If The Beatles Hadn’t Broken Up, Part 2 of 8

Having had so much fun with the first installment of this self-indulgent nonsense, I went ahead and constructed a fictional Beatles album that might have been released in 1971.

Wild Life
side one:

  1. Jealous Guy (Lennon) – Familiar to the other Beatles as ‘Child Of Nature’ from the 1968 Kinfauns demo sessions, ‘Jealous Guy’ was rewritten as a quiet admission of imperfection from John to Yoko. (Though Imagine would open with that title track, I find ‘Jealous Guy’ to be a far more effective opener.)
  2. Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey (McCartney) – Paul would write two lengthy “production” numbers on Wild Life – ‘The Back Seat Of My Car’ and this, yet another installment in what John would derisively put down as “Paul’s granny shit”.
  3. Wah-Wah (Harrison) – This thinly-veiled swipe at Paul was written following their well-documented “I’ll play what you want me to play, or I won’t play at all” argument in the Let It Be film, so it might be a little difficult imagining this gaining a spot on a Beatles album. But it’s such a powerful rock song that I can’t imagine it not on an album, so here it is.
  4. Imagine (Lennon) – A well-known and now famous plea for unified, worldwide peace – though John would later find its acceptance so astonishing, as it’s “anti-religious, anti-nationalistic, anti-conventional, anti-capitalistic, but because it’s sugar-coated, it’s accepted” – would probably have retained its simplistic arrangement within the Beatles.
  5. I Don’t Want To Be A Soldier, Mama, I Don’t Want To Die (Lennon) – Alluding to John’s increasing interest in left-wing radical politics, this lengthy diatribe against the Vietnam War would probably have been met with some opposition from the others – and I could even imagine John wanting to be bold and opening the album with it – but Paul especially liked to rattle the cage from time to time.

side two:

  1. Ram On (McCartney) – Heralding the more acoustic/country-inspired side two, ‘Ram On’ was a callback to ‘Wild Honey Pie’, and was performed entirely by Paul, with the ukulele being the dominant instrument.
  2. Early 1970 (Starkey) – Much like ‘Ram On’, Ringo performed this humorous and slightly self-deprecatory ditty almost entirely by himself with some help from George.
  3. Heart Of The Country (McCartney) – Extolling the virtues of getting away from the hustle and bustle of the city and to live a simpler life in the country, this is a light and breezy acoustic song that recalls some of the more laid-back moments from the “White Album”.
  4. Apple Scruffs (Harrison) – Written about the infamous group of female fans who took fanaticism to a great degree – Paul wrote ‘She Came In Through The Bathroom Window’ after one of them swiped a pair of pants and a framed photograph – this song features some wheezy harmonica, which ties in nicely with…
  5. Oh Yoko! (Lennon) – …this ode to Yoko, which finds John in a romantic mood. Nicky Hopkins returns for some delightful piano tinkling.
  6. Ram On (reprise) (McCartney) – A reprise of ‘Ram On’, nicely tying together the more relaxed Side Two.
  7. The Back Seat Of My Car (McCartney) – This production number – “the ultimate teenage number,” as Paul later called it – reignited the playful creative rivalry with the Beach Boys. With several musical shifts, orchestral arrangements, and layers and layers of backing vocals, ‘The Back Seat Of My Car’ is an obvious album closer.

Singles:
‘Jealous Guy’ / ‘Early 1970′
‘Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey’ / ‘Apple Scruffs’
‘Imagine’ / ‘The Back Seat Of My Car’

In conclusion: I like the flow of this a little album a little more than I do When Four Knights Come To Town, and I especially like the idea that the second side would be linked, with country-ish sounding songs tied together by Paul’s unconventional links, and the concluding production number – a sort of nod back to Sgt. Pepper and Abbey Road.


If The Beatles Hadn’t Broken Up, Part 1 of 8

A little over two years ago, I wrote an entry about a “lost” Beatles album that was clearly a barely disguised album of mixes. It was creative and almost listenable, but the hokey story about inter-dimensional time travel destroyed a lot of its credibility. In that entry, I recalled a website that I frequented at the turn of the millennium, but assumed it had been lost forever to the vast repository that is the Internet – but thanks to some particularly industrious searching on my part, I finally found it, and was transported immediately back to 1998, when I wished that I had all of the albums the author was talking about.

Now that I’m older, and the availability of music has increased exponentially, I’m finally able to revisit this idea, and come up with some of my own albums, had the Beatles not broken up in 1970. Looking around on other WordPress sites, I see this was also addressed by Allyn Gibson, who offered up a fascinating account of what a fictional Beatles album would have looked like in 1970. But I wanted to give it a shot myself, and not only do what I thought would have been a good fictional Beatles album, but also continue on throughout the 1970s and early 1980s.

First, the assumptions: Get Back was released as intended in March/April 1969, and Abbey Road followed in October 1969. (The singles for these were ‘Get Back’ / ‘Don’t Let Me Down’ in March, ‘Let It Be’ / ‘You Know My Name’ in May, ‘The Ballad Of John And Yoko’ / ‘Old Brown Shoe’ in July, and ‘Something’ / ‘Come Together’ in September.) After working through their infamous differences, the Beatles took some time off, wrote a bunch of songs – Paul escaped to Scotland and later released ‘Another Day’ / ‘Oh Woman, Oh Why’, John released solo singles (‘Cold Turkey’ and ‘Instant Karma!’), Ringo released two covers albums, and George toured with Eric Clapton; all four got their creative juices out, bitched at each other in the press a bit, but ultimately realized the sum was greater than the parts, and got the band back together to work on some further albums.

I realize this is borderline musical fanfic, and for that I apologize, but it is fun to imagine what could have been. So, let’s get right to work!

When Four Knights Come To Town
side one:

  1. Oo You (McCartney) – I liked Gibson’s suggestion that ‘Oo You’ sounds like an album opener, with Paul goofing around and mumbling, “More guitar”. It’s an inconsequential song, but its gritty production and throwaway lyric would balance some of the weightier stuff that was coming up.
  2. It Don’t Come Easy (Starkey) – The first “real” song, and a deserving number two spot. Ringo’s songwriting had gotten better over the years, so much so that ‘It Don’t Come Easy’ (cowritten with George, but credited solely to Ringo) was released as Ringo’s first Beatles song, with ‘My Sweet Lord’ as a double A-side. (I’m aware this wasn’t released until 1971, but hey, it’s my fantasy, dammit!)
  3. Remember (Lennon) – Lyrically this is a drastic comedown from the previous track, but its boogie shuffle keeps the tempo up, with some spirited piano from John and particularly propulsive drumming from Ringo.
  4. Every Night (McCartney) – Paul admits his preference of a life of ease: slacking off during the day and getting shitfaced at night. This goes against his workmanlike attitude, of course, but any opportunity to blow off some steam is a good thing – until he alters his position with “Every night I want to stay home / And be with you”.
  5. Look At Me (Lennon) – This stark confessional of John and Yoko’s relationship and how he views himself was performed entirely by John, much like ‘Julia’ on The Beatles (the same time period from which the song dates).
  6. Isn’t It A Pity (Harrison) – George attempts an updated ‘Hey Jude’, with interesting results. An obvious side closer, with its drawn-out fade-out, ‘Isn’t It A Pity’ was written back in 1966 but rejected, and was tried out again during the Get Back sessions; turns out the third time was the charm.

side two:

  1. Love (Lennon) – With John on acoustic guitar and Phil Spector on piano, ‘Love’ is the perfect introduction to side two, with its lengthy piano intro and simplistic take on the reality of romance.
  2. My Sweet Lord (Harrison) – George gets religious, and the results are inspiring – but unfortunately he got into a bit of trouble with the songwriters of ‘He’s So Fine’. Despite that, it would have been an obvious candidate to not only be recorded by the Beatles, but also released as a single – as a double A-side with ‘It Don’t Come Easy’, perhaps.
  3. Man We Was Lonely (McCartney) – Written following some inter-band bitching, this simplistic, homespun song assures listeners that, despite the Beatles’ differences, “now we’re fine all the while”.
  4. I Found Out (Lennon) – Disenchanted with peace and love and Hare Krishna, John offers this simplistic blues riffer that was bound to piss off the other three Beatles.
  5. All Things Must Pass (Harrison) – From the basic to the bombastic, ‘All Things Must Pass’ is one of George’s loveliest songs; bathed in echo and ringing acoustic guitars, the song leads perfectly into…
  6. Maybe I’m Amazed (McCartney) – …a beautiful out-and-out love song written about Linda. I agree with Gibson that ‘Maybe I’m Amazed’ is the best possible album closer, and serves as a wonderful double wallop with ‘All Things Must Pass’. Out of the ashes of despair comes love.

Singles:
‘It Don’t Come Easy’ / ‘My Sweet Lord’ (double A-side)
‘Maybe I’m Amazed’ / ‘Look At Me’

In conclusion: Not a perfect album, of course, given Paul’s homespun solo performances, John’s bare-bones primal therapy-inspired confessionals, and George’s Wall of Sound production numbers, but these contrasting sounds bounce off each other nicely. (The title, for anyone interested, was the working title of Ringo’s ‘Early 1970′.) Most importantly, I had a lot of fun doing this, and it’s a really interesting mix of songs – so keep an eye out for my next installment!


The Beatles: Everyday Chemistry

Something that I find myself doing from time to time is creating “lost” Beatles albums, and placing them in the realm of the actual Beatles’ output. I got the idea from a pretty nifty GeoCities website (which is probably long gone by this point) many, many years ago (mid-1990s or thereabouts), where an enterprising young Beatles fan collected all of the solo material released by the Beatles into a cohesive album. The juxtaposition of songs – Lennon’s edgier, politically-charged stuff; Harrison’s cerebral, mystical stuff; McCartney’s catchy, lightweight stuff; Starr’s, uh… stuff – was interesting, and while it’s clear that most of the songs wouldn’t have been written if the Beatles never broke up, it’s a nice way to waste time and make a mix CD, which is something that I like to do.

So I was intrigued to stumble upon this website, which alleges that the lucky, anonymous person found an unreleased Beatles album. I say I was intrigued not because I believed this allegation (any Beatles fan knows that if there was an unreleased Beatles album sitting around for all these years, it either would have been bootlegged or released by Apple Records; even an unreleased Beatles album is guaranteed to be a major unit shifter, and Apple knows that) but because it might have been some mildly interesting unreleased tidbits from, say, the Get Back/Let It Be sessions, or maybe some unearthed tracks from the 1968 Kinfaus demo sessions, or even from the famed 1974 meet-up of Lennon and McCartney that was bootlegged as A Toot and a Snore in ’74.

Having read through the website a bit more, I was disappointed; again, not because I was expecting anything earth-shattering, but because the guy in question (one “James Richard”) seems to have ruined it all with a bogus story of being knocked unconscious in a desert and taken to a parallel universe where Lennon and Harrison are still alive, Yoko Ono isn’t a big presence in Lennon’s life, and the Beatles are still together, recording albums and touring behind them. The mystery man who told him this had about four cassette tapes of completely unreleased Beatles albums (I guess in the parallel universe, they’re still a few decades behind, technologically), so “Mr. Richard” hatched a crazy scheme to snag one of the unreleased albums, Everyday Chemistry, and bring it back to this universe.

I, for one, tend not to believe anyone when they preface anything with “I dont [sic] expect you to believe what happened to me, I sure wouldn’t, but thats [sic] why I grabbed the tape as proof that my experience was real.” Deciding I needed some new tunes to listen to, I played the songs – on the feller’s bandwidth! – so that I could hear for myself what exactly was going on here.

Of course it’s not an unreleased Beatles album, nor is it Klaatu; it’s a moderately well-done mash-up, a la the Love album from a few years ago, of the Beatles’ separate solo songs. The first tune, ‘Four Guys’, uses the guitar riff and chorus of ‘Band On The Run’, and quotes heavily from ‘When We Was Fab’; track 3, ‘Anybody Else’, is built around McCartney’s ‘Somedays’. (“Mr. Richard” claims that the album was released in the late ’70s or mid ’80s, but as ‘Somedays’ was released in 1997, I find this a little dubious, unless, of course, in a parallel universe, musicians are able to release songs decades before they were written or recorded.) One of the most enjoyable ones that I listened to on random was ‘Sick to Death’, which fuses Lennon’s ‘Gimme Some Truth’ to the piano opening of Harrison’s ‘Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea’, turning Lennon’s vitriolic original into an almost New Orleans-esque rave-up. (There are other solo Beatles songs interspersed throughout, though I’m only mentioning what I recognize, as I’m not well-versed in Starr’s solo career, and I’m even a little hazy on most of Lennon’s and Harrison’s[1].) The thing is, it’s actually not that bad of a listening experience; the pieces work together quite well, even if it gets quite repetitive quite quickly, making repeated listens unnecessary and unwelcome.

I know that writing an entire blog post about this is just giving “Mr. Richard” what he wants – attention – but it sounds like he went to a lot of effort to create this, and it deserves a listen, even if it’s just essentially a very creative mix tape. I only wish he would drop the parallel universe bullshit; it worked for the Beatles back in the ’60s, but that was only because they were consuming vast amounts of LSD and weed. The only parallel universe this guy was visiting was the ProTools Universe, and it sounds like he was there for an afternoon, at the most.

[1]If anyone listens to the entire thing and has the time to figure out what comes from what, feel free to post here and I’ll send you something as a reward. Probably just a burned copy of Everyday Chemistry… or maybe I can drive out to a desert, knock myself unconscious, and steal another unreleased Beatles album from the mysterious Jonas. “Mr. Richard” said that “I wish I grabbed this other tape that had a song very similiar [sic] to “Imagine” on it that Jonas played, only it sounded like it had a big band behind it with horns and huge orchestral sections, though the lyrics were practically identical to the original “Imagine”", so maybe I can grab that and burn it for you.

Essential listening: oh come on, you can’t be serious?


John Lennon: John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band

John Lennon’s solo career is probably the dodgiest of the former Beatles; only Paul McCartney would go on to great success, while George Harrison never took his solo career seriously (let’s not even get into Ringo Starr’s albums). Yet he explored the most extreme sides of music, thanks in whole to Yoko Ono, ever pushing the envelope of what is considered good taste and what is just being weird for the sake of being weird. Unfortunately, it backfired in 1972, with the release of his Sometime In New York City album, which was shrouded in controversy because of the couple’s association with Yippie politicos and an extended fight against Richard Nixon’s U.S.A. to stay in the country. But that’s a story for another review.

Plastic Ono Band was not Lennon’s first solo album; that honor, dubious as it may be, goes to Two Virgins, an avant garde / experimental piece of plastic that was more notorious for its sleeve of Lennon and Ono in their birthday suits. (Starr to Lennon, upon first viewing the finished cover, and with thirty years of hindsight: “I pointed to The Times and said, ‘Oh, you’ve even got The Times in it!’, like his dick wasn’t hanging out.”) Plastic Ono Band isn’t even his first attempt to lay down true rock ‘n’ roll; that honor goes to Live Peace In Toronto, a live album recorded by the first incarnation of the Plastic Ono Band (Lennon, Ono, Eric Clapton, Klaus Voorman, and Alan White). But what Plastic Ono Band IS is Lennon’s first studio album to feature songs in the most conventional way, even if the songs themselves are anything but conventional.

Written and recorded following the tumultuous breakup of The Beatles, the album was the direct result of Lennon and Ono working out their frustrations with primal scream therapy. Therapist Dr Arthur Janov worked for four months with the couple to talk about any repressed memories the two had; Lennon’s major beef stemmed from childhood fears of being abandoned, though the death of his mother, Julia, was also addressed without kid gloves. This is apparent in the opening track of the album, ‘Mother’, which snowballs all of Lennon’s repression into a painful five and a half minutes: starting as a plaintive, piano-based ballad, the song is a slow burn of anger and emotion, with Lennon letting loose over the loss of his mother and the abandonment of his father, so that the final 90 seconds are little more than him screaming. It’s obvious this isn’t going to be an easy album to listen to, or even come close to the bubblegum pop days of The Beatles.

Most of the songs on the album were written and recorded on piano, but ‘Hold On’ is one of the few to be dominated by guitar – heavily tremoloed electric guitar, at that. The song slips into a languid pace, and is a lyrical reassurance from Lennon to himself and his wife that everything will be alright. ‘I Found Out’, another guitar-based song, is intensely angry and personal, with Lennon scowling bitter lyrics about his disillusionment with the world, organized religion, and even his former bandmates (“I seen religion from Jesus to Paul” is not only a reference to Paul the Apostle, but also McCartney and The Beatles’ view in others’ eyes as being gods). Perhaps the best-known song on the album is ‘Working Class Hero’, sounding like a Dylan protest song, though Lennon is far angrier here, spitting out the words with vile contemptment over the class division that plagued him throughout his childhood and teenage years. It’s an intimate recording, with Lennon perched in front of a microphone and wielding an acoustic guitar, singing in a natural voice and dropping the occasional four-letter expletive to punctuate his anger.

A trio of one-word song titles begins with ‘Isolation’, a lilting piano ballad with Lennon reminding us that, no matter how hard we try, we’ll always remain alone in this world. He sings with a resigned weariness, as if he accepts what he’s come to believe, even if others don’t quite understand it. ‘Remember’, meanwhile, was inspired by Lennon’s primal therapy, where Janov got the former Beatle to drudge up memories of his past that he didn’t particularly want to recall. A quote from the poem “Remember, Remember, The Fifth of November”, known to Great Britain as Guy Fawkes’ day, concludes the song, with an apt explosion. There’s a lot of simplistic lyrics on the album, with none of the drug-induced imagery that Lennon used on his latter Beatles songs, and very little wordplay or humor of his earlier songs; ‘Love’ is probably the most basic song of them all on the album, but is one of the most effective. With a long faded-up intro, Lennon delivers an emotive ballad, with the only musicians being him on acoustic guitar and album producer Phil Spector on piano (other musicians on the album include Ringo Starr on drums, Klaus Voorman on bass, and Billy Preston on occasional piano and organ), and says nothing more than the contradictions of love. If you’re in love at the moment, then the song can make you feel an overwhelming sense of joy and understanding; if you’re not in love, it can make you feel lonely and depressed. There are very few songs I’ve heard that can have that kind of a polarizing effect.

‘Well Well Well’ is the grittiest and bluesiest that Lennon has ever sounded, and was another direct response to Janov’s primal scream therapy, with Lennon becoming more and more unhinged as the song progresses. Perhaps it’s the thought of intense lust and love he feels for his wife, as he delivers such double entendres as “I took my loved one out to dinner / So we could get a bite to eat / And though we both had been much thinner / She looked so beautiful I could eat her”, was the driving force for his harrowing vocal delivery. Lasting nearly six minutes, it’s by far the longest song on the album, and one of the uneasiest to listen to. ‘Look At Me’, which had been written back in 1968 and was reportedly submitted for inclusion on The Beatles (though its omission makes sense, as it sounds a whole lot like ‘Julia’), deals with identity and personality crises, with Lennon reassuring himself that as long as he has Yoko, all in the world is right.

The album wraps up with a pair of songs that are the most intense that he’d written to date (considering some of the other songs on the album, this is saying a lot). ‘God’ deals with Lennon’s abandonment of organized religion, and is divided into three parts: in the first part, he shatters his own notions of what God is by calling Him “a concept by which we measure our pain”, repeating the line again to reinforce his belief, while in the second part, he runs down a laundry list of everything he’s lost belief in. It acts as a marathon bridge burning session that becomes more personal with each passing “I don’t believe”, ultimately concluding with the tombstone on a Beatles religion: “I don’t believe in Beatles / I just believe in me / Yoko and me / And that’s reality”. The third section, effectively a coda, is poignant and mournful, with Lennon slipping into a languid falsetto, claiming that “the dream is over”. For many Beatles fans who believed at the time that a reunion was still possible, this served as a telling reminder that it was never to be.

‘My Mummy’s Dead’, meanwhile, is a brief guitar-and-voice song that sounds like it was recorded off a transistor radio; set to the melody of ‘Three Blind Mice’, Lennon delivers a basic set of lyrics over his mother’s death and how it plagued him and continues to plague him. It’s an intensely personal conclusion to an intensely personal album, and while he would never return down this path on any of his subsequent solo albums, Lennon felt some relief at getting it all out of his system. He would never be this raw again, and that’s a shame.

Essential listening: all of it, if you can handle it.


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