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5th Favorite Beatles Album: Help!

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Help!
1965, Parlophone. Producer: George Martin.
Purchased CD, Approx. 1994.

IN A NUTSHELL: Help! is the album where The Beatles started to regularly go beyond the expectations for a pop band. Acoustic numbers, folk-rock, country … all shared space with the usual lovable pop gems. Also, lyrical content matured and introspective themes appeared. The band could’ve just knocked off a few watered-down retreads for this second soundtrack in a row – it certainly would have sold. But the band took the opportunity to elevate their art and make (another) masterpiece.

NOTE: The setup – below the line ↓ – might be the best part … Or skip right to the album discussion.

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1 Over the years I’ve really surprised myself with the things that I don’t know. I’m not talking about shit like how bosons and fermions behave, or the evolutionary pathway of Ornithorhynchus anatinus, or imperialism and nationalism in early modernity: the cosmopolitan and the provincial in Shakespeare’s Cymbeline, for example. I’m talking about, like, what baked ziti is, which is something I didn’t know until well into college.

This image of a TV pathologist indicates I still may not know what chemistry is.

I’d earned a living as an analytical chemist in pharmaceutical laboratories for more than ten years when a potential employer for a job as a chemist called me for an initial discussion. As part of his screening process, he asked me to describe the difference between an acid and a base. (For you Non-Science-Types, this is about as elementary as one can get in chemistry.) All I could think to say was, “well, I know it has to do with how salts are formed.” (Again for NST’s – this is a ridiculous response.) The guy was stunned. I didn’t get the job. I didn’t even get an interview[ref]I’m just happy the guy didn’t call my then-current employer![/ref]. The point is that even topics that I supposedly know a lot about can sometimes leave me in the dark[ref]Acids are proton donors. Bases are proton acceptors. (I did just look that up to be certain.)[/ref].

2 When I was little – six and younger – I really enjoyed the TV show The Monkees. As you’re probably aware, the show featured a band, The Monkees, which was assembled by TV producers[ref]I can hear a TV exec now: “See – Beatle, with an ‘e-a.’ And Monkee, with an ‘e-e.’ The kids love this stuff!”[/ref] to capitalize on American Beatle-mania[ref]Other Beatle-inspired TV creations include The Mosquitos, a band that somehow visited Gilligan’s Island, and The Banana Splits, a group of animals that somehow learned to play instruments. And talk and sing.[/ref]. Actor/musicians Mike Nesmith, Mickey Dolenz, Davy Jones and Peter Tork auditioned for roles on the show and were assigned guitar, drums, cuteness and bass, respectively. (Only Mike and Pete really knew how to play their instruments at first. Davy and Mickey would quickly learn.)

I watched reruns, in the early evenings, with my older sisters. It felt like a “big kid” show. It was about a hip, young band, living together in a crazy house in a neighborhood with other bands, acting zany, charming the ladies, driving a cool Monkee-mobile[ref]I think more bands should have band-mobiles.[/ref] … It was everything a five-year-old in 1972 thought was cool about musicians. And that’s the thing – I liked it for the musicians, not the music. The show had catchy songs, but for years I never really thought of The Monkees as a band with songs. I thought of The Monkees as a TV show with songs.

Sometime around 1986 MTV[ref]Which I loved, although by ’86 it had already jumped the shark.[/ref] brought back reruns of The Monkees, and even got the band a new hit song (albeit with only half of the original band participating). This era also coincided with my nascent, deep, deep love for The Beatles. This is when I started to realize that The Monkees, the band, not the TV show, really had some amazing songs! The producers had hired professional songwriters – including Neil Diamond, Carol King, and Tommy Boyce & Bobby Hart – to craft Beatlesque songs (I love Beatlesque songs) for Davy Jones and Mickey Dolenz to sing. And Mike Nesmith wrote some pre-Byrds countrified rock songs to go alongside them. (By the way – the band was friendly with The Beatles, and they even used an obscure Beatle song 12 seconds into one of their shows.)

The Monkees didn’t just have hit songs, they had great hit songs. “I’m a Believer” is fun-pop perfection. “Last Train to Clarksville” is hip, and was one of the first songs to (indirectly) address The Viet Nam War. “Pleasant Valley Sunday” has a cool guitar, and speaks to the soulless boredom of suburban life. (I have no idea why Mickey’s hi-hat is where it is in that video.) “Steppin’ Stone” has a raw, garage-rock, Nuggets-y feel[ref]R.E.M. covered this song when they were a new band. I’ve read that The Monkees were Peter Buck’s favorite band.[/ref]. “Valleri” has a cool touch of psychedelia. “Daydream Believer” and “A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You” are bubblegum pop treats.

And their homage to the Fab Four (Mickey Dolenz called them “the four Kings of EMI” in a song) wasn’t lost on me. As with Ringo, The Monkees let vocally-challenged Peter sing a song sometimes. They featured really cool guitar parts on some of their album cuts, just like The Beatles did. And like their role-models, they delved into mind-expanding songs and more avant-garde stuff. So, call it an homage, call it a rip-off. Whatever you call it, The Monkees are a great, cool band.

3 I bought Help! sometime around the time I bought A Hard Day’s Night. Help! is another soundtrack to another Beatles film I only saw once. Just as I never considered The Monkees a band, I never considered The Beatles actors. I watched the films once just to see them, but never felt compelled to do so again. So I purchased Help! solely to dive into the songs, and as I made my way through the songs I was stunned to learn this fact: “I’ve Just Seen a Face” is a Beatles song, NOT a Monkees song!

I was amazed to learn this fact – especially as it came a good decade into my Beatle super-fandom. I was sure I remembered The Monkees cavorting around on the TV screen, with wacky jump-cuts of the band in kooky outfits, or goofing off on the beach, interspersed with exciting footage of Mike playing countrified guitar while Mickey drums and sings, Davy shakes maracas and harmonizes and Peter plucks the bass. I knew I’d heard a DJ intone, “That’s The Monkees, with ‘I’ve Just Seen a Face.'” I went to a record store and looked up Monkees albums to track down their version. (This was in the early internet era.) I asked all my friends. Finally, it hit me: “I’ve Just Seen a Face” was always a Beatles song, only a Beatles song, never a Monkees song. Maybe I’d been thinking of “Papa Gene’s Blues,” which is a Mike Nesmith-penned, country-ish song with quickly-sung lyrics?

I guess my long-held misapprehension could be viewed as either a testament to The Monkees or an insult to The Beatles. But my well-documented confusion is not the point here. The point is that Help! is one more incredible record by an incredible band.

“I’ve Just Seen a Face” is a good place to start when discussing the album Help! It’s a great example of just how different this record sounds from all of the band’s previous output.

It’s a finger-picking, country-tinged shuffle that would have sounded out of place on any of the earlier records. But on Help!, it fits just fine. There are no electric guitars on it, no bass guitar, and Ringo plays brushes and maracas. There is a harmony vocal – but it’s Paul singing harmony with himself. Paul’s love-at-first-sight lyrics include cascading, internal rhymes that are cleverly constructed. (“I have never known the like of this/ I’ve been alone/ And I have missed/ things and kept out of sight/ But other girls were never quite/ like this…”) I probably should’ve known all along this wasn’t The Monkees.

I don’t know if it helps my credibility to say that I’ve always known “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away,” another song that sounded nothing like previous Beatles’ efforts, was by the band!

This time it’s John who’s practically solo, playing a 12-string and singing a Bob Dylan-inspired song about the perils of love. It’s a lovely singalong song[ref]I have fond memories of Dr. Dave strumming and singing this song at a party, and dozens of folks singing along![/ref], with Ringo adding tambourine and maracas. Flutes show up, as well, some of the first non-rock instrumentation featured on a Beatles record. This is probably as good a time as any to mention the McCartney solo song “Yesterday,” which also features non-rock instruments. It’s hard to really say much about this song. It’s incredible, it’s everywhere, its simple lyrics are universally felt … it may be the most popular song ever written.

The Beatles were really stretching out for this record, a fact that makes a strong statement about the band. After the mega-success of the film and album A Hard Day’s Night, they could have easily just coasted and hacked up a few more sound-clone ditties. Instead, right off the top, they open with a pop song unlike any that had been heard before: “Help!”

For one thing, the lyrics are very raw and honest, even though most pop fans probably didn’t think much about their meaning. But most of all, the contrapuntal melody sung by Paul was a technique unheard of in a 3-minute teeny-bopper record. George plays a cool descending riff (first heard at 0:09). John’s acoustic strumming on the song is really great, and Ringo’s drumming drives it all. I love his use of toms, not to mention his tambourine in the chorus. The vocal harmonies are awesome, including the finale “ooo.”

Ringo’s drumming is great throughout, but let’s not forget his vocals! He gets a lead vocal on the Buck Owens classic “Act Naturally.” He does a great job on humorous lyrics about being a loser in love, and Paul’s harmonies enhance it all. George also gets a couple tracks of his own this time around, including the standout “I Need You.”

The best parts of this song are Paul’s bass and George’s electric guitar, its sound augmented by a volume pedal. Ringo breaks out his cowbell, and actually played acoustic guitar on the track – that is he played percussion on the back of an acoustic while John played a snare drum! Paul’s harmonies are terrific, and George nails his love song lyrics. It’s one of my favorite George songs. One of my least favorite is his other offering on Help!, “You Like Me Too Much,” a song about being a jerk. I think if it had appeared on Please Please Me or Beatles For Sale I may have more tolerance for it. But it’s rather simple, and the “I really do!” in the bridge is almost amateurish. But the chord changes are nice, and George is great, so I won’t say anything more.

Besides “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away” and the title track, Lennon also gets introspective on the love song “It’s Only Love.”

Harrison plays a cool electric guitar part throughout – both rhythm and subtle leads – and the acoustic strumming (both George and John are credited on acoustic) is fantastic. Ringo breaks out his trusty tambourine again. Lennon is in fine voice (he even rolls an “r” in the word “bright” for some Lennon-y reason) and it’s a truly lovely song. I also like his “You’re Going to Lose That Girl,” a warning to a friend that turns into a warning about himself! Excellent three-part harmony here, with George and Paul tearing it up, particularly in the bridge! Ringo breaks out bongoes, and I’m starting to realize that this entire album could be capably reproduced by a few folks around a fire with acoustic guitars and bongoes and tambourine. I’m sure it’s been done.

Although, it might be difficult to reproduce my favorite track on Help!, the riff-based classic “Ticket to Ride.”

I love Ringo’s drums throughout this song – the toms, the syncopation. I also really love the droning, buzzing guitar heard throughout[ref]The guy I worked with who saw The Beatles live (twice) said the first time his mom heard “I Feel Fine,” a Beatles single that opens with feedback very similar in sound to this buzz, she pulled off the highway in traffic because she thought her car was breaking![/ref]. And Paul’s high harmonies throughout are brilliant, as he helps John on lyrics about a girl that’s going away. The guitar solo, and lead fills, are also played by Paul. It’s a great, electric song.

Another song that wouldn’t be terribly suited to acoustic strumming is the cover “Dizzy Miss Lizzy.” It’s a fine song, I guess, but by Help! I’m rather over hearing John sing a cover song. I’d rather hear Lennon and McCartney team up, like on the lovely, mellow “Tell Me What You See.”

This may actually be my favorite song on the album. (It’s so hard to choose.) Their voices are so perfect together, Ringo’s on claves again, George strokes a guiro, and that electric piano break (1:04, 1:49, and at the very end) from Paul is awesome – as are Ringo’s drums coming out of it. Paul is trying to convince a girl that she should recognize he’s the one for her. Of course, another song on Help! points out that if she doesn’t, well, he has got “Another Girl.” McCartney plays the countrified lead electric guitar throughout, which is stellar! John sings a cool high harmony, and the three part harmony through the bridge is once again amazing.

Help! is really a new direction for The Beatles. But the didn’t totally abandon the driving, pop song gems that they originally rode to success. Check out “The Night Before.”

Ringo’s back on the full kit, slamming that ride cymbal, the vocal oohs and ahhs are primed to make the girls scream, and Paul begs them to treat him right, his memories of last night bringing tears to his eyes! George and Paul play an electric guitar duet, and it’s just like the good old days of 1963.

This album broke the mold for the band. But maybe it set the mold for the bands and artists in the rest of the 1960s. It showed the public that anything was possible in pop music. Why, even a bunch of actors thrown together for a silly TV show could create some amazing stuff; all they had to do was follow the originals. They might even end up fooling some people!

TRACK LISTING:
“Help!”
“The Night Before”
“You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away”
“I Need You”
“Another Girl”
“You’re Going to Lose That Girl”
“Ticket to Ride”
“Act Naturally”
“It’s Only Love”
“You Like Me Too Much”
“Tell Me What You See”
“I’ve Just Seen a Face”
“Yesterday”
“Dizzy Miss Lizzy”

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6th Favorite Beatles Album: A Hard Day’s Night

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A Hard Day’s Night
1964, Parlophone. Producer: George Martin.
Purchased CD, Approx. 1994.

IN A NUTSHELL: A Hard Day’s Night demonstrates everything about The Beatles that made them so brilliant in their early recording years. Before they ever added orchestras, psychedelia, and odd instruments, they were cranking out gem after gem. Their voices, songwriting and musicianship were beyond what was expected, especially for a teeny-bopper movie! This album leans heavily on John Lennon’s talents, but each of the four shines throughout, and the songs are excellent even if you haven’t seen the film.

NOTE: The setup – below the line ↓ – might be the best part … Or skip right to the album discussion.

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Since well before actors’ voices were heard, movies have included music to enhance the action shown by the flickering lights on the big screen. Before sound was added to films, movies would often be shown with a full orchestra accompaniment. Other times, a single piano would play music. In small towns where nobody knew how to play the piano, often a single guitarist might play along. The point is, music can make a movie. That’s always been the case.

I’ve loved movies since I was a little kid in the early ’70s, when, due to some fluke of community planning, my rural Pennsylvania township had cable TV well before the rest of America did. This meant I got to watch movies on TV channels from Philadelphia, which was 100 miles (or 50 years) away from us. This is before pay-channels, like HBO, so the movies were interrupted by commercials and had all the bad words bleeped out. But they had music! And I loved watching movies and hearing songs in them.

Actually, my love of film music was first sparked by perhaps – no, not perhaps, it’s definitely true – by THE FINEST performer that has ever graced a movie or television screen: Bugs Bunny. Bugs could sing, everything from opera to folk, he could play banjo, guitar, harp, fiddle, piano, even conduct an orchestra. Though he wasn’t familiar with them at first, he eventually even mastered the bagpipes. Watching hours of Bugs each week primed my brain for a lifetime of enjoying music in movies.

My mom also helped develop my love by playing her Broadway show 8-tracks all the time. From listening to them I expected music to help tell a story. But even though I’m a fan of musicals, from Singin’ in the Rain to Grease to Purple Rain to LA LA Land, a movie doesn’t have to be a musical to have a great soundtrack.

Pulp Fiction has one of my favorite soundtracks ever, and I’m not alone. The record usually appears somewhere on all of the “Best Soundtracks” lists you see out there. There are songs from Kool and the Gang and The Statler Brothers and everyone in between. From the opening credits through all of the iconic scenes, and even in the background (which is where I discovered Maria McKee, and one of my favorite albums), this soundtrack has great, diverse songs that didn’t used to seem to fit together, but now sure will forever.

A lesser-known film from the 90s, yet equally terrific and also with a tremendous soundtrack, is the 1996 John Sayles film Lone Star. It’s set on the Texas/Mexico border, and the music sets the tone perfectly. From Texas blues to Tejano to sultry jazz, the songs always set the scene for the action. All of the songs were unfamiliar to me, yet I still left the theater wanting the soundtrack – an impressive feat for a film. In the early web days of the mid 90s, I learned the perils of online shopping due to this soundtrack. I tried to buy it online and instead ended up with some lame country band[ref]Hey, the band may be great but I really don’t like any country music unless it was made before about 1973.[/ref] also called “Lonestar.” If you ever get a chance, check out the movie and music sometime!

Sometimes movie music isn’t even about the entire soundtrack. Sometimes it’s just a terrific song behind a great scene, like John Candy doin’ the mess-around in Planes, Trains and Automobiles. Or the Caddyshack scenes in the pool, on the golf course, or inside the country club. There’s Paul Newman riding a bike in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. And Napoleon Dynamite dancing. Or Scarlett Johansson and Bill Murray doing karaoke in Lost in Translation. Music can make a scene unforgettable.

And then there are all the terrific movies about bands and musicians that have amazing music. For comedies there’s This is Spinal Tap. Fear of a Black Hat. And The Blues Brothers, although unlike the first two, the Blues Brothers band is a group of real musicians. (This is Spinal Tap is by far the funniest film of the three. Perhaps of all time.) And there are more band movies (real and fictional), like Yellow Submarine and Gimme Shelter and The Last Waltz and Human Highway and Rock ‘n Roll High School and Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains and Stop Making Sense and 1991: The Year Punk Broke and That Thing You Do! and School of Rock and 8 Mile and Shut Up and Play the Hits and Straight Outta Compton and on and on and on. I haven’t seen all of them, but I will.

One of my favorite soundtracks is from a movie that I’ve only seen once, years ago. People find it hard to believe, but I actually bought the soundtrack several years before I ever watched the movie because – to be honest – I’m more interested in the music than the film. This isn’t typically the case with movie soundtracks. But with a band like The Beatles, the typical is atypical. And with an album as great as A Hard Day’s Night, I sometimes forget it’s a soundtrack.

Early in my Beatles-loving career, in high school and college, I dismissed any Beatles songs before about Revolver, in 1966, as moldy oldies, bubble-gummy “yeah yeah yeah” pop that to my (immature) ears sounded about as interesting as the doo-wop songs Sha-Na-Na covered. In the early 90s, I carpooled to work with a woman named Ximena, who’s now one of my oldest friends. She was the one who told me I should listen to A Hard Day’s Night. (We may have played it during our commute, but usually we listened to 80s stuff.) I trusted her musical opinion, so went out and bought it, and I immediately realized these songs were neither moldy nor oldie-sounding. The songs sounded as fresh as any guitar music on the radio, and the album still sounds great today.

From the opening chord on the opening title track, perhaps the most-studied and most-discussed two seconds of music ever recorded, A Hard Day’s Night delivers great sounds and songs throughout.

What a showcase for the singing of Lennon and McCartney! Both voices are double-tracked, John on the verses (which is where the title is sung, which is odd), McCartney on the choruses (which are the same each time, but don’t include the title, which is odd), and they sound terrific! I love Paul’s cool little bass noodle thing he plays to accompany Ringo’s toms after each verse. It’s hard to hear unless you listen with headphones, but it’s great. George has a nice, fast, 12-string guitar solo that producer George Martin doubles on piano[ref]Martin couldn’t play it fast enough, so he actually played the piano half-speed, and in a lower register, then speeded up the tape so that it fit with the song! How cool is this band and its producer?[/ref]. And Ringo’s insistent cowbell through the chorus is the first of many percussion implements he’ll use throughout the album.

A Hard Day’s Night is really very much a Lennon album. He wrote most of the songs (of course, all are credited to Lennon/McCartney) and sings most, too. “I Should Have Known Better” is one of the last Beatle songs to feature John playing harmonica[ref]I believe “I’m a Loser” was the final one, but don’t quote me on that.[/ref], and also features a nifty chord change going into the chorus. (It’s another song that has the repeated title in the verse instead of the chorus.) George deftly changes chords and strumming patterns throughout the song. It’s not my favorite song, and neither is the Lennon/McCartney song that George gets to sing, “I’m Happy Just to Dance with You.” Although, Ringo is credited with playing an “African Drum[ref]I don’t know what that is, really. It’s a pretty broad category.[/ref],” whatever that may be, and it sounds really cool. George didn’t get any of his own songs on the record, but he sings this love song just fine.

While John’s often associated with the more rockin’ Lennon/McCartney pieces, he gets sentimental on the lovely “If I Fell.”

I’ve always loved this song about the desire for new love to last. John and Paul’s harmonies are perfect, although on the stereo version of the song, at the end of the second bridge, Paul’s voice cracks (1:45), a charming faux pas, in my opinion. George plays a simple solo, and Ringo does a great, subtle job holding it all down. Paul gets to show off his own love-songwriting chops on the ballad “And I Love Her.” Ringo picks up bongos and a pair of claves this time, and George adds a terrific classical guitar line throughout, and a nice solo.

After all that lovey-doviness, the boys need to pick things up, don’t you think? And they do it in fine fashion with a couple rockers. First comes the awesome three-part harmony of “Tell Me Why.” While John, Paul and George pull off those amazing vocals (about another girl who done John wrong), Ringo is playing cool fills and pushing the band toward the climactic falsetto of “is there anything I can do?” (1:32). Next the absolute classic “Can’t Buy Me Love” rocks even a little harder[ref]If you’re questioning whether it really rocks, check out this live clip from 1964.)[/ref]. Paul’s bass is bouncy, George plays one of his best early-Beatle guitar solos (at 1:18 you can hear a faint, second solo in the left speaker), and the lyrics are not about a prostitute.

For my money, A Hard Day’s Night really picks up on what used to be known as (in the days when records had two sides) “Side 2.”

Side 2 opens what a slam on Ringo’s snare drum, as “Any Time at All” begins, one of my favorite Beatle guitar songs. I love Harrison’s riffs throughout. And in addition to Ringo concluding each verse with a ‘thwack,’ he also breaks out his trusty cowbell once again. John sings lead again, but Paul adds the second, higher-pitched “Any Time at All.” It’s a fun song, and the next one, “I’ll Cry Instead,” is fun, too, despite its sad-sack lyrics. It’s one of those Country-Western style Beatle songs that Ringo usually sings. (Since Ringo didn’t get a song to sing on A Hard Day’s Night, I wonder why they didn’t give him this one?) George nails the rockabilly guitar, and Paul has a sort-of-not-really bass solo (1:05 & 1:35).

Next comes one of my all-time favorite songs, “Things We Said Today.”

I’ve written many times that lyrics are not usually what draws me to a song, but one of the reasons I love this one is the lyrics. The idea that what we’re saying today, especially as young lovers, will become tomorrow’s happy memories is such a sweet, romantic idea. Paul sings lead, and the harmonies George adds (i.e. “someday when I’m lonely”) are perfect. I really dig Lennon’s acoustic guitar strumming throughout, and how Ringo emphasizes things in the bridge (1:00). It’s a tremendous “Paul song,” one of my favorites.

But A Hard Day’s Night is really mostly John’s. “When I Get Home” is about a man waiting to get home to his girlfriend, and is the only song I know that uses all five syllables of the word “trivialities” in metered, rhyming verse. The intro is pure Ringo. It’s a decent song, but I’m a much bigger fan of John’s “You Can’t Do That.”

In the 90s, when I was carpooling with Ximena, who’d extolled the virtues of A Hard Day’s Night, we worked with an older guy named Paul who’d seen The Beatles live – TWICE! He saw them in San Francisco at The Cow Palace in 1965, and at their LAST CONCERT EVER[ref]Not counting the rooftop Let It Be performance.[/ref], at Candlestick Park. Of course I spent hours talking Beatles with him when I should have been running lab experiments, and he even showed me his Candlestick Park Beatles ticket stub. Anyway, he told me “You Can’t Do That” was always he and his friends’ favorite Beatles song – because of the super-cool guitar riff that Harrison and Lennon play. I love the riff, too. And listen to Paul’s awesome, twirling bass line! (The guitars and bass really come alive on headphones.) I also really dig Ringo’s drums – and his trusty cowbell. The harmonies are sweet (“gree-eeen”) on John’s tough-guy lyrics. But what I really love is the ending, as the band slows things down and then gently slides up to that final note. It’s subtle things like this that set The Beatles apart: a throwaway album track that was cut from the film, yet they can’t help but add some artistry to it.

The album closes with a promise from the band: “I’ll Be Back.”

The harmonies, on rather-stalkerish-but-of-the-era lyrics, are fabulous, Harrison’s acoustic guitar riff is lovely, the syncopated strumming behind the verses is cool, and it’s got a shifting time signature, throwing in a 2/4 measure after the “oh, oh”s (0:40). Then it has a really weird, rather sudden fade out. Not to get too interpretive, but considering the song’s title, it’s almost like they’re saying, “don’t worry, we’ll be back … we wouldn’t leave you hanging like that!”

And return they did, the following year, with another movie, and another soundtrack. There was nothing this band couldn’t do. I don’t know why I didn’t get into this album earlier, since it sort of harkens back to the TV days of my youth. A Hard Day’s Night shows The Beatles were almost as talented as Bugs Bunny! (Almost.)

TRACK LISTING:
“A Hard Day’s Night”
“I Should Have Known Better”
“If I Fell”
“I’m Happy Just to Dance with You”
“And I Love Her”
“Tell Me Why”
“Can’t Buy Me Love”
“Any Time at All”
“I’ll Cry Instead”
“Things We Said Today”
“When I Get Home”
“You Can’t Do That”
“I’ll Be Back”

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7th Favorite Beatles Album: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band

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Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
1967, Apple Records. Producer: George Martin.
Purchased CD, Approx. 1992.

IN A NUTSHELL: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band is an album that is inescapable in rock, a cultural touchstone truly unlike any other. Its importance as a work of art has probably overshadowed the actual songs on the record, which are diverse and strange and layered with studio effects and tricks. It can be hard to get past the sheer brilliance of the production, but if you can, I think you’ll find that the songs themselves are actually very good, too! Some call it the best ever – but for me it’s middle-of-the-pack Beatles.

NOTE: The setup – below the line ↓ – might be the best part … Or skip right to the album discussion.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I will try to write this first section with a minimum of creepiness. I’m nearly 53 years old, so there’s a possibility this story sounds really gross. If it ends up sounding gross I’ll trash the whole thing. But assuming I can make it through, I want to immediately acknowledge three things I intend to discuss: 1) I was once a teenager attracted to teenaged girls; 2) my friends and I had ignorant, immature and inappropriate discussions about teenaged girls; and 3) I can recall both numbers 1 and 2.

But I intend to not be creepy. Let’s give it a try.

I entered high school in the fall of 1981, 14 years old and awkward and chubby and unsure of myself. Upon arrival, I was struck (as were my friends) by the fact that the senior girls around us were unlike any girls with whom we’d ever shared a school. I’m sure freshman girls noticed the same thing about the older boys. There were now students in our midst that looked more like attractive adults than any students we’d ever seen before.

As a younger student, I remember being enamored of some schoolmates. At Ebenezer Elementary School from kindergarten (Angie L.) through fifth grade (Juli Z.). At Cedar Crest Middle School from sixth through eighth grades (Jana C.). These crushes were very sweet, in retrospect, and never reciprocated. They were based mostly on the fact that these girls had cute faces and they laughed at my jokes. If there was any sort of physical attraction beyond a pretty face, I have no memory of it. Getting a laugh was the main thing.

However, at high school there were suddenly girls in the hallways walking to class who looked more like women – attractive women like I’d seen in movies or on TV – than girls. My friends and I had never been around so many people like this. Senior girls became a regular topic of conversation at my lunch table that freshman year. Sharon, Kathy, Pam, Lisa, Kelly … we discussed these popular seniors as if they were Hollywood celebrities. From our vantage as ninth grade nerds trying to get through the day unnoticed and unbeaten, they seemed just as remote.

My freshman year was also the first semester at school for a young, male art teacher. I don’t remember his name, but he had long (for a 1981 teacher) wavy hair and wore preppy clothes, like those woolen ties with a square bottom that I only saw on rich people and, once in a while, Detective Arthur Dietrich. It was also the only semester that art teacher was at the school, as a few months into the school year he was no longer employed there. Word soon got around the students that the reason he was gone was because he’d asked one of those popular senior girls, Kathy, out on a date. Even in 1981 this was frowned upon.

This situation, of course, was THE HOT TOPIC at our lunch table for several days, perhaps a week. We were all newly-arrived 14 year olds with varying levels of dating experience – ranging from “too scared to ever think of asking out a girl” to “have thought about it and rejected the idea as too scary,” plus one guy who claimed to have actually been intimate with several girls, but who everyone knew was a bullshitter. The question we aimed to resolve at these daily summits was this: “Was an opportunity to date Kathy worth giving up a job, and possibly a career, and perhaps even an arrest and criminal record?” In other words, did Mr. Wavy-hair Art Teacher make the right choice in asking Kathy on a date?

After considerable discussion, the consensus among the group of us five or six boys was this: he made the right choice. It was probably worth it.

Of course, now, as an adult with experience and an understanding of power dynamics and the patriarchal system that continues to cause inequities in our society, along with a clear understanding of professional boundaries and criminal law, I recognize that this was a ridiculous position for us to take. Still, in my memory (I’ve retold this story countless times), the Kathy character in this vignette is a goddess, an angel, a pure distillation of feminine beauty such that I, as a youth, believed men should risk everything just for an opportunity to share a slice of pizza with her at Special Pizza City.

My sister, Liz, was also a senior that year, and she was an average kid with lots of friends. She knew, and had classes with, the popular girls, Kathy and Sharon and Pam and all the others. But she and her friends were not part of that crowd. Recently I got to hang out with Liz, and talk turned, as it often does, to our high school years. We looked through her senior yearbook, and I recounted the above story. As we flipped through and looked at all the kids, I noticed something. Kathy didn’t really seem like the unbelievable beauty I’d always remembered. She was a cute kid, but there were lots of cute kids in the book.

Clearly my friends and I were swayed by the idea of Kathy as much as the actual appearance of Kathy. We’d been shaken by our entrance that fall into an arena unlike anything we’d ever experienced. We were overwhelmed by it, and it put us off balance. And all these names of senior girls became images in our heads that didn’t even have a basis in reality. Before I went back and looked at that yearbook, I couldn’t even conjure an image of any of them in my head. I knew that Sharon was tall and blonde and Kathy was shorter with brown hair. The others were only names. “Really?” I thought. “What was all the fuss about?”

I have similar feelings these days when I listen to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Since becoming a rock music fan – about six months before entering high school – I’ve heard Sgt. Pepper’s called the greatest album ever. It’s seemingly been on the top of every “Best Album” list. Story after story have been written and produced about its ground-breaking production, its cultural impact, its uniqueness and power and legacy. It is the most inescapable record in the history of rock.

And you know what?

It’s really good! There’s no denying that the songs are great. But the production – especially considering the technology available in 1967 – is truly astounding. The band’s instruments don’t take center stage (well, McCartney’s bass often does), but instead the recording studio does. That was a novel idea in 1967, and people were blown away by it. I was blown away by it when I first heard it – a feeling not unlike being a 14-year-old entering high school and seeing attractive young men and women roaming the halls. It’s a feeling that can skew one’s perceptions. Now that I’m older I can reflect on the situation, take a fresh listen, and conclude … “It’s a really good album.” I don’t think it’s the best album ever. It doesn’t even crack my Beatles Top Five. But it’s damned good.

I first heard the opening pair of Sgt. Pepper’s tracks on my oldest sister Anne’s 8-track of 1967-1970, often called “The Blue Album.” It was a 1973 greatest-hits compilation released with 1962-1966, or “The Red Album,” and both were quite popular. I was probably 10, and hearing the audience sounds, I thought the title track was recorded live. I tried to imagine what the band was doing on-stage during the horn interlude, beginning at 0:44 on “Sgt. Pepper’s,” that was making the audience laugh so heartily.

I’ll say up front that one of the reasons the album isn’t higher on my list is because there’s not enough guitar on it. However, the guitar on this song, particularly in the first 0:20, is actually pretty cool. It’s McCartney playing lead, with George adding cool rhythm chords underneath, and on headphones you can hear them dueling throughout the whole song[ref]Underscoring what a great guitar song it is, Jimi Hendrix learned the song and played it live in London just days after the album was released – with Paul and George in the audience.[/ref]. It’s a great intro to the concept album[ref]The concept being that The Beatles were some other band, and these were their songs – a concept which nobody but Paul was ever really on board with.[/ref], with great vocals, and it leads into one of my favorite Beatles’ songs ever.

“With a Little Help From my Friends” is a perfect Lennon/McCartney song for Ringo to sing[ref]There was always one Ringo song per album.[/ref], and he sings it (as Billy Shears!) perfectly. Paul’s bass is front and center, with its swooping ranginess. The band’s harmonies, and call-and-response vocals, perfectly support Starr’s limited range, and really make the lyrics, about the precious value of friendship, come alive. Harrison gets a few opportunities to throw in some signature guitar riffs, but throughout the album, there are fewer and fewer opportunities for him. After this song, the album becomes very studio-focused.

For example, the wonderful and weird “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” which is one of the band’s most well-known songs. With instrumentation including a tambura and electric guitars made to sound like other instruments, McCartney’s bass is the only rock instrument that stands out. In a great BBC documentary on the album, composer Howard Goodall explains why Paul’s bass is so great on the song – all technical music terms and such. But the point is it sounds cool. And all the instrumentation make John’s wild imagery[ref]Inspired by his son Julian’s preschool drawing, not, as many have speculated, LSD.[/ref] sound particularly strange.

One song on which Harrison’s guitar gets to shine is the terrific “Getting Better.”

It shines in the way George’s playing always does – with subtlety, and warranting repeated listens to fully appreciate it. His ringing chords throughout the chorus make the song. It’s a Paul song, but John famously contributed the “couldn’t get no worse” lyrics. It’s a fun piece, and my favorite of the three McCartney tracks that have always run together a bit in my mind. “Fixing a Hole,” although a music-hall song instead of a rock song, also features Harrison’s guitar genius, for example, from 0:38 to 1:00 and his solo beginning at 1:16. The lyrics are definitely upbeat-Paul. Which is different from the next song, “She’s Leaving Home,” which features maudlin-Paul lyrics.

“She’s Leaving Home” is a lovely song, but it’s one that I’ve liked less and less over the years. I’ve grown tired of the song’s lush orchestration, which may have been the inspiration for Phil Spector’s overdone Let It Be production. When I first heard the album I was impressed by this style of song coming from a rock band. In the same way, I was very impressed by Lennon’s “Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!,” a show-tune style of song about a Victorian acrobat, of sorts, with impressive studio tricks and sounds. I liked the song because it was unexpected and represented what I thought the album represented. It’s sort of how I was impressed by those senior girls when I was a freshman.

The song on Sgt. Pepper’s that is the equivalent of an overlooked student – someone with different hair and different clothes that, back in the day, my friends and I thought was just a weirdo – but who, in viewing a yearbook 40 years later might have caused me to ask “why didn’t I know this cute person?” is Harrison’s “Within You, Without You.”

For many years I’d skip over this song. Then, at some point in the past 20 years or so, I began to allow myself to be enveloped by its strange (to my ears) sounds and insightful lyrics and now it might be my favorite on the record. It’s actually got a great melody that sticks in my head, and the line “life goes on/ within you/ and without you” is a stroke of genius, and a timeless lesson that has helped me greatly in dealing with all the ups and downs of being a human. I no longer skip the song, I look forward to its strangeness.

Which isn’t to say I don’t also love the timelessness of a great Western pop song like McCartney’s “When I’m Sixty-Four,” a song which would have been a hit at any time since about 1840.

This is one of my earliest favorite Beatles’ songs[ref]Although never on par with “Strawberry Fields Forever,” which has always been THE favorite.[/ref]. I grew up hearing (and enjoying) my mom’s show-tunes and my dad’s brass music, and this song sounds like an incorporation of both of those styles. It’s true that, as John Lennon described it, it is “Granny Music,” and the part of me that loves The New York Dolls and Sonic Youth HATES this song. But it’s so catchy, and has sweet lyrics that get better as I approach 64 years old. And with Paul’s melodic bass once again front-and-center, carrying the piece, it’s hard for me not to love it.

I love all the songs on Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, and by pointing out some that I’m less-enthused about than others, I don’t mean to denigrate the entire album. Whenever the album is in the news, typically on -0 and -5 anniversaries of its release, there are many pieces written that go out of their way to say the album is garbage. I’m all for people expressing dislike for popular artists based on their own tastes (I’ve written before that I just don’t get the appeal of Bob Dylan) but sometimes people just want to stir shit up. I’m not saying I dislike songs like “Lovely Rita” and “Good Morning Good Morning,” they’re just not strong favorites of mine.

Lovely Rita” has great bass (of course), cool harmony vocals throughout and a catchy piano solo, played by producer George Martin. It’s about a meter maid, a real one[ref]Her name wasn’t Rita, however.[/ref] who gave Paul a parking ticket at Abbey Road Studios. My favorite part is the end, after 2:10, with all its weird sounds and voices. “Good Morning Good Morning” has an awesome guitar solo played by McCartney at 1:17, and strange time signature changes. A brass band backs Lennon on lyrics about a day in the life … It also features cool animal sounds at the end, each animal capable of frightening the preceding one.

Next Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band comes back, with more electric guitar from George this time, to thank the audience for coming to the show, which leads into one of the all-time great Beatle songs: “A Day in the Life.”

It’s a true Lennon/McCartney collaboration, each of them bringing the best of their talents to the song and combining them into a masterpiece. John mostly wrote the beginning and end, and Paul mostly wrote the middle. I haven’t mentioned Ringo much yet, but he really shines on this song, heightening the tension in Lennon’s sections with his fills and rolls. He plays like an orchestral percussionist. The crazy orchestra crescendo after Lennon’s section (1:45) is thrilling, especially as it explodes into Paul’s jaunty wakeup section (2:16). The transition back to John, at 2:49, with its dreamlike sounds, is perfect, and once again Ringo is brilliant on John’s final verse. The crazy orchestral crescendo occurs again[ref]As I’ve said before, there are great books that go into detail about the Beatles’ recordings. You should read them – especially how the band and George Martin got a bunch of stodgy classical musicians to improvise on this track by giving them just a low note and a high note![/ref] leading to that epic piano note – four Beatles on four pianos all playing the same chord. Astounding. And be sure to stick around for 5:11, where nonsense gibberish and a pitch only dogs can hear await!

Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band is an album unlike any other. It stands out in a line of popular musical development, a touchstone for Western civilization. But don’t let that fact overwhelm you. There are many other pretty faces in the crowd, and just because everyone tells you who the best are, you should decide for yourself which ones are the superstars.

TRACK LISTING:
“Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”
“With a Little Help from My Friends”
“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”
“Getting Better”
“Fixing a Hole”
“She’s Leaving Home”
“Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!”
“Within You Without You”
“When I’m Sixty-Four”
“Lovely Rita”
“Good Morning Good Morning”
“Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise)”
“A Day in the Life”

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8th Favorite Beatles Album: Please Please Me

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Please Please Me
1963, Parlophone. Producer: George Martin.
Purchased CD, Approx. 1995.

IN A NUTSHELL: Please Please Me is an album as old as most grandparents, yet it still delivers songs that sound exciting and fresh. The vocals of Lennon and McCartney are particularly fine throughout the album. The terrific guitar and drums from Harrison and Starr are buried a bit, due to the recording technology of the time, but if you listen closely you’ll love what you hear.

NOTE: The setup – below the line ↓ – might be the best part … Or skip right to the album discussion.

~ ~ ~

In the 1970s, my sisters and I didn’t appreciate how cool this car really was!

I grew up in the 1970s in a family without much money. We weren’t super-poor, but raising three kids on a machinist’s wages, supplemented by my mom’s work as a lunch lady, meant my parents had to be conscious of every penny. We didn’t dress in the best clothing – we got the Hill’s Department Store versions. We didn’t drive a new car – we tooled around in a peacock blue 1962 Ford Fairlane, complete with tail fins. We didn’t own gadgets or the latest cool stuff – although my dad did get a Texas Instruments calculator around 1977, and it was probably the most expensive item my parents bought that year.

My family’s wringer-washer sat in our garage under an old, plastic picnic-tablecloth.

Because money was tight, the most important feature of anything we owned was that it was DURABLE. Sure, my dad could fix almost anything, and my mom repaired, and resized, hand-me-down clothing with ease. But to them there was nothing better than a decades-old product still working like the day it was produced. We owned a television from the 60s, an ice cream maker from the 50s, and a movie projector from the 40s. And our washing machine was like something out of a museum.

The washtubs served as useful cold-drink coolers at summer BBQs.

It was a wringer washer, and you had to fill it with water using a hose. Then it agitated for a while. When it was done washing you pushed the wet, soapy clothes through THE WRINGER, two rubber rolling-pins that squeezed out the suds and water. Well – some of the suds. You had to next dunk the clothes in tubs of water and push them through the wringer another couple times to get all the soap and water out of the clothes. Then they were ready to be hung to dry on the clothesline. It was a clothes-washing process that was probably easier than it had been in the 1920s, but by 1970s standards it was archaic.

All that filling of tubs and moving clothes by hand and shoving sopping wet fabrics through rubber rollers … it was time-consuming. Sometimes, particularly in the winter, when our unheated garage wasn’t conducive to grappling with soaking clothing, my mom would just take our dirty laundry to the nearby laundromat[ref]Which was next to a great hill for sledding, so there were a few winter evenings when I couldn’t wait to go to the laundromat with her![/ref]. Still, the idea of getting a new washing machine just made no sense. Why save a little time and energy when we had a perfectly good, 30-year-old model out in the garage? If something worked, it worked. If something was good, it was good – no matter how old it was.

The Beatles’ first LP, Please Please Me, is nearly 60 years old and it is still working, and still good, durable enough to satisfy my mom and dad. The idea that an album from 57 years ago is still listenable, let alone recognizable as an excellent rock record, is rather unbelievable. To put it in perspective, this would be the equivalent of the 1977 me, out in the garage helping mom push wet clothes through the wringer, listening to, say, Al Jolson’s 1920 smash “Swanee” and enjoying it just as much as the contemporary Emotions song “Best of My Love.” This scenario is extremely unlikely – and not only because I never helped with the laundry.

I’ve mentioned several times while writing about The Beatles that I’m not going to go into much detail about the band’s story – their history, their cultural impact, etc. Far better writers than me have done far more extensive research, and I recommend you read them. But it is worth noting here that the persistence of Please Please Me as a viable listening product is evidence of how much The Beatles helped change Western music. As I write this, the Number 1 song in America is “Circles,” by Post Malone, and it has noticeable guitar, a bass line, a strong back-beat and melody. It’s not too dissimilar from, say, “Do You Want to Know a Secret.” Sure, it’s more modern and the production is different. But the two songs aren’t nearly as different from one another as “Swanee” and “Best of My Love.”

Clearly this rock/pop music throughline from 1963 to 2020 isn’t entirely and directly related to The Beatles. Still, they released Please Please Me nearly 60 years ago and, while it sounds a bit dated, it remains a collection of songs as listenable and enjoyable today as the day it was released. Perhaps no 57-year-old recording has ever sounded as good the album opener, “I Saw Her Standing There.”

The most astounding thing about this song, and the entire album, is that it was recorded live[ref]Well, basically. There were a handful of overdubs.[/ref]. Producer George Martin has said that it was basically a recording of their stage show, “a broadcast, more or less.” Paul’s bass line is front and center, and perfect. George’s guitar sounds best on headphones, where you can clearly hear all his work under the vocals, as at 1:00, and after his solo, at 1:36. Paul sings lyrics that, even though they are sung by an adult, aren’t as cringey as they might seem. The song is in past-tense, so he’s remembering himself as 17 with a girl who “was just 17.” John’s harmonies are terrific, and I love Ringo’s fills to lead the group into each chorus. It remains one of my favorite Beatle songs ever.

Misery” is a fun pop song, catchy and simple, about the downside of love. There’s a cool opening chord, and the band’s voices sound a bit watery and distant, which somehow adds to the sound, as does George Martin’s plunking on the piano. “Chains” is quite similar, with the same lyrical theme, and John’s harmonica taking the place of piano. The band was wild about 60’s girl-groups, and this song was originally done by The Cookies. Paul’s bass, once again, carries the song – although Harrison’s guitar work is subtly very cool.

Among the band’s many early cover songs, one of my favorites is “Anna,” an old song by Arthur Alexander.

It’s a song that really lends itself to headphones[ref]I’m listening to the stereo remaster, by the way.[/ref]. Once again, the watery vocal sound (probably due to the recording technology of the era) adds to the power of John’s vocal performance about yet another girl who’s left him. This is a Harrison song – a song on which, as a listener, I just want to focus on his guitar. He plays a weird chord, just before the third beat of every other measure in the verse, and once again sounds cool without dominating. The band’s “Anna” vocals are spooky, and their “ahhh”s behind the chorus and bridge are thrilling. Ringo, also, has some cool fills entering and throughout the bridge.

Ringo really gets to shine on the stomper “Boys,” on which he also sings lead.

This is a wild early-60s song, with Ringo admirably shouting the vocals while he plays fills and keeps a beat. And his drumming behind Harrison’s guitar solo, beginning at 1:05, is outstanding. The Beatles really seem to be having fun singing and playing another girl-group hit, originally done by The Shirelles. And even though Ringo sings about “boys,” the band never worried about the implications. According to Paul, it was just a fun song to play, and a crowd favorite. Please Please Me includes another Shirelles hit, “Baby It’s You.” John’s vocal is warm and inviting on this love song, and really makes the song – along with Paul and George’s backing vocals.

As great as many of the covers sound (except for “A Taste of Honey,” probably my least-favorite Beatles’ track ever, and I’ll just leave it at that), it’s the Beatle originals that make the album such a favorite. The title track, for example, is just so much fun.

“Please Please Me” features great vocal harmonies, John and Paul pleading for a little more from love. The harmonica sound dates the song a bit, but one thing that’s not dated is Ringo’s drumming. His fills between verses and choruses, and during the “Come on, come on” build-up, and in the bridge are outstanding. Ringo didn’t play on all the songs – producer George Martin was unhappy with his playing on “Love Me Do,” so Andy White played[ref]Myself, I can’t tell much difference between White’s drumming and Ringo’s drumming.[/ref] on this simple ditty. This song is okay, but has a bit too much harmonica for my taste. The vocal harmonies are once again brilliant, however.

White also drummed on “P.S. I Love You,” a nice little cha-cha song, with lyrics in the form of a letter. Paul nails the vocals, as he always does. Both John and Paul nail the vocals on the tricky “There’s a Place,” another love song. It’s got many chord changes, and I love what Harrison does with them, sometimes playing staccato chords, sometimes single notes.

I particularly like Harrison’s guitar in the popular “Do You Want to Know a Secret.”

He plays a nice figure at 0:14 to introduce it, then a cool arpeggiated chord on the “I’m in love with you” in each chorus. The background “Do da do” vocals are catchy and the whole song is fun. John’s voice is great, as it is on the showtune-y “Ask Me Why,” a love song I used to always think was a cover. Ringo does a nice cha-cha[ref]Which makes me think he would have been a fine drummer for “P.S. I Love You.”[/ref], and Paul and George are great on the “woo-woo”s and “I-I”s throughout. It’s another fine original.

And as great as their originals are, it’s a cover song that became one of their most popular songs some 60 years after its release. “Twist and Shout” was a mid-tempo groove when it was made famous by The Isley Brothers. The Beatles revved it up[ref]In a bit of irony, Brian Poole and The Tremeloes, the band Decca Records signed instead of The Beatles in 1962, had a small UK hit by copying The Beatles’ version of the song.[/ref], John blew out his voice, and now it’s one of the band’s most-streamed songs.

Ringo’s drums are great, Paul’s bass is great, George’s guitar is great … but Lennon’s screams are what make the song. There’s a massive energy to the song. When the band builds the song on the multi-voiced “Aah,” at 1:25 and the end, it still sounds exciting today, decades later. (This excitement got the song prominently placed in two 80s film classics: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Back to School.) It’s nominally a song about a dance, but who really cares about the lyrics? It’s a song that has truly stood the test of time.

Just like that old washing machine my mom had.

TRACK LISTING:
“I Saw Her Standing There”
“Misery”
“Anna (Go to Him)”
“Chains”
“Boys”
“Ask Me Why”
“Please Please Me”
“Love Me Do”
“P.S. I Love You”
“Baby It’s You”
“Do You Want to Know a Secret”
“A Taste of Honey”
“There’s a Place”
“Twist and Shout”

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9th Favorite Beatles Album: Let It Be

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Let It Be
1970, Apple Records. Producer: Phil Spector.
Purchased CD, Approx. 1992.

IN A NUTSHELL: Let It Be is a collection of fantastic songs, many of them unfamiliar to the casual listener. The songs and performances by the band are wonderful, but the producer overlaid them with orchestras and choirs that very often muffle the music and at times completely obscure the band’s efforts. But there are a number of Lennon-McCartney songs that find the pair harmonizing like the old days, and the entire band performs brilliantly.

NOTE: The setup – below the line ↓ – might be the best part … Or skip right to the album discussion.

~ ~ ~

I’ve written many times about growing up in my little town in Pennsylvania, being raised in a culture that was rather closed and homogenous, where there was an aversion to anything new and different. But there’s an aspect of my 70s rural PA childhood that I don’t think I’ve touched on yet[ref]Look, I’ve written about 120 of these posts, and if you think I’m going to go back and read all of them to see if I’ve done this angle before, well, you’re nuts.[/ref]. And that is the expectation, deeply held there among the people, that everyone should just “deal with it.” Whatever “it” may be. The solution is to “deal.”

Did you get the wrong order at a restaurant? “Deal with it.” Did the kid who cheated get a better grade than you? “Deal with it.” Did you get mercilessly teased and beaten because you’re gay or chubby or not white or a woman or bad at sports or too poor for cool clothes or part of a different religion? “Deal with it.”

Of course, one way to deal with a wrong order is to send it back; a good way to deal with cheaters is to let someone know; a way to deal with abusive systemic power structures is to work to change them. But this is NOT what the term “Deal with it” meant. What “Deal with it” meant is “keep your mouth shut and don’t upset anyone.”

(Somehow, though, to many of these steely, set-jaw, denizens of my region, if the “problem” was changing demographics and an influx of Spanish-speaking people, then “deal with it” apparently meant to yell insults and threats, and to urge for English-speaking standards, despite the fact that in generations past in this community nobody spoke English, and everyone spoke Pennsylvania Dutch. But I digress …)

This “deal with it” attitude was a hindrance to my development as a happy human being, and it’s something I continue to work on (with great success, I believe) so as to NOT pass it onto my children. But it can be difficult for me to advocate for myself.

For example, let’s say I helped make an album with a band I was in, and none of us really liked the final product, and there were bad feelings around the recording experience and lots of tension among my bandmates and me, and so everyone just left the record sit on a shelf for months. And let’s say that after a few months some folks went, essentially, behind my back to hire a famous producer to make changes to the album, and that when it was released I thought it sounded horrible and stunk to high-heaven, especially the songs that I’d written, and that I was – frankly – embarrassed by the record, no matter how commercially successful it eventually became. Imagine me in that situation, and I’ll tell you I probably NEVER would have thought to remix the entire thing and re-release it. But that’s what Paul McCartney did with Let It Be.

In 2003, McCartney oversaw the remix and re-release of the 1970 Beatles album Let It Be, my 9th-favorite Beatles album. He called it Let It Be… Naked[ref]The remix cover art used negative images of the photos on the original album, except for Harrison. His wide grin on the original looked like a bunch of ugly, black teeth when seen as a negative, so they chose a different photo.[/ref], a reflection of the stripped-down content of the songs.

Of course it was Dr. Dave who first introduced me to the original Let It Be. Our band, JB and The So-Called Cells, played lots of Beatles songs, and Let It Be has a bunch of songs that are fun to play – several of which are rather obscure to the casual music fan. Most people know “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” and “Hey Jude,” but how many people really know where you can syndicate any boat you row? I dove into the album, and I loved it, and I never really considered how much extra stuff, like choirs and orchestras, had been added.

Now that I’m older, I still think it’s a great album, one of my favorites. But I like Let It Be… Naked so much more. It sounds like it’s a direct expression of the band, whereas the original seems like an interpretation. If I want to listen to the songs on Let It Be, I’ll listen to Let It Be… Naked. I’m rating the original release, because I’m following my rules, and it lands at #9. However, Let It Be… Naked would be higher.

But as I said: Let It Be is great!! It starts out with one of the coolest Lennon-McCartney pieces I know, the acoustic ode to friendship, “Two of Us.”

I like to imagine it’s about Lennon and McCartney’s friendship, but in fact Paul wrote the song and lyrics about his new (at the time) girlfriend, Linda. Paul plays a nifty, simple riff to start each line, then he and John strum acoustic guitars, while Harrison picks out a bass line on an electric guitar. The instrumentation gives the song a folksy, campfire feel that enhances the chummy lyrics, as does the whistling, by John, to end the song. The … Naked version of the song isn’t much different, although it leaves out the funny spoken intro by John.

Next up is a song that is SO MUCH FUN TO PLAY on guitar and bass that it’s hard for me to give an assessment of the sound. All I think about is how much I love to play it! It’s the nonsensical, John Lennon-penned “Dig a Pony,” and it’s a staple of any JB and The So-Called Cells performance.

After an aborted intro (Ringo didn’t have his drumsticks ready and stops things after one note) the entire band plays the waltzing main riff, which is an astounding four bars long, ranges nearly two octaves and sounds unlike any other riff in rock. Lennon’s lyrics are bizarre, but Paul’s harmonies are terrific, and Harrison’s guitar playing is among his best. And let’s not forget – it’s a difficult song to drum, but Ringo, as always, is up to the challenge. The … Naked version removes the false start (one of the few changes on the album that I dislike) and cleans up a couple mistakes. It’s a cool, weird song, and most non-Beatle fans are unfamiliar with it.

Across the Universe” is up next, and as much as I love John Lennon (he’s probably my favorite Beatle), this is a song that’s never done much for me. The lyrics have some nice stuff (“pools of sorrow/waves of joy”), but they’re mostly just self-affirmations. The orchestration is quite over the top, and the … Naked version strips all that away. The next song is full of too much orchestra, as well: Harrison’s “I Me Mine.”

Harrison’s guitar really makes this song, both the electric and the acoustic. I like dual lead guitar at the beginning, over Paul’s organ, and the little squawks he throws in. It’s another waltz, a beat Ringo excels at, until the “I Me Me Mine” chorus, where the band rocks out a bit, and Harrison gets to blaze away on electric. When the orchestra is removed on … Naked, you can really hear Ringo’s terrific drumming as the pre-chorus builds (1:12 – 1:20). The orchestra also obscures Harrison’s guitar work from 1:48 – 2:03. “I Me Mine” is a song I like on Let It Be, but that I LOVE on Let It Be… Naked.

The latter album also removes “Dig It,” one of 2 songs ever credited to Lennon, McCartney, Harrison, Starkey, the other being “Flying,” from Magical Mystery Tour. It’s a 50-second goofball song with nonsense lyrics, the kind of song I find interesting because I love the Beatles, but about which I expect most people scratch their heads. However, it does lead into one of the greats, “Let It Be.”

There’s not much to be written about a song as well-known and popular as this song. I like Billy Preston’s organ throughout, and I really like Harrison’s solo, about 1:58, and all his subsequent electric guitar riffs he plays. Also not to be overlooked are Paul’s bass guitar, starting at 1:06, and Ringo’s drums, which were augmented on the original release by Spector, but are clearer on … Naked. The lyrics are inspirational to many, and it’s one of the band’s most popular songs. I think it’s a great song, certainly better than “Maggie Mae,” 40 seconds of an old Liverpudlian street song the band recorded in jest, that was left off … Naked. And certainly not nearly as good as one of my favorite all-time songs, “I’ve Got a Feeling.”

As with “Two of Us,” I love this song partly because it supports my idealized version of the Lennon-McCartney partnership, in which they’re lifelong pals and companions, a songwriting sum that is greater than its parts, driving each other to produce the best possible songs. This version of the pair was probably finished by 1966, but “I’ve Got a Feeling” rejuvenates the idea. It’s actually two different song parts contributed by both and they fit together perfectly, not unlike “A Day in the Life.” So much is happening that it takes multiple listens to truly appreciate. Paul starts off with the main melody, supported by Harrison’s mighty guitar. After his “Oh no,” at 0:29, when the band kicks in, the feeling and sound are heavenly. I love Harrison’s ascending guitar run throughout (example at 0:33), and Lennon’s harmonies on the second verse. Paul and Ringo are locked in, and at 1:15, when Paul really lets lose, the intensity is bumped up a notch, ending with Harrison’s terrific 2-bar wail, at 1:27[ref]The movie Let It Be, which is, frankly, boring, has a great part where Paul tries to teach George how to play this brief part, and it’s a great insight into the pair’s personalities and how they dealt with one another. In short, George gets a bit testy – and probably rightfully so.[/ref], which lets the air out.

Next is Lennon’s half, and it’s the perfect complement to Paul’s. The song has a terrific ending. It’s a perfect Lennon/McCartney song, and even … Naked couldn’t improve it much. The band follows it up with another gem the pair wrote together, one of the first songs they’d ever written, but one that hadn’t been previously released. It’s the 50’s Rock and Roll of “One After 909.”

The band actually recorded it in 1963, but didn’t release it, and the Let It Be version is much better than the original. It’s a fun number with Lennon on lead vocals and McCartney on harmony singing about arriving at the wrong track to pick up a girlfriend. Billy Preston, the “fifth Beatle,” who George tried to bring into the band to ease tensions in 1969, plays a great electric piano, and Harrison does his amazing guitar work throughout. The song was, as heard on Let It Be, recorded live during the band’s famous “rooftop concert” in 1969 (as were “I’ve Got a Feeling” and “Dig a Pony.”) The … Naked version is simply remixed from the original.

The songs recorded on the rooftop show what the band was capable as a live act, even after 3 years away from touring[ref]The Beatles famously stopped playing live shows after their August, 1966, performance at Candlestick Park, in San Francisco.[/ref]. “The Long and Winding Road” shows what too much orchestration and choral accompaniment can do to a decent song. The … Naked version shows it’s not a bad song, a little lyrically schmaltzy, perhaps, but breakups can elicit the schmaltz, so that’s okay. But nowadays I find the original Let It Be version almost unlistenable.

For You Blue” is a bluesy love song from George that the band jams on, with Lennon on lap steel guitar and Paul on the piano. The band is clearly having fun, trading solos, including a cool, simple, descending scale on piano, by Paul. The … Naked version isn’t much different. The album ends on the cool-rockin’, slow-burning groove of “Get Back,” a song that’s been played a lot but that never sounds old.

The band once again sounds like they’re having fun, with McCartney and Lennon harmonizing on lyrics about traveling. The lead guitar throughout really carries things, and it’s actually played by Lennon this time, relegating Harrison to rhythm guitar. His solo at 1:00 is pure fun. Billy Preston plays an electric piano solo next, at 1:33, then around 2:20 Lennon repeats his solo. It’s a fun song, which includes band banter throughout. The … Naked version leaves off the banter.

One other item about Let It Be … Naked: it includes “Don’t Let Me Down,” a song that should have been on the original album. The Beatles played it on the rooftop, and I think it’s one of their best songs ever. It was released as the B-side to the “Get Back” single. McCartney’s bass is great, Harrison’s guitar is great, Starr’s drums are great, Lennon’s vocals are great … I guess what I’m saying is “The Beatles are great!!” Their music stands out, even when it’s partially obscured by extraneous orchestral and choral arrangements. But I’m glad Paul showed an example of how to “deal with” a situation: he made a change!

TRACK LISTING:
“Two Of Us”
“Dig a Pony”
“Across the Universe”
“I Me Mine”
“Dig It”
“Let It Be”
“Maggie Mae”
“I’ve Got a Feeling”
“One After 909”
“The Long and Winding Road”
“For You Blue”
“Get Back”

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10th Favorite Beatles Album: Beatles For Sale

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Beatles For Sale.
1964, Parlophone. Producer: George Martin.
Purchased CD, Approx. 1992.

IN A NUTSHELL: Beatles For Sale is a record that has the band sounding a bit more tired, and a bit less sunny, than on their previous records. It’s full of covers, once again, but George Harrison’s guitar brings many of them up to Beatle greatness. The original Lennon/McCartney songs are generally darker than previous songs, but they retain that magic the partnership always delivered.

NOTE: The setup – below the line ↓ – might be the best part … Or skip right to the album discussion.

~ ~ ~

This isn’t my dad, but this looks like the kind of stuff he did in a career spanning the late 50s to early 00s.

I remember hearing about my dad’s reaction when he learned some details of the salaried position my older sister had recently taken at a local college. This was in the early 90s, and by then my dad had been working for hourly wages as a tool and die maker in machine shops for over thirty years. He worked with his hands, standing behind big machines all day. He didn’t sit much, and the closest he came to having a desk was either his workbench, where he kept his tools, or the drafting table he’d stand behind while designing his work.

He was blue-collar through and through, and he seemed to love his work. He rarely complained about it, or about what others were doing. He was a “shop guy,” and true, he’d sometimes make some comments about the office guys[ref]At this time, apart from secretaries, it was really all men around his jobs.[/ref], folks in management who were often derisively called “pencil pushers[ref]Given the computer age we live in, and the lack of pencils generally seen around offices, I wonder if this term is still used?[/ref]” by some blue collar workers. But he wasn’t mean toward them, and didn’t seem to be waging battles against them. He simply seemed to be uncertain what it is a guy sitting in a chair could really do all day. My dad took big hunks of metal and through precision-measured cuts (usually without the help of computers, by the way – it was all analog micrometers and calipers until well into his career) he formed all sorts of moldings and dies and tools and parts, small enough that he could bring them home and show them to us kids. What did office guys take home to show their kids?

So flash forward a few years to my now-young-adult eldest sister, who had recently acquired a salaried position. I don’t remember the details, only the generalities, but during a conversation with my parents about planning some sort of a family event, she mentioned that she could leave work early. My dad, aghast, implored her NOT to take any time off! She should earn all the money she could! Then she explained that she’d get paid even if she left because she didn’t get paid by the hour. As I recall from her retelling, it took him a little while to comprehend that you could get paid for NOT working. Once he understood it, I’m not sure he ever got comfortable with the idea.

We all have a unique perspective on work and what it means. Everyone knows the intricacies of their own job, the details and operations hidden from others that make it challenging and interesting. Everyone else’s jobs seem kind of easy in comparison. If you have a desk job with a lot of responsibilities, driving a forklift seems like a comparative relief. If you’re planting trees in the hot sun all day, sitting in air-conditioning calling customers seems easy. And if you have any “normal” job, being a Beatle seems like perfection!!

But from everything I’ve read, it wasn’t easy being a Beatle. First of all, you had to be a world-class musician and/or songwriter. Then there were the years spent playing in Hamburg, Germany, where the band played twenty-eight shows a week for less than 3 pounds a day, while living next to toilets. Even after they started to succeed, their schedule was crazy and the demands on them intense. In 1964, they toured the UK, the US, and the world, recorded two albums, shot a movie, and appeared on TV around the world. It was exhausting. Sure, they weren’t standing behind a hot, oily machine 8 hours a day, but I’ll bet my dad wouldn’t have traded his job for theirs.

The album they released at the end of 1964, Beatles For Sale, sounds like it was made by a group of tired musicians. Don’t get me wrong – it sounds great! But between all the cover songs (similar to With the Beatles, this album is almost 50% non-Lennon/McCartney or Harrison songs) and some originals that aren’t up to the band’s usual caliber, one can almost hear the weariness of criss-crossing the globe. Even the album cover, the band’s four stoic faces evidencing the stress of the grind, sends the message that the carefree mop-tops have reached their limits of smiles and amiability.

But there is so much good stuff here, and it starts right off the top with one of their most familiar hits, “No Reply.” I love a song – and an album – that opens cold with vocals …

Ringo sets down a nice bossa nova beat during the verses, and transitions smoothly to a rock beat in the choruses. Lennon’s lyrics about a girl who’s no longer interested were praised by the band’s music publisher, Dick James, as being the first in the band’s career with a story, something Lennon was proud of. The band’s harmonies, particularly in the bridge (“If I were you/ I’d realize …”), are great, as usual. Even the Beatles’ songs I’ve heard a million times, like this one, still hold up. Side note: since the record contains many covers, I decided to feature other artists covering Beatles’ songs. But I couldn’t find any for “No Reply[ref]Although acts like Genesis (almost) and The Buzzcocks had different songs called “No Reply.”[/ref].”

Up next is one of my favorite Beatles’ songs, “I’m a Loser.”

The vocal-harmony opening is terrific, and the Paul’s walking bass line, with Ringo’s shuffle beat and George’s twangy guitar fills, give the song – like “I Feel Fine,” which was released as a single around the time of this album – a country rock feel. John’s voice goes deep, and his lyrics are personal and moving. He also gets to throw in some harmonica, an instrument he and the band mostly abandoned around this time. (For a cover, here’s 60s folkie Marianne Faithfull’s version of “I’m a Loser.”)

Baby’s In Black” is a sort of sad waltz, which sounds a bit like a drinking song about a girl hung up on her old boyfriend. It opens with a cool George riff, then gets right to the harmony vocals, which are outstanding. At 1:06, George plays a weird solo that’s really great. I also like Ringo’s insistent kick-drum at 1:35. (The bluegrass outfit Trampled by Turtles has a nice bluegrass version of this song.)

Up next on Beatles For Sale is one of their best all-time covers, in my opinion, Chuck Berry’s “Rock and Roll Music.”

The song’s a rave-up, a salute to the heat and energy of rock and roll. John’s voice has been fantastic on the entire album so far – whether singing harmonies or taking the lead on a ballad – and he really nails this one. Interestingly, there aren’t any harmony vocals in the whole song. The band sounds like they’re having fun. It’s a song they’d performed for years by the time of the recording, and their love for the song shows. Producer George Martin plays piano, according to Mark Lewisohn, although the album’s original liner notes credited Martin, Lennon and McCartney on piano.

The boys often follow up a rocker with a softer song, and up next on Beatles For Sale is McCartney’s sweet “I’ll Follow the Sun.”

For a purportedly romantic song[ref]The song appeared on the 1977 Beatles compilation record Love Songs.[/ref], the song’s lyrics are actually kind of harsh, as Paul says – basically – hey, look, things are great between us, so I’m leaving before they have a chance to sour. But it’s a lovely song, with (as usual) great harmonies and a nice, simple guitar solo from George. And Ringo plays his lap instead of his drum kit, which is pretty cool. (Chet Atkins did an amazing cover of this song.)

So, I’m not gonna bullshit you guys. The next couple songs I really don’t like. “Mr. Moonlight” and “Kansas City/Hey Hey Hey Hey.” “Mr. Moonlight” sounds like the kind of song they had to play at respectable clubs in the late 50s and early 60s, but by this point they’ve outgrown the schmaltzy stuff, and could have picked a better cover. “KCHHH” is okay, but really just a less satisfying version of Chuck Berry, which they already did. Paul’s vocal is fantastic, but between the two songs there’s not much I find appealing, besides the fact that they lead into the fabulous “Eight Days a Week.”

One of the band’s most famous tracks, starting off with a then-new-sounding fade-in played by George on his 12-string, it’s a catchy singalong song co-written by Lennon and McCartney[ref]While all their songs were attributed to “Lennon/McCartney,” many were written by one or the other in the pair.[/ref] that became the band’s 7th U.S. number one song in a year. After the personal lyrics of “I’m a Loser” and “I’ll Follow the Sun,” this song reverts to the happy-mop-top-in-love genre that kicked off Beatlemania in the first place. Paul’s bass is great, and the band’s harmonies are perfect. It’s classic Beatle stuff. (Here’s soul superstar and “5th Beatle” Billy Preston’s[ref]He played on a number of Beatles’ songs on the Let It Be album.[/ref] cover of the song.)

“Eight Days a Week” opens the second side of Beatles For Sale, although it’s been 30 years since anyone really cared much about album sides. And the second side has some of my favorite covers that the band ever did, all of which feature Harrison’s guitar work. First up is the charming Buddy Holly original “Words of Love.” George’s guitar is what really makes this song excellent! His intricate playing was double-tracked, and it really adds some beef to a song that is soft enough for Ringo to have played a box instead of drums. “Honey Don’t” is the first of two Carl Perkins tunes on the record, this one sung by Ringo. It’s a standard blues tune with an extra measure in the middle that keeps it interesting. George (“The King,” according to Dr. Dave) takes lead vocals on the second Perkins tune “Everybody’s Trying to Be My Baby.”

All those covers have a rockabilly twang, a sound the group was into at the time. Though not on Beatles For Sale, the single “I Feel Fine” b/w “She’s a Woman” was also recorded around this time. One original in this vein that did make the record was “I Don’t Want to Spoil the Party.”

As with most of these style songs, George’s guitar takes center stage – there’s a nifty solo at 1:24. Also notable is John singing the lead with Paul taking a lower harmony – he’s typically on top. Paul takes the lead on the chorus, with George on harmony. It’s a fun, quick song with a return to the more personal lyrics, about running into an old flame. (Roseanne Cash did a nice country version of this song.) Not all of the songs on side two are country. “What You’re Doing” is a very British-Invasion-sounding song, with a cool guitar riff and a shout-out vocal. I didn’t find a cover of this song[ref]But my old favorite band from high school, Rush, had a cool song with the same title.[/ref].

I would have closed Beatles For Sale with the terrific “Every Little Thing.”

It’s a wonderful love song from Paul, sung by John, that borders on schmaltzy but is saved from it by George’s guitar and Ringo’s crashing timpani. The lyrics are lovey-dovey, but the melody is rather sad, creating a nice counter-balance. And did I mention anywhere that the Beatles do great harmonies? Because they do. (Prog rockers Yes, who I love, did a version of this song, believe it or not.)

My dad worked really hard, and he ended up with a lot to show for it. A happy family, many friends and a terrific reputation. He made something good out of all that hard work. The Beatles did too, obviously. They were exhausted, but they put it into their music and made a great record in Beatles For Sale.

TRACK LISTING:
“No Reply”
“I’m a Loser”
“Baby’s In Black”
“Rock and Roll Music”
“I’ll Follow the Sun”
“Mr. Moonlight”
“Kansas City/Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey”
“Eight Days a Week”
“Words of Love”
“Honey Don’t”
“Every Little Thing”
“I Don’t Want to Spoil the Party”
“What You’re Doing”
“Everybody’s Trying to Be My Baby”

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A Hint of What’s to Come

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I’ve avoided them too long. I’ll finally decide what my favorite Beatles albums are. Rankings coming soon …

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My Favorite Album: London Calling, by The Clash.

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London Calling. The Clash.
1980, Epic Records (U.S.). Producer: Guy Stevens, Mick Jones.
Purchased CD, Approx. 1992.

IN A NUTSHELL: London Calling, by The Clash, is, in my estimation, a perfect record. It’s got multiple styles, fun, catchy songs, thoughtful and emotional lyrics, and top-notch performances from the entire band. The songwriting/singing pair of Joe Strummer and Mick Jones is among the best songwriting duos in rock, and bassist Paul Simonon and drummer Topper Headon are unsung heroes behind it all. It’s earnest but fun, careful but sloppy, and it has 19 songs, so you’re getting a lot. It’s my favorite album ever.

NOTE: The setup – below the line ↓ – might be the best part … Or skip right to the album discussion.
~~~~

One thing I’ve come to understand about myself after 52 years as a human is that I’m really not very competitive. Sure, I enjoy playing games, and I played lots of sports when I was younger, and I’ve always tried to do my best to win. And yes, I’ve always rooted for certain sports teams. And while it’s true that winning can bring some joy, particularly when one of my kids is a participant, the reality is that it doesn’t provide me with much long-lasting satisfaction. Winning doesn’t motivate me.

This is true in my personal and professional life, as well. I do try to ensure that my family and I are treated fairly in life, and I try to make sure that my career isn’t stagnating. I suppose these facts mean that I am aware of, and invested in, the sort of Competition of Life that one enters simply by choosing to be part of a society. But I’ve never been much of a scorekeeper, tallying successes and failures, credits and debits, breaks and slights, of myself and the people around me[ref]As a white man, I’m the only group in America who is afforded this luxury, despite what whiny bigots like the current president think.[/ref]. Scorekeeping doesn’t interest me.

However, where competition intersects with my life, I do expect it to be fair – despite the fact that most of what passes for “fair competition” in American society is not really fair. For all the talk of an “American Dream” and an equal playing-field, and mythology like “self-made” successes, the fact remains that family wealth, not hard work, is still the best predictor of “success” in America.

These two facts about my character – a disinterest in competition and an expectation of fairness – are probably why I’ve always disliked “Greatest Album” compilations. Art is certainly not a competition, and even if an argument could be made that it is, there’s no way such a list could be fairly assembled, giving equal weight to all albums ever recorded.

This is why I’ve selected my FAVORITE albums instead of the BEST albums. I can’t explain to you why an album by an obscure Beatles-rip-off band is great, or why I prefer a pop album by a rather desperate-sounding prog-rock band a bit more than a cherished album by rock legends. How is it that a cult country rock singer could have an album that’s more enjoyable to me than one by a universally acclaimed guitar virtuoso? I don’t know. All I can tell you is what I like. And the album I like the most (besides, of course, all of The Beatles’ albums) is London Calling, by The Clash.

I’ve written before about getting into The Clash. I worked with a guy who couldn’t believe I was in a band and the only Clash songs I really knew were “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” and “Rock the Casbah.” He let me borrow the box set The Clash on Broadway, and they immediately became one of my favorite bands.

I don’t really remember purchasing London Calling. I think it was soon after I returned the box set to my friend, but I’m not really sure. With nearly every other record on this list (perhaps every single record), I can recall how and when I got it. But London Calling just feels like it’s always been with me. I know for sure I had it in the early 90s, when I first got a CD player and upgraded my album and cassette collection to this new format.

London Calling has everything I want from an album. It’s got great guitars and tremendous lyrics, and each song has a power and energy that stick with you long after the music ends. The vocals are cool, whether it’s Joe Strummer’s tune-less snarl or Mick Jones’s reedy tenor, or, best of all, when the pair sing together. Even bassist Paul Simonon gets to sing one, and he makes it sound cool, too. The rhythm section is always correct – sloppy when it needs to be, tight at other times – with drummer Topper Headon showing himself as the band’s unsung hero, keeping everything intact as the album careens through multiple genres and sounds. Listening to it is a moving experience, covering any emotion you can think of. To me, it’s the perfect record.

And it’s long, too – 19 songs – so I’m going to stop blabbing and get to the songs, starting with the title track: “London Calling.”

It opens with a guitar fanfare answered by Paul Simonon’s mighty bass riff, calling listeners to attention. Simonon, famously, had never played a note before joining the band in 1976, but the London Calling album shows he learned a lot in a few short years. Joe Strummer furiously spits out the song’s “it’s-all-going-to-hell” lyrics, while Mick Jones softens the “London Calling” refrain with his melodic backing vocals. Jones is a great guitar player, but instead of a solo the album version of the song has backwards-guitar, creating an eerie sound[ref]In live performances, Jones played a real solo.[/ref] that heightens the song’s desperation. It’s a standout opening track among rock albums, the type that makes the listener wonder, “How will they top that?”

The next couple songs might make a listener think they’re not going to try. “Brand New Cadillac” is a fine song, a cover of a UK rockabilly song by Vince Taylor about a girlfriend’s new car. It’s straightforward, and notable for drummer Topper Headon’s insistent bass drum and Jones’s guitar. And “Jimmy Jazz” certainly shows the band isn’t going to be constrained by their punk rock past. The song, about not giving up a suspect to the police, has horns, flanged guitars, and a Chicago blues feel. They’re both good songs, but they’re not on par with the opener, or, perhaps, the rest of the album.

Hateful” rides a Bo Diddly beat to its sing-along chorus. It features terrific vocals, and once again stand-out drumming from Headon. Joe Strummer writes all the band’s lyrics (usually), and he’s known for his political messages. However, this song is a personal song about drug addiction and its effects. Next is what may be (I’ll say this about five or six songs, I’m sure) my favorite on the album: “Rudie Can’t Fail.”

There’s flanged guitar all over London Calling, and it appears in the opening of “Rudie Can’t Fail.” I love how Joe encourages, “sing, Michael, sing!” and the terrific horn part in the intro. The rhythm section once again are unsung heroes, keeping afloat a ragtag song about young folks who don’t want to hear the complaints of the adults around them. They’ve got their chicken-skin suits and pork-pie hats, and that’s just fine. It’s a fun, bouncy, reggae-ish song, with chugga-chug guitars that’s fun to sing along. And not only can the band do fun, they can do serious, too – as on the awesome “Spanish Bombs,” another song that is my favorite.

The voices of Jones and Strummer blend so well on this song – one of the few where Strummer carries a tune. There’s a cool acoustic guitar strumming throughout, however I’ve heard that it was actually Jones’s electric guitar strings mic’ed separately from his amplifier, creating an acoustic sound. It’s really cool, as is all of Jones’s subtle guitar work throughout. The lyrics describe the Spanish Civil War in the late 1930s, and makes connections with the IRA, whose efforts were in full force in the late 70s. The pair sing in pigeon Spanish on the chorus, roughly translated as “I love you forever, I love you oh my heart.” Strummer demonstrates his lyrical range by following this song up with “The Right Profile,” a horn-driven affair with great guitars, about the sad story of former matinee star Montgomery Clift, whose beautiful face was badly scarred in a car accident.

The genres and styles keep piling up on London Calling, as the excellent dance/pop, XTC-esque “Lost in the Supermarket” is up next. The lyrics, about a childhood in the suburbs and the false promise of consumerism, were written by Strummer, but he wrote it from Jones’s perspective, for Mick to sing.

The bass and drums provide a near-disco rhythm that Jones’s riff sits atop. The band has a penchant for opening songs with a chorus or bridge, as opposed to the typical verse, and here the chorus begins things. Mick’s chiming guitar, at 0:39, when the verse starts, sounds great. He plays and sings brilliantly throughout. Topper Headon’s dance beat is insistent, providing the sound of Jones’s “giant hit discotheque album.” It’s sad but upbeat, personal yet universal. And it leads into another song that is my favorite on the album: “Clampdown.”

This is perhaps the ultimate Clash song, the type of song I associate with the band: angry and righteous, yet fun and singalong good. It’s Joe Strummer at his best, from his mumbling opening through the final “I’m givin’ away no secrets!” It’s about the connection between fascism and corporate life – something anyone who’s had a corporate job has felt. I’d love to go line by line through all the lyrics, because they’re brilliant. But in particular, as a guy reflecting on 30 years of personal corporate bullshit, lines like “Let fury have the hour/ Anger can be power,” and “You grow up and you calm down …/ You start wearin’ blue and brown/ And working for the Clampdown” really resonate. The music behind the lyrics is excellent as well. Mick Jones sweetens Strummer’s vocals with his harmonies and backing vocals, and as usual, Topper Headon’s drumming is brilliant. Plus there are plenty of guitar licks that add the perfect touch, such as the call to action at 1:15. (Here’s a clip of them playing it live on the old US TV show Fridays.)

The band cools it down a little next, with a song written and sung by bassist Paul Simonon, the reggae-inspired “The Guns of Brixton.” The lyrics – about police violence and oppression – are still very relevant today. It’s a song that shows the band’s versatility, as does the next track, the irreverent cover of another old reggae song, “Wrong ‘Em Boyo.” It’s fun ska, and Mick and Joe’s voices sound terrific against a horn section and sax solo.

But after those two digressions, they’re back on the punk power bus with the excellent (and once again, my favorite song) “Death or Glory.”

It’s a song about failing to live up to the punk and rock ‘n roll ideals, when “Death or Glory becomes just another story.” It’s a song with an interesting structure, as it begins with the pre-chorus and chorus before starting in on the verses. This song is another Topper Headon tour de force – his fill at 0:20 is brilliant, and the drum break from 1:33 to change style to disco is tremendous. It’s also one of Strummer’s best vocals on the record. He stays close enough to a tune as he ever does, and his emotion can’t be contained.

The next song, “Koka Kola,” is a quick, fun Mick and Joe collaboration with excellent guitar stabs from Mick, a bubbly bass from Simonon, and clever lyrics about cocaine’s unacknowledged place in the corporate world. “Know wut-a-mean?” After that, “The Card Cheat” brings some Wall of Sound production pomp to the record.

I’m not a huge Bruce Springsteen fan, but in his autobiography[ref]Which is excellent, whether or not you’re a fan.[/ref] he mentioned his admiration for Joe Strummer and The Clash, and this song – with its opening piano, horns and 60s-girl-group drums – sounds like the band is paying homage to The Boss. Each instrument was recorded twice so that the sound would be as huge as possible. Mick Jones carries the lead vocals and does a wonderful job on a consideration of what really matters in life. It’s a powerful song that I grow fonder of as I age.

While I have plenty of songs on the album that I think of as my favorite song, I only have a couple that are my least favorite, and the band kindly put them next to each other on the record! They’re not awful, but “Lover’s Rock,” a cheeky celebration of the birth control pill with a disco breakdown, and “Four Horsemen,” a straight ahead rocker about making the most of your life, are just okay, in my opinion. Certainly not skippable – but just a bit less than the others.

“I’m Not Down,” on the other hand, displays everything I love about London Calling – except for not much Strummer.

Mick Jones carries the vocals and plays great guitar throughout. Simonon and Headon are at their best, for example at about 0:55, when the song suddenly develops a calypso beat, or 1:31, when it takes on a Motown-style breakdown. And check out Headon’s fill at about 1:41! Jones wrote the song about persevering in the face of depression and hardship, lyrics that reference real events in his life, such as being beaten up by a gang of rockers in 1978.

Before the band wraps up the album, they throw in another reggae cover song, this time “Revolution Rock,” originally done by Danny Ray and the Revolutionaries. It’s got very Clash-esque, confrontational lyrics, and the band makes it their own. Then London Calling closes with one of the band’s most popular songs, “Train in Vain.” (Like many, you may have thought it was titled “Stand By Me.”)

It’s another song written by Mick Jones, and it famously was nearly left off the album because it was recorded so late in the sessions. (Original pressings didn’t list the song’s title.) It’s a fun, catchy number, with a great Simonon bass. But what I particularly love (it’s also my favorite song on the album!) are the honest, heart-achey lyrics. The following lines have always stuck with me as very good: “Now I’ve got a job/ But it don’t pay/ I need new clothes/ I need somewhere to stay/ But without all of these things I can do/ But without your love/ I won’t make it through.” It’s a soulful number, which is really evident in Annie Lennox’s great cover version. It’s a perfect closing track to what – to me – is about as close to a perfect album as any non-Beatles band ever made.

So there it is, folks. 100 Favorite Albums. It’s been so much fun writing these the past five or six years! I plan to keep doing some other music writing, but I’m not sure what. Whatever it is, it will appear here at 100favealbums.net. I really appreciate you reading, and I invite you to reach out and say hello.

And if you want to hear more from my list: here’s a Spotify playlist with a few songs from each album.

TRACK LISTING:
“London Calling”
“Brand New Cadillac”
“Jimmy Jazz”
“Hateful”
“Rudie Can’t Fail”
“Spanish Bombs”
“The Right Profile”
“Lost in the Supermarket”
“Clampdown”
“The Guns of Brixton”
“Wrong ‘Em Boyo”
“Death or Glory”
“Koka Kola”
“The Card Cheat”
“Lover’s Rock”
“Four Horsemen”
“I’m Not Down”
“Revolution Rock”
“Train in Vain”

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A Quick Recap of #’s 100 – 2

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Listen, I’ve spent 6 years doing this crazy project. I’m sure you’ve missed a record or two. So allow me to give you a quick recap …

REMEMBER: records by The Beatles were ineligible because they are too good to mingle with the mere mortals on this list.

ALSO REMEMBER: These are FAVORITES, not best ever …

100 – 91

100 – Boys and Girls in America, The Hold Steady.
99 – Back in Black, AC/DC.
98 – Chutes Too Narrow, The Shins.
97 – Empty Glass, Pete Townshend.
96 – De Nova, The Redwalls.
95 – Sticky Fingers, The Rolling Stones.
94 – New York Dolls, The New York Dolls.
93 – Songs in the Attic, Billy Joel.
92 – Fly By Night, Rush.
91 – Some Girls, The Rolling Stones.

90 – 81

90 – Appetite for Destruction, Guns N’ Roses.
89 – At Folsom Prison, Johnny Cash.
88 – Dig Me Out, Sleater-Kinney.
87 – Blunderbuss, Jack White.
86 – Made in USA, Pizzicato Five.
85 – 90125, Yes.
84 – Moondance, Van Morrison.
83 – News of the World, Queen.
82 – The Joshua Tree, U2.
81 – The Wall, Pink Floyd.

80 – 71

80 – Freedom, Neil Young.
79 – Zenyatta Mondatta, The Police.
78 – Good Old Boys, Randy Newman.
77 – Dirty, Sonic Youth.
76 – Band of Gypsys, Jimi Hendrix.
75 – Astoria, The Shys.
74 – Nothing’s Shocking, Jane’s Addiction.
73 – Extraordinary Machine, Fiona Apple.
72 – Let It Be, The Replacements.
71 – Purple Rain, Prince and the Revolution.

70 – 61

70 – Imperial Bedroom, Elvis Costello and The Attractions.
69 – Jailbreak, Thin Lizzy.
68 – The Clash, The Clash.
67 – Skylarking, XTC.
66 – Aja, Steely Dan.
65 – Close to the Edge, Yes.
64 – Nevermind, Nirvana.
63 – Turns Into Stone, The Stone Roses.
62 – Pretenders, The Pretenders.
61 – Songs For The Deaf, Queens of the Stone Age.

60 – 51

60 – Z, My Morning Jacket.
59 – Led Zeppelin, Led Zeppelin.
58 – OK Computer, Radiohead.
57 – When I Was Born for the 7th Time, Cornershop.
56 – Blood & Chocolate, Elvis Costello and The Attractions.
55 – The Decline and Fall of Heavenly, Heavenly.
54 – Rumours, Fleetwood Mac.
53 – Riot Act, Pearl Jam.
52 – Superunknown, Soundgarden.
51 – If You Didn’t Laugh You’d Cry, Marah.

50 – 41

50 – Axis: Bold as Love, The Jimi Hendrix Experience.
49 – Godspeed The Shazam, The Shazam.
48 – Animals, Pink Floyd.
47 – Fair Warning, Van Halen.
46 – This Year’s Model, Elvis Costello and The Attractions.
45 – Stay Positive, The Hold Steady.
44 – Learning To Crawl, The Pretenders.
43 – The Royal Scam, Steely Dan.
42 – Making Movies, Dire Straits.
41 – … And Out Come The Wolves, Rancid.

40 – 31

40 – Two Shoes, The Cat Empire.
39 – Are You Experienced, The Jimi Hendrix Experience.
38 – Paranoid, Black Sabbath.
37 – Who’s Next, The Who.
36 – Life, Love and Leaving, The Detroit Cobras.
35 – Bee Thousand, Guided By Voices.
34 – The Cars, The Cars.
33 – Sign O’ the Times, Prince.
32 – Girlfriend, Matthew Sweet.
31 – Moving Pictures, Rush.

30 – 21

30 – Doolittle, The Pixies.
29 – Automatic For The People, R.E.M.
28 – Star, Belly.
27 – Van Halen, Van Halen.
26 – The Dark Side of the Moon, Pink Floyd.
25 – The Fine Art of Surfacing, The Boomtown Rats.
24 – Houses of the Holy, Led Zeppelin.
23 – We Love the City, Hefner.
22 – Tim, The Replacements.
21 – War, U2.

20 – 11

20 – Ghost in the Machine, The Police.
19 – Hey, Babe, Juliana Hatfield.
18 – Get Happy!!, Elvis Costello and The Attractions.
17 – Flood, The April Skies.
16 – Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, Lucinda Williams.
15 – Exile on Main St., The Rolling Stones.
14 – You Gotta Sin to Get Saved, Maria McKee.
13 – American Idiot, Green Day.
12 – Give the People What They Want, The Kinks.
11 – Damn the Torpedoes, Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers.

10 – 2

10 – The Bends, Radiohead.
9 – Countdown to Ecstasy, Steely Dan.
8 – Rust Never Sleeps, Neil Young and Crazy Horse.
7 – Reckoning, R.E.M.
6 – Pleased to Meet Me, The Replacements.
5 – Oranges and Lemons, XTC.
4 – Let Me Come Over, Buffalo Tom.
3 – More Fun in the New World, X.
2 – The Stone Roses, The Stone Roses.

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2nd Favorite Album: The Stone Roses

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The Stone Roses. The Stone Roses.
1989, Silvertone. Producer: John Leckie, Peter Hook.
Purloined CD (U.S. Version), 1991.

IN A NUTSHELL: The Stone Roses, by The Stone Roses, is a record I’ve listened to more than any other over the last 30 years. It’s a rock record with excellent guitar, drums and bass, with funky beats and terrific harmonies. Ian Brown, John Squire, Mani and Reni have taken bits of song styles and sounds and synthesized something original and fun, from dance club grooves to subtle tunes to raucous rock. The record has never sounded old, and it never gets old, even after years and years of listening.

NOTE: The setup – below the line ↓ – might be the best part … Or skip right to the album discussion.
~~~~

Last year, 2018, was the 200th anniversary of the publication of Mary Shelley’s classic novel, Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus. Most people are familiar with the story from its multitude of productions, revivals, re-workings, the brilliant Mel Brooks movie, the equally-brilliant Bugs Bunny episode, etc. The original novel, in which a fanatical genius tries to reanimate dead flesh, was written as part of a lighthearted challenge from the poet Lord Byron to the teen-aged Shelley and her husband, the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, to write a scary story. Eighteen months later it was published anonymously, as the thought that a woman could conjure such a horrible idea was too shocking for the public.

It wasn’t until the mid 20th century that scholars finally accepted the fact that a talented young woman could, indeed, make up such a story on her own. But be that as it may, the idea of taking parts of formerly-living beings, sewing them together and reanimating them has fascinated humans ever since. She based her story on the real experiments of Luigi Galvani, an 18th century Italian scientist who, in attempting to expand on the observation that recently dead frog legs could be made to move when electricity was applied, zapped entire corpses with jolts of electricity[ref]These experiments led to the term “Galvanized,” as in “a Galvinized human,” meaning a human brought back to life by electrical stimulation. The term was later adapted to its current usage of using electricity to apply a metal coating, typically zinc, to another metal to prevent rusting.[/ref]. And upon its publication, the book inspired the work of real scientists in the 19th century[ref]Similar attempts and ideas have popped up, ever since, even today.[/ref].

Shelley’s novel remains popular after 200 years, sitting on lists of best novels and still regularly assigned in high school, in part because of the tempting notion that a possibility exists to keep life alive indefinitely. Something else that interests folks is the idea of taking parts from different Things and assembling them to create a New, Better Thing. For example, create the best NBA player. Create the best animal. Create the best rock group. It’s a fun exercise.

So let me assemble my Frankenstein Greatest Rock Album – not using individual musicians, but just by taking parts I generally really like in music. Let’s start with drums. I’d take, from my love of classic and prog rock, drums that are inventive and unusual. However, I also grew up on disco, and love a strong, danceable backbeat, so it can’t be too complex. But I do like the drummer to exhibit chops. That’s a lot of boxes for the drums to check, but just like Victor Frankenstein, my task is not easy, nor for the faint of heart!

via GIPHY

As for bass guitar, I like a grounded but cool bass line, one that gets people dancing, but that isn’t afraid to show off once in a while. It has to play off the guitar nicely, but not necessarily overshadow it.

As for vocals, it really doesn’t matter. A good voice is nice, but it’s not really necessary. Emotional singers are appreciated, but mostly I just like a good melody, and if there are some lyrical gems, they are appreciated, too. But word-salad, mumbled, esoteric meanings are fine with me.

Guitar is key. I’ve written this before. I like it crazy, I like it original, I like it subtle, or noisy, or soft, or cool, or jazzy, or effects-laden, or complex, or powerful, or simple. Whatever it is, it has to be interesting, and serve the song in a way that makes me want to listen repeatedly. Even if it’s just two notes that repeat, it has to hold my attention.

Other instruments are fine, but unnecessary. Then there are the intangibles. I like the sneer of punk rock, but the technical mastery of seasoned pros. Above all, there must be some sort of a Beatles vibe, and it would probably be best if this fictional band could come from Great Britain, and in particular, its working class.

But, you say, this task is impossible! How could there ever be a band or album like this, that could ever be stitched together from disparate pieces to create a living, breathing, Favorite Album?? Why, you say, this is madness!! I don’t think it’s Madness, as I’ve always found them a bit too ska-heavy to be perfect[ref]This musical pun was to have been removed by my final editor, but it somehow made it through. I apologize.[/ref]. But I know an album that, from the first time I heard it at a party in 1990, has been in heavy rotation due to its Frankenstein-ian perfection: The Stone Roses, by The Stone Roses.

Sometime in the winter of 1990, as 1991 approached, I was at a party with my friend Cary, whose band I would eventually join. I was quite inebriated, and all I really remember about the party is that it was at an apartment in downtown Lebanon, PA, and I really loved the CD that was playing, The Stone Roses, and the host of the party said I could borrow it. I still have it. It is most likely my most-played, non-Beatles CD over the past 29 years.

The Stone Roses are a band that is largely unknown in the United States, but that is widely loved in the UK, where it came out of the hyper-fertile Manchester music scene that also produced The Buzzcocks, Joy Division, New Order, The Smiths, Simply Red, The Happy Mondays and Oasis. In the late 80s The Stone Roses were at the vanguard of the “Madchester” scene, which was full of MDMA and raves[ref]And was the subject of the 2002 U.K. film “24 Hour Party People.”[/ref]. The US, on the whole, never fully drank from the Madchester vessel, but some of its wannabe backwash reached our shores in the form of 3rd- or 4th-generation one-hit wonders like “Unbelievable,” by EMF, and “Right Here, Right Now,” by Jesus Jones.

In the U.K., the band, which officially broke up in 1996 after an 11-year career in which they released only two albums of original music, plus several singles, has had numerous chart hits, including a Top 20 song as recently as 2016, when they briefly re-formed. They caused a stir among the U.K. music press when they announced reunion shows in 2012. They’re popular enough in the U.K. that bucket hats there are often called “Reni hats,” after the band’s drummer, Reni, who typically wore one in the band’s heyday. Singer Ian Brown cameoed in a Harry Potter movie. Among rock musicians, they have enough cache that guitar monster Slash considered joining them in the 90s. (Although, reportedly, he was rejected due to his leather pants.) Their 2012 reunion tour was the subject of a feature film. It’s amazing to me that they’re so overlooked in the U.S., where they played the Coachella festival a few years ago to tiny crowds, while in the U.K. major newspapers still run stories on the enormity of their legacy.

I became rather obsessed with the band after hearing them. My band had more than a few Stone Roses affectations, and we covered a couple of their songs. I bought a few 12″ singles, even though I had no record player. I bought their singles collection (and rule-breaking Favorite Album #63) Turns Into Stone. I anxiously awaited their follow-up record, 1994’s Second Coming, and bought it on the first day it was available. I listened to their debut over and over. I read books about them. I watched BBC TV shows about them, and clips of old TV appearances and concerts. They remain – despite only two albums’ and several singles’ worth of material – among my favorite bands.

In fact, I’m as surprised as anyone that The Stone Roses is NOT MY NUMBER ONE ALBUM! I was shocked when the rankings were released by the Pricewaterhouse Coopers accounting firm, and nearly fired them over it. So let’s see what all my fuss is about.

The album begins with “I Wanna Be Adored,” a song that rumbles to a start after nearly 50 seconds of noise, an opening worthy of prog titans Yes. Then bassist Mani[ref]Orignially credited as Colin Mounfield.[/ref] begins a simple, but catchy, bass line. At 0:56 guitarist John Squire plays a lilting guitar figure, with a nifty curlicue end. By 1:14, Reni’s bass drum is thumping along and then at 1:30 the rest of his kit kicks in, and the song’s main theme begins. Ian Brown’s few lyrics are funny and dark, and offer a boast superior to bluesmen and rockers of yesteryear: “I don’t have to sell my soul/ he’s already in me.” The song continues to build, and at 2:22 Reni mixes the drums up and begins to add more cymbals, until 3:00, when the band hammers a bridge that releases all the pent up energy that’s been building. At 3:40 it begins building again to the end. As a song, there’s not much to it. It’s just energy and attitude with a groovy rhythm section and cool guitars swirling throughout. It’s an opening statement as much as a song.

Next up is a song that’s more traditional in its composition and sound, but that retains its Stone Rosiness, perhaps my favorite of the album, “She Bangs the Drums.” (Actually, it’s hard to say if this is my favorite, as nearly every song is my favorite.)

“She Bangs the Drums” opens with Reni’s high-hat and Mani’s Peter-Gunn-esque bassline, then Squire’s guitar washes over things and Brown’s whisper voice enters. This is the first song to really showcase drummer Reni’s remarkable harmony voice, which enters on the second verse, about 0:45. As a huge Beatle guy, I love harmony vocals, and the voices of Reni and Brown blend perfectly. Brown’s lyrics are often indecipherable, but this is a pretty straightforward love song, and it has a line about feelings of attraction that I love: “She’ll be the first/ She’ll be the last/ To describe the way I feel.” This song is a classic pop song with incredible guitar and a fabulously catchy chorus (1:10). This is the type of song that I think should’ve been a #1 hit, but which only made it to #34 on the UK charts.

I have the US version of the Silvertone release, and that means the next song is “Elephant Stone,” a song that had many versions released over the years.

This one is all about drummer Reni, his bass drum, his snare, his toms. Sure, John Squire has a nice opening, and does his usual subtle trickery, on both electric and acoustic guitar, underneath the proceedings. Mani chugs along, and Brown sings psychedelic-influenced lyrics, which Reni supports superbly on harmony. But it’s all about Reni’s drums this time. He’s both smooth and aggressive, both at the same time.

Reni’s drums are amazing throughout the album, and that’s certainly the case on a song that is one of the band’s most popular, “Waterfall.” The song is also a showcase of John Squire’s guitar talents, too.

It opens with Squire playing an arpeggiated riff against Mani’s ranging bassline. After a verse, at about 0:33, Reni’s drums and harmony vocals begin, and both are just brilliant. He hits the snare on the upbeat before the “two,” where a typical backbeat falls, all the while making the whole thing swing. At 1:00, the beat changes slightly and the band continues to groove ahead, with Ian Brown singing lyrics describing a woman with steely resolve as a waterfall[ref]Brown often has a feminist slant to his lyrics. On their 1994 hit “Love Spreads” he sings, “The messiah is my sister/ ain’t no king, man, she’s my queen.”[/ref]. Each time he sings “she’ll carry on through it all,” Reni answers with a sweet drum fill. The song transforms (prog-rock-like) into a different piece of music at 2:50, with acoustic picking, which leads into John Squire’s remarkably cool guitar solo at 2:57. All the while Mani is pushing that hypnotic bass, and it all recapitulates at 4:00, with frantic Reni drums. I friggin’ love this song. Here the band plays it live on the BBC.

The next song is “Don’t Stop,” a sound collage with words that is kind of “Waterfall” played backwards. I don’t really like it – maybe this is why the album is only #2? – but I read a cool piece breaking down the making of the song. This is the link to it.

Up next is “Bye Bye Badman,” a song that eventually becomes a sort of danceable country tune. In a (very) good way.

It begins as a kind of lullaby, with wispy guitars and swooping bass. The lyrics are about the Paris riots of 1968, which the album cover art also alludes to, a display of the band’s socialist/punk credibility. At 1:05, Mani begins a rolling bassline and Reni adds a Western-swing style beat, which Squire supports with a country guitar. Reni’s fill at 1:33 is excellent. It’s a weird song. Squire plays a brief solo at 3:00 that repeats and stretches into the outro.

Up next is the brief, dark, barely veiled threat against the U.K. monarchy, “Elizabeth My Dear,” which is the English folk tune “Scarborough Fair” with scarier lyrics. The song seems kind of throwaway, which is what I think should be done with all monarchies.

(Song for My) Sugar Spun Sister” is a song that is sweet and mellow. It’s a good feature for Ian Brown, who really doesn’t have a strong voice, but somehow makes it work[ref]He’s actually been the most successful solo Stone Rose, with 3 U.K. Top Ten hits, and 15 in the Top 40. He just released an album late last year that wasn’t too shabby![/ref]. The lyrics are a kind of hallucinogenic love song in which a boy eats too much cotton candy because he loves the girl selling it. It’s one of the most straightforward songs on the record, sort of a mid tempo, 60s-influenced pop number. And of course, Reni’s drums and harmonies are masterful.

The Stone Roses closes with a string of four songs that is among my favorite run of songs on any album. (It would be three songs, but I have the US version, which tagged an extra song on the end.) First on this list is the ominous, tough guitar/drum showcase “Made of Stone.”

The opening guitar and bass are terrific, then the band backs off to let Brown carry things for a verse. In the classic Stone Roses style, the song builds with each verse, adding layers of guitar, until the chorus hits at 0:48, where Squire’s acoustic picking supports Brown and Reni’s harmonies. The song has a mysterious mood, and it is reportedly about Jackson Pollock’s fatal car crash[ref]John Squire went to art school and painted the group’s Pollock-inspired album cover, and most of the band’s album and single sleeves. The band’s lyrics have also mentioned Pollock’s works.[/ref]. But each time the chorus comes along, I can’t help singing along. And Squire’s guitar solo, about 2:37, is great. The ending of the song, from 3:52, is just fabulous, and ties everything together perfectly.

The next song, “Shoot You Down,” is a hushed tune with lilting solo guitar throughout about a man who wishes he hadn’t begun dating his girlfriend[ref]I don’t take the term “shoot” literally, like with a gun. I take it as shooting down a request. The band, and Ian Brown, aren’t really gun-shooting types.[/ref]. Squire is brilliant here, tasty and cool all through the song, culminating with nifty turns around 3:00 and a great closing by the whole band.

“Turns Into Stone” has one of the great intros in rock, which they extend to a Yes-like two minutes while swinging back and forth between Mani’s solo bass, or Ian Brown’s thin, solo voice, to full-band fanfare.

The song really kicks in at about 1:50 when Reni and Squire show up to once again steal the show with drums and harmony, and big guitar sound and stylish runs. Brown’s lyrics work best when they’re cocky, as here, where he avers that This Is the One She’s Waited For. The song has a sound I get lost in, especially from 3:02 to the end, where layers upon layers of voices and guitars wash over frantic, tribal drumming. It’s a song that really sets the stage, as the next song, “I Am the Resurrection,” truly is the one I always wait for.

The song opens with a marching drumbeat reminiscent of an old Pretenders song. The vocals start soon, and then the song builds, slowly, with every verse. This song is a long one, with multiple parts, and the band lets the intensity build with each verse and chorus, leading to a tantalizing note (0:58) which returns to the beginning with no payoff through three verses. After the first verse, Squire begins adding his patented dipsy-do’s, letting his sounds build along with the song. The payoff finally comes at about 2:24, when Brown declares “I am the resurrection.” His lyrics are, again, arrogant, pushing away a person (an ex? a journalist?) by not only being downright mean, but by comparing himself to Christ[ref]This got the band referenced by Biblical scholar James Crossley in an academic paper on religion and Manchester music.[/ref]. At 2:44, Squire plays a terrific solo that foreshadows the guitar extravaganza to come, beginning at 3:44. It’s a section, I’m sure, British music publication Q Magazine was thinking of when they named this song the 10th best guitar song ever in rock. I won’t say anything about it – just listen to Reni, Mani and Squire jam. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Wasn’t that fucking awesome? The original, U.K. version of the album ended there. The U.S. version, which I have, includes the song “Fools Gold,” which was a top-ten single in the U.K. and had such a dance-club following that the label tacked it on here. It’s a groovy, fun dance song with cool guitar riff, great wah-wah guitar and some kind of Treasure of the Sierra Madre-referencing lyrics from Brown.

So there’s my Frankenstein band and album: The Stone Roses. If you’ve read the Frankenstein books, or seen the movies, you know that usually these experiments don’t work, and that things come to a horrible end. And perhaps the fact that the band recorded so few songs is evidence that it didn’t work. But briefly, for one album at least, the dark potential of Mary Shelley’s imagination, as filtered through my musical taste, was realized. I love this monster, which never incited any angry mobs. Only dancing mobs of late-80s, U.K. music fans and me.

TRACK LISTING (1989 U.S. Version):
“I Wanna Be Adored”
“She Bangs the Drums”
“Elephant Stone”
“Waterfall”
“Don’t Stop”
“Bye Bye Badman”
“Elizabeth My Dear”
“(Song For My) Sugar Spun Sister”
“Made of Stone”
“Shoot You Down”
“This Is the One”
“I Am the Resurrection”
“Fools Gold”

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