangement intact until the final draft was in place.
Regardless of how it took shape, the end result topped singles charts worldwide and sold by the truckload.
Billy Preston's presence made a huge difference.
John brought in “Don’t Let Me Down”, which benefited greatly from the band’s input. Straightforward and impassioned, it is among the first of many songs that would be addressed directly to Ms. Ono. Lennon’s raw vocal is balanced by some nice three part harmony on the chorus, while the musical structure of the bridge has McCartney’s fingerprints all over it. His busy bass fretwork is, complete with octave leaps, a great complement to Starr’s subtle cymbal work. Preston weighs in with tasteful keys to lift the piece even higher. The rooftop performance of this is one of the high points of the Let It Be film, even if John forgets a line and quickly ad-libs some gibberish to fill the gap. George Harrison was heavily influenced by Robbie Robertson’s style of playing at this time, having spent the latter part of ’68 in Woodstock , hanging out with Dylan and the Band. Robertson himself was, in turn, emulating Curtis Mayfield’s instrumental touches. Have a listen to the opening riff and much of the guitar coloring in “Don’t Let Me Down” and you’ll hear very definite evidence of this.
Remarkably, this was relegated to the B-side of the “Get Back” single.
If you really delve into the reams of film and tape that comprise the Get Back Saga, there are some very interesting curios to be found. You do have to wade through interminable reels of discussion and endless takes of “Dig a Pony” to find them though. Should you happen to get your hands on the multi-disc bootleg set (The Get Back Journals) and start cursing Paul out for take 67 of any particular song, you’re blaming the wrong Beatle for your indisposition.
It was John Lennon who pushed the band to strictly adhere to the “live with no overdubs” routine and therefore he was responsible for adding hours of frustration to an already gloomy atmosphere.
Dredging up “Across the Universe” was symptomatic of Lennon’s resistance to present new material. It is a truly decent song, though a definitive treatment was not achieved in the first attempts to record it the previous year. They fared no better during these sessions. Ultimately, what you hear on “Let It Be” is the same version that landed on the “Our World” compilation back in ’68. When Phil Spector was brought in to do reconstructive surgery on the Get Back tapes, he took the original recording, slowed it down, removed the bird sound effects, high backing vocals, added strings and choral voices and made it slightly more tolerable.
Arguably, a much better arrangement could have been hit upon if they had employed the same tough-minded approach to crafting the songs as in the early days. Getting back to the roots would have worked much better if everyone was willing to put in the effort.
Harrison offered up a number of great songs for inclusion, only to be denied due to the already full slate of John and Paul’s compositions. “For You Blue” is a forgettable 12 bar blues, with some wonky slide playing from Lennon and “I Me Mine” is interesting, although neither were of the standard of the majestic songs with which he would fill All Things Must Pass in 1970.
Things weren’t all bad during this time. “I’ve Got a Feeling” was a true collaborative effort, taking John’s “Everybody Had a Hard Year” fragment and welding it together with the main body of Paul’s idea. This “Frankensong” turned out pretty well and is one of the better rock tunes in the set. “One After 909” dated back to a very early chapter of the Lennon/McCartney songbook and its 1969 revival is light years ahead of the clumsy recording that they made in 1963, which was wisely taken no further. That discarded take was made available (officially) with the first installment of their six disc Anthology series.
Speaking of 1963, “Two of Us” started out as a musical ringer of the style that they made famous as Beatlemania first made its way across the UK and into Europe . John and Paul share a mic and some laughs as Paul sings the bridge in an exaggerated Elvis impersonation. Ringo slides back into Merseybeat mode with those famous drum stutters on snare and high hats that punctuated earlier tunes like “I Want to Hold Your Hand” and “Twist and Shout”. This arrangement was soon abandoned in favor of a slower, more folk/acoustic approach, with bittersweet lyrics that almost sound like Paul is making one last attempt to reach out to his soon to be estranged musical partner.
You and I have memories, longer than the road that stretches out ahead.
McCartney has said that much of the subject matter was inspired by his (then) new relationship with Linda Eastman. Lines like the one above don’t seem to fit that scenario. Whatever the intent, it is a very underrated song with excellent Everly Brothers harmonies. They even saw fit to launch into “Bye Bye Love” following one of the many rehearsals devoted to this one and you can hear Paul throw in a “Take it, Phil”, jokingly referring to Phil Everly in one rendition.
When editing the “Let It Be” film, it seems that many light hearted moments were removed by director Michael Lindsay Hogg.
Pure emotion seems to ooze from every part of Paul’s “The Long and Winding Road ”. Featuring poignant lines, it could almost be construed as another message to John regarding the crossroads that they had reached in their creative partnership. This is not established nor has the author offered any insight as to what inspired him to write this heartfelt piece. Demoed in late 1968 (with the only copy given to Alastair Taylor as gift for his wife), the full band treatment given to the song during the sessions in ’69 is excellent with the exception of John’s bass part, which sounds as if he’s wandering around in an attempt to find the notes. He really should have listened a bit more closely to what McCartney was offering, though it’s probably fair to say that coming up with an inventive bass figure for a tune that he wasn’t particularly excited about was quite low on his list of priorities. More than likely, with Billy Preston on hand, they may have planned to have him play piano and thus, move Paul back to bass for the filmed performance. (This didn’t pan out, though)
When Phil Spector was working with the track, his solution to the weak bass performance was to simply bury it in an avalanche of syrupy strings and choral voices. Interestingly enough, at the same time that Phil was doing orchestral overdubs, McCartney was in a studio down the hall putting the finishing touches on his self titled debut solo album. Had anyone cared to ask, McCartney could have re-recorded the bass part. Ringo came in around that time to do some tracking of percussion with Phil, though relations in the Beatles camp were poisonous at that point with Paul very close to making the announcement that he was leaving the group. He would also unsuccessfully try to block this version of the song for release. Despite Spector’s augmentation, the song would be the last Beatle single and another number one.
This was all about a year and change away from the original sessions.
Glyn Johns was first tasked with assembling a listenable album out of the hours of tape that were produced by the group. John and Paul reportedly pointed to the endless reels that had piled up and pretty much said, “There they are, go to it.” Working with instructions to maintain the “live with no overdubs” edict, he assembled the first mix of Get Back and submitted it for the band’s approval.
Lennon: "The tape ended up like the bootleg version. We didn’t want to know about it anymore, so we just left it to Glyn Johns and said, ‘Here, mix it.’That was the first time since the first album that we didn’t want to have anything to do with it. None of us could be bothered going in. Nobody called anybody about it, and the tapes were left there. Glyn Johns did it. We got an acetate in the mail and we called each other and said, “What do you think?” We were going to let it out in really shitty condition. I didn’t care. I thought it was good to let it out and show people what had happened to us, we can’t get it together; we don’t play together any more; you know, leave us alone. The bootleg version is what it was like, and everyone was probably thinking they’re not going to work on it. There were 29 hours of tape, so much that it was like a movie. Twenty takes of everything, because we were rehearsing and taking everything. Nobody could face looking at it."
It’s not hard to see why they balked at releasing it in this form. I have a vinyl bootleg copy of that version and “flat” is the best description of the performances contained therein. Embarrassing, considering the high standard that they had maintained throughout their recording history. Johns did what he could with the material, though what it really needed was editing and re-tracking of parts, which was strictly ruled out, if only for the time being. He prepared a second mix, which again was not deemed fit for public consumption.
In the meantime, months rolled by and the Beatles decided to scrap work on the project in favor of making a new record, titled after the very street on which stood the iconic building where they had spent much of the decade producing music that the entire world would embrace. This would present a dilemma for the quartet as they now had two full length discs in the can. Get Back stayed on the shelf while the accompanying film was being edited.
The sheer volume of songs that were attempted and recorded during this period is staggering. Determined to hear 1969 updates of “Love Me Do” and covers of Dylan tunes plus future Beatle solo songs worked up by the group, I sought out as much bootlegged material as I could find. One of the first half decent ones that I scored was a fair sounding record called Watching Rainbows. It had lo-fi jams of “ All Things Must Pass ”, “Mean Mr. Mustard” and some undeveloped Lennon tunes (“Madman”, “Watching Rainbows”) though it was pretty entertaining overall.
Warning: Some of the selections from these sessions may look great on paper but a lot add up to nothing more than jokey snippets, half assed attempts at things that trail off and a lot of “I don’t know the words, but let’s do this anyway”.
You could assemble a pretty decent compilation of complete and listenable takes without too much effort as the material is much more readily available, thanks to the internet revolution. If you are extremely tenacious and enjoy all of the extended discussion and silliness that comes with working out musical ideas, it’s at your fingertips.
LET IT BE
Decisions were made to upgrade the finished product from television documentary to the big screen and call it “Let It Be”. Having worked with Lennon on his “Instant Karma” single in early 1970, Phil Spector was then asked to take the year old tapes and try to spin straw into gold.
Handing a stripped down, back to basics group of tapes to one of the most notorious over-producers in the business may have seemed like quite a contradictory move, though Spector’s work was pretty decent overall. Only his treatment of “The Long and Winding Road ” and “Across the Universe” come across as bloated missteps. He used the best rooftop takes, did a nice job on “Two of Us” and chopped out the useless ”all I want is you” passages that prefaced the verses in “Dig A Pony”. Phil’s handling of “I Me Mine” was clever as well, extending the song by adding a repeat of the chorus.
In short, he put the best face on the material that he was given. His burying technique on “The Long and Winding Road ”, while overly syrupy, did cover the horrendous bass mistakes, though McCartney was right in his assertion that his work was being tampered with. The Disney choir and kitchen sink augmentation really robbed the song of personality.
Let It Be (the album) was released in May of 1970 in conjunction with the movie. Initially, it hit the stores as a box set with a fantastic 160 page book containing great photos, courtesy of Ethan Russell, and dialogue from the film. It was then slimmed down to a gatefold sleeve (no book) and later issues eliminated the fold out jacket.
The group was officially pronounced dead a month prior to this, though they had really been cold since the completion of Abbey Road.
They should have cleaned up the rooftop concert and put that out in it's entirety.
Hey, where was the film crew when Revolver was being recorded?
Let It Be captures flashes of the spark that pushed this brilliant musical aggregation to unprecedented heights, though their lack of interest in the project ultimately precluded it from being their best work.
Epilogue: Hey, it's 2003. Pack a flashlight, a couple of shovels and follow me.
McCartney’s desire to deal with unfinished business (and settle scores) was one of the main drivers of the Let It Be…Naked project, which frankly happened because George had by this time joined Lennon in the “great beyond”. Paul was now free to have Phil Spector’s work undone, assembling a team to remove the layers of orchestration from the masters and cleverly restore some of the original takes through the magic of Pro Tools editing software. This mainly involved fixing bass parts and cleaning up some of the rough edges ( i.e. welding an exceptional portion of take 23 on to take 54.)
End result?
Quite listenable, though they should have ditched the useless “fly on the wall” disc and included one that was packed with jams, the complete rooftop concert or any number of gems that currently sit in the EMI vaults. Arguably, this is the most documented period of their storied career, so there is much to draw on.
Perhaps now that the box sets have hit the stores, the good people at Apple could get serious about assembling a more palatable version of the Let it Be movie for DVD release, include all of the fun footage and give collectors something of value to spend their hard earned dollars on.
Just a thought.
There's a great bootleg of a radio broadcast of the Get back album, complete with commercials from that time. What was it called and which radio station originally aired the LP?
Glancing at the cover of this colorful soundtrack LP, you'll notice that the cartoon John Lennon seems to be thoroughly enjoying the Dio concert that he's attending in his mind.
Fifteen years before that band was even formed!
Quite a visionary.
Contractual obligation reared its ugly head once again in the form of a film commitment. This time out, the band would not even have to act naturally. (or talk, as actors voiced their parts) United Artists and King Features produced an animated film based on the perceived image of the lads circa 1967. Yellow Submarine was a huge smash with critics and fans in the summer of 1968 and still holds up as a pretty entertaining flick. The Beatles were only marginally involved in this project, appearing briefly at the end in a short (cheesy) scripted segment.
Their musical contribution was also slight, to say the least, as they dug up three rejected tunes from sessions dating back to spring/summer of ’67. The fourth "new" song, cut at the same time as the “Lady Madonna” single in February 1968, is the highlight. "Hey Bulldog" is an excellent, off the cuff Lennon tune with a cutting solo courtesy of Harrison’s SG. The brooding, bluesy piano /guitar riff and some wild vocal improvisation at the end make this a fun tune to listen to. McCartney's bass lines are first rate.
Georges Harrison and Martin feature prominently on this record, with the whole second side devoted to the orchestrations of the latter. Harrison ’s two tunes don’t amount to much, though I do love the bass work on “Only A Northern Song”, which was rejected for inclusion on Sgt. Pepper. Somewhat cynical in tone, the lyrics reflect the malaise associated with his diminished role within the group during that time. “It’s All Too Much” has a terrific feedback-laden intro and then proceeds to drone on for a while with the over simplistic summations of one who is entranced by the lysergic experience, but doesn’t quite know how to put the whole thing into words. The whimsical and childlike appraisal of the sensory disruption caused by acid seemed to be much more prevalent in the approach of English writers. Syd Barrett's work on "Piper At the Gates of Dawn" is very much in this vein.
Show me that I'm everywhere and get me home for tea
Adding “Yellow Submarine” and “All You Need Is Love” really didn’t amount to anything of value for collectors, although the stereo master for John’s anthem was used here instead of the poor, “electronically reprocessed stereo” copy that landed on the US version of Magical Mystery Tour.
Word has it that a five song EP release was originally planned, which would have used the four new songs, plus “Across the Universe”. This actually reached the mastering stage before it was decided to include additional material and release the whole mess as a full length album, with “Universe” scratched from the list.
This project was not something that was taken seriously by the group. When initially informed about it, their response was to file any garbage that they recorded and set it aside for the soundtrack.
Mission accomplished.
Curiously, the late 90s saw a major reconstruction of all of the Beatle tracks that were originally featured in the movie. The work involved both remixing and remastering these tunes, ditching the George Martin instrumentals and putting out a new CD (Yellow Submarine" Songtrack") that would serve a s a compliment to the refurbished digital re-release of the movie.
Time well spent.
There are two distinct differences between the original US and UK issues and their corresponding album cover art. What are they? Did this LP hit number one?
