Track #7: “She Said She Said” Revolver (1966)

Welcome to Track Chatter, where we choose a different song to discuss in depth. This entry is part of an ongoing series in which we reconsider songs by The Beatles. Can anything new be said about this band or its music? Have a look below and let us know what you think.

Aaron: Lucky number 7. Revolver, released in the UK in August of 1966, is The Beatles’ seventh album. It is also the final album to be released in different versions for the UK and US markets – in this case, the difference being that “And Your Bird Can Sing,” “Doctor Robert,” and “I’m Only Sleeping,” which appeared on Revolver in the UK, had already been released in the US as tracks on Yesterday and Today earlier that summer. No additional tracks were added to the US version of Revolver, so it was simply three tracks shorter than the UK version.

Before moving on to a discussion of the album and this entry’s track, I think it’s worth pointing out that The Beatles’ first album, Please Please Me, had been released in March of 1963. Thus, in just over three years, the band released seven albums – seven albums that include, whatever one’s opinion of the band or its music, some of the most memorable and well-known popular music ever recorded: a fairly amazing feat by any standard. It’s difficult to imagine any pop artist today working at such a fever pitch.

Revolver, much like its predecessor, has become one of the albums that it’s safe for almost anybody to like – fan and non-fan alike. The songwriting and musical arrangements show a noticeable amount of maturity over their earlier, “bubble gum” phase. At the same time, their studio experimentation has not yet progressed to the point of what some see as the indulgence of later efforts. In short, both Rubber Soul and Revolver see a band that has found a way to balance all its many talents in the service of forward-thinking, immaculately produced, driving pop classics. Revolver includes such tracks as “Eleanor Rigby,” one of their strongest lyrical expressions, the infectious, joyous pop of “And Your Bird Can Sing,” the silliness of “Yellow Submarine” (which, silliness aside, is one of the catchiest pop songs ever written – just try to get it out of your head now . . . “we all live in a . . .”), and the psychedelic experimentation of “Tomorrow Never Knows.”

The track we’ll be discussing for this entry is “She Said She Said,” a Lennon/McCartney number that is, in effect, so much a Lennon number that it is one of the very few Beatles’ tracks on which McCartney makes no appearance at all – in addition to his lead guitar duties, George Harrison plays bass. It’s a song that deftly represents much of what makes Revolver such a strong album – excellent musicianship (anybody who can still say Ringo’s not a good drummer after listening to “She Said She Said” just isn’t listening), expressionistic lyrical experimentation, gorgeous production sheen, and hints of psychedelia. It’s a track on which, as Ian MacDonald argues, Lennon is at the summit of his creativity.



I thought it might be interesting to kick off the discussion by returning to some questions we raised early in the series about relevance and listenability. What do you think, Lew, could “She Said She Said” find a place in the contemporary pop landscape? Is there any pop or rock today that owes it a debt?

Lew: I think “She Said She Said” would be regarded as a brilliant pop song if it were released today. In our discussion of “You Won’t See Me,” we talked about the “Beatles sound” that gets used to describe certain songs, and I think that, in some respects, “She Said She Said” is an even better example. Although there are definitely some exceptions, a good number of songs that are copping a Beatlesque sound often include some allusion to psychedelia. Now, needless to say, psychedelic music doesn't start and end with The Beatles (although the perception that it does is probably a source of irritation for non-fans) – a quick overview of the Nuggets collection gives ample evidence of that. Nevertheless, “She Said She Said” is a great example of a song that is able to successfully flirt with elements of psychedelia (as you noted) without being subsumed by it. I actually prefer “expressionist” or “surrealist” as descriptors, but that's beside the point. The subject matter is obscure, even arguably abstract – although it’s relating a specific conversation, it also seems to be hinting at some kind of existential crisis brought on by the experience. I would say that even hinting at something abstract/theoretical was fairly uncommon in rock music at the time that Revolver was released. So, to answer your question about whether or not there is pop or rock in the current landscape that owes a song like “She Said She Said” a debt, I would answer yes with no hesitation. Bands like XTC (and their alter ego The Dukes of Stratosphear) owed a substantial debt to the Beatles, and there are a number of one-off songs in which bands invoke the general sound that's happening on “She Said She Said” to some extent (Soundgarden’s “Black Hole Sun,” Oasis’s “Champagne Supernova,” The Raconteurs’ “Intimate Secretary” and so on) but in a larger sense, I think that you can make an argument that “She Said She Said” is an early, and highly influential example of abstraction in rock music, and as such, influential in ways that are less immediate than the obvious power pop homages. How do you feel about that idea?

Aaron: I’m ready to go along with your terminology (“expressionist,” “abstract”) without totally abandoning the “pyschedelia” term, if only because it’s useful and it does ground the group in the era (hopefully without burying them there). I’ll come back to that in just a minute. First, I thought it might be worth dwelling on the song’s sound for just a moment longer. Part of what makes the track such a fine example of its era’s experimentation, I think, is its drone. “She Said She Said” isn’t the first song – Beatles or otherwise – to include such a drone (which seems to have been influenced by their obvious appreciation of Indian music). I think, for The Beatles, it first crops up in “Ticket To Ride” from Help!. In both songs, the drone comes in large part from the bass. However, as we’ve pointed out, Paul doesn’t play bass on “She Said She Said” – it’s George. And I think that’s important because, as we discussed with “You Won’t See Me,” by this stage in the band’s career, Paul’s bass playing was undergoing some noticeable changes in terms of the highly melodic, sometimes walking bass lines he was employing. He was good enough in the studio (great, actually) that had he played on “She Said She Said,” he likely would have modified his style enough to serve the song. But I wonder how much his presence might have affected the result, perhaps altering that drone to a certain extent.

Even with the drone, I agree with you that “psychedelia” as a term needs refining – it’s too broad and covers too many different media to have any precise meaning on its own. And as I said, I particularly like your terms “expressionist” and “abstract” – particularly in the way they describe the lyrical content on this song. I think most people probably know about the song’s genesis – the acid trip in LA, Peter Fonda bumming everybody out with his talk of having once died as a child, and so on – but its precisely Lennon’s ability to make that experience abstract by avoiding any type of exposition. It might seem – on its face – that a song composed almost entirely of “dialogue” would be very concrete. But by making the lyrics free of setting, scene, even, really, character, Lennon upends a lot of the songwriting trends that had been emerging in pop over the previous years. So the song does become expressive of its mood or feeling, rather than a story about an event or a girl. I think it’s the combination of that expressionistic approach to lyrics combined with the music – the drone, but also the swirling lead guitar parts (which sound like sitars), Ringo’s incredible, sort of rolling drums which both reinforce the lead guitars and also provide a kind of counterpoint to them, and the time signature change for the bridge – which add up to a great psychedelic pop song.

Lew: I think your discussion of the drone quality in “She Said She Said” is right on the money. I’m curious about what might have happened if Paul had played bass on this song, too. Although Paul is one of my favorite bass players, I don’t think he would have necessarily embraced that droning quality in the same way that George did – especially from a rhythmic perspective. Having said that, I think that pretty much everything about the song’s performance and recording contributes to that feeling. The lead guitar parts are perfect, from the actual playing (which is pretty drone-y in spots) to the sound of the guitar. It’s a great use of the overdriven sound that was available to them at the time. I also want to mention Ringo’s playing – it’s a great example of a Ringo moment that sounds quite different from the straighter, more restrained playing that I think people expect from him. Again, I think that’s more of a case of perception than reality – we’ve talked about a few of Ringo’s parts, and it’s clear that they’re rarely boring. Here, as in “Every Little Thing,” Ringo is taking a very compositional approach to his drum part, while largely ignoring the option to play a “rock” beat - the fills that he builds into his part set up the transitions really well, and also seem to get at the rhythmic core of the sections - finding a sort of “clave,” I guess - in ways that a more regular beat would never do. The time signature change at the bridge is pretty minor - from a straight 4/4 to a triplet feel, but it changes the feel enough to make the verse feel fresh again when it comes back around.

I also really like what you said about the abstraction and lack of exposition in the lyrics. I’d never really thought of it that way, but it almost gives me a fresh appreciation for the song. I think the Peter Fonda story sometimes overshadows the song itself, which is really a disservice to the song and the listener. In some respects, it might be better if they’d never told anyone where it came from.

Aaron: Ha! I think even if The Beatles had never mentioned the story, it would have got out. As much as I admire Peter Fonda, he’s never been shy about self-aggrandizement and myth building. I think he knows how annoying he was that day, but he still gets so much joy out of having inspired a Beatles’ song that he’ll never tire of talking about it to anybody who will listen.

In any case, about Paul’s bass playing – it’s hard to say what he would have done with this track. I don’t know exactly why he wasn’t around; all I can find is reference to a studio tiff and his storming out. What the tiff had to do with, I’ve no clue. However, a few things are worth keeping in mind, one of which is that by this point the band was in the midst of a period of Paul really taking over in terms a lot of creative direction decisions. Because John was in the early days of a two-year acid bender that would leave him somewhat tapped for long-term energy, it was really Paul (and George Martin) who was responsible for a lot of the overarching creative decision making from Revolver through Magical Mystery Tour. So I have a feeling that had he wanted to push for a more bouncy bass part, he would have got his way. Having said that, however, it’s also worth noting that Paul’s playing on the verses of “Ticket To Ride,” which is much more drone-y than what George brings to “She Said She Said,” is a major element in that song as a key early departure for the band. So who knows what he might have brought to “She Said . . .” had he been the one to perform on it.

When it comes to Ringo’s drumming, what more can I say (besides, nice call on the modified clave – had never thought to put it that way). The more I listen to these and other tracks for this project, the more I find it confusing – unfathomable, even – that he’s got a reputation for being a mediocre or even bad (or, worst of all, boring!) drummer. His ability to play straight 4/4 (which is almost never completely straight, the way he accents the hi-hat, or swings the beat) and then switch almost seamlessly to what you call a “more compositional approach” is not only impressive, on some tracks – including “She Said She Said” – it’s damned exhilarating! And not only is he a very good drummer, I’m not even sure if it would be a stretch to argue that Ringo’s drumming is as distinctive and vital an element to the band’s sound and development as any other single aspect apart, perhaps, from the vocals.

Lew: “Ticket to Ride” is definitely a weird one. If I didn’t know better, I would suspect that Paul didn’t play bass on it at all. It doesn’t really have any of his usual flair for bridging between chords, mirroring the vocal melody, etc. That said, I think that one of the things that allows for a “dronier” bass part in “Ticket to Ride” is that there’s only one chord happening for the almost the entire verse. “She Said She Said” doesn’t offer that same kind of space, so the drone feel is definitely more of an overall effect.

As to what degree of importance Ringo’s playing has to the sound of The Beatles, I’d agree that it’s huge and vastly understated by most people. At the risk of stating the obvious, I think it’s the case in most bands that while people tend to focus on the vocalist or guitar player, the drummer is really the engine that drives the core of the band’s sound. If that’s not the case, you probably have a bad drummer. That perspective isn’t often applied to The Beatles – I’m not sure if that has to do with Ringo’s public persona or maybe the lack of clarity to hear what he’s really doing on some of the recordings - although it’s as true for them as any other band. If you played “She Said She Said” through with a straight 4/4 beat (which you could even maintain through the 12/8 section if you wanted), the song would have a completely different sound.

Aaron: Just a little factoid before we go: not only does Paul play bass on “Ticket To Ride,” he also plays lead guitar, just as George plays both on “She Said She Said” (I think it’s one of the first songs on which Paul played lead).

With that, I think we’ll leave off and see what are readers have to say. What do you think . . . could you imagine hearing “She Said She Said” on the radio today? Where would it slot in the with the Gagas and the Kanyes and the Death Cabs and the Coldplays? And, as usual, we would love to hear any thoughts you might have on this track or any of the other topics we’ve brought up.

Coming Next: Paul gets an idea in his head on THE BEST ALBUM OF ALL TIME!!!

"Tell Me Why" A Hard Day’s Night (1964)

Welcome to Track Chatter, where we choose a different song to discuss in depth. This entry is part of an ongoing series in which we reconsider songs by The Beatles. Can anything new be said about this band or its music? Have a look below and let us know what you think.

And along comes A Hard Day’s Night, the Beatles third studio album, and the first to include only Beatles compositions. And what compositions they are! A Hard Day’s Night includes some of the band’s best-known early hits, and (arguably) some of the staples of early ‘60s pop/rock music. In addition to the title track, there’s “I Should Have Known Better,” “And I Love Her,” “Can’t Buy Me Love,” and “Any Time at All.” Regardless of whether the songs would stand up today, it would be hard to argue for any pop album released today containing an equal number of well-loved tracks.

A Hard Day’s Night was the first Beatles album to be recorded on four-track tape, which meant that stereo mixes were possible. However, while stereo releases of Beatles album would become more regular throughout the decade, the band and producer George Martin tended to concern themselves mainly with overseeing the production of the mono mixes.

Moving away from George Harrison, “Tell Me Why” is the first Lennon/McCartney track we’ll be discussing, and it features lead vocals by John Lennon. It would be hard to call it an “unknown” track, but as we move through the Beatles’ catalogue, it will become increasingly difficult to say that about any of their songs. In any case, it could be argued that it’s lesser known than many of the big hits mentioned above.



Lew chose this track, so we’ll let him open the discussion.

Lew: “Tell Me Why” is the first Lennon/McCartney track that we’re discussing, and I'm excited about it. I think it's always easier to sell George songs to people that don't like The Beatles, because they're not as well-known, and also because he's not as well-known as a personality. I suspect there's some inclination to say, “oh well - if only John and Paul had let George write more, the band would have been better” or sentiments along those lines. I completely disagree, but I'm sure that goes without saying. In any case, if (as we discussed in the introduction) we're going to try to consider The Beatles on their own merits, Lennon and McCartney are giant elephants in the room.

This track is credited to John Lennon and Paul McCartney, but I'm personally inclined to say that it's mainly a John song - it has a number of fingerprints that suggest his style of songwriting to me. However, before we get into analyzing the song itself, I want to use our discussion of “Tell Me Why” as an opportunity to make a comment about John Lennon as a vocalist, which I think may play a part in later discussions, as well: I think he was one of the first rock singers to successfully marry a rougher vocal style to lyrics that expressed vulnerability - a juxtaposition that’s been serving rock musicians quite well for some time. It's difficult to point things like that out, because I think it's part of what stands in between people and enjoying the Beatles (which I think we've covered!), but I also think it's necessary to recognize exactly what made him such a compelling figure. In any case I'll pause here, before I start trying to reconstruct rock history via The Beatles. I'd like to give Aaron a chance to give us any general thoughts that he might have on “Tell Me Why.”

Aaron: Well, my first thought was happiness at hearing that you’d chosen this as the track from A Hard Day’s Night because I thought it would give us a chance to get into talking about Motown a bit more. But that’ll have to wait because I’d like to pick up on one or two things you’ve already brought up. First, I think you’re quite right about this song having been written solely by John. According to one account I’ve read, it was actually knocked off near the end of filming of A Hard Day’s Night because another song was needed. Apparently, John never cared all that much for it.

Moving on to John’s vocals, I’m not sure I could say with certainty where he fits in the spectrum of adding “rough” vocals to vulnerable lyrics. I do know that from the onset of electronic recording in the late 1920s, the trend among white American singers had been towards crooner-style vocalization (and why not – that intimacy with the microphone was a huge advance in the recording of singers and made the careers of Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, and so many others). Popular rock music, in its earliest incarnations, seems to have followed that trend. If we think of singers like Elvis, Buddy Holly, or Bill Haley, it’s pretty clear that, while they may have been experimenting with phrasing and other elements of delivery, they generally maintained the “smooth” vocals trend of earlier recorded pop.

However, as the roots of rock are notoriously hazy, I’d be loath to claim “first” for almost anything. It’s pretty easy to point to rough vocalizations in rock, blues, and even jazz and pop pre-Beatles. But rough vocals with vulnerable lyrics? It’s hard to say. I certainly can’t think of a ton of examples (any thoughts from readers?).

All those caveats aside, Lennon certainly was a master of this approach. As you well know, A Hard Day’s Night includes quite a few examples of this type of singing on his part (and some from Paul, too, which should be no surprise considering how much time they’d spent together at this point). But let’s get back to the song. What do you think John’s singing brings to “Tell Me Why”? Would the song have worked with a more traditional crooner approach, or does it need to be a little rough around the edges?

Lew: I'm interested in the Motown angle you mentioned - let's not lose that.

I should definitely qualify my remarks about John's vocal performance a bit - looking back, I think they could be taken the wrong way. For one thing, let me say that I completely agree that there were "rough" singers out there well before the Beatles. I guess when I made that remark about rough singing that conveys a sense of vulnerability, I was thinking of the way that rock has become a very cathartic mode of expression - both for the performer and the audience. I think it's fair to say that (this is shooting from the hip a little), prior to the second half of the 20th century, vocal music was most often not written by the singer. To go back to the example of the crooners and jazz singers that you mentioned, very few wrote their own material - they weren't expected to write. So, while the singer might do a masterful interpretation of a song and create a moment of catharsis for the audience, there wasn't the sense of complete disclosure that came along later with rock singers who were visibly trying to work something from their own lives out, and using those experiences to provide the basis for their songwriting. I think that Lennon is an early example of someone who saw the possibility of blending personal experience with entertainment in a way that few other people were seeing it at the time (although “Don't Bother Me” has that kind of honesty as well).

To get specific about the song, and actually answer the question that you asked, I do think that John's slightly rough vocal works better than a smoother approach would have done. He's obviously not screaming - there's a lot of restraint in the way he sounds a little ragged without ever really pushing it - but that raggedness adds an exhausted quality to the question that frames the song. He's desperate to figure out what's going on. Of course, when I phrase it like that, it almost sounds like we're discussing a dirge, which isn't the case. “Tell Me Why” is musically very upbeat.

Aaron: I like what you’ve picked up on here – the mixture of Lennon’s confessional style of writing with his somewhat ragged delivery – for a couple of reasons. First, the typical rendering of the Beatles’ story usually has them being not much more than a bubblegum boy band before they encountered Dylan (in more ways than one) and became convinced that they needed to write lyrics of greater depth. I wouldn’t deny that there’s some truth to that. From 1965 onward they definitely seem to have wanted to broaden their sound and . . . I don’t know . . . go for something more mature, both lyrically and compositionally. However, even in the early days, they were already writing about their own life experiences, even if they continued to place the lyrics within bubblegum-like structures. McCartney has definitely described Lennon’s early writing as being based on his own life and such things as the struggles in his first marriage to Cynthia (even though, apparently, the rest of the band was not always aware of this). So in that sense, you’re right on the money when you describe Lennon as “blending personal experience with entertainment in a way that few people were seeing it at the time,” and I don’t think the band gets enough credit for that.

Also, back to his singing style, another great thing about early Lennon and McCartney vocals (less so, I think, with Harrison) was their ability to blend rough and smooth, and to rely on both the single voice and various approaches to melody, within the same song. We’ve talked in previous posts about how early Lennon/McCartney songwriting efforts were often based in pre-existing pop and RnB forms, but one of the things that made their approach fresh was how well they were able to integrate various stylistic elements from different forms into new takes on the pop song. “Tell Me Why” starts out like a lot of typical Motown numbers, with that great rolling intro, and the chorus and parts of the verses use the kind of melodic vocal arrangements you would expect from such a song. But then, when Lennon is singing on his own, that’s when the rougher approach comes out, which is much more based in the early rock n roll stuff he loved like Chuck Berry (and we can’t forget that almost bizarre falsetto harmony bit during the bridge!). And yet, in this song it sounds like a natural match. Again, it’s unlikely that Lennon was the first to sing like this, but that he and the band did it so well – I guess that’s part of what made that combination of confession with raggedness within a pop structure so appealing to so many singers who came later.

Lew: I agree that you can see a shift toward bringing more honesty to the lyrics that really started after this album. I think Beatles For Sale generally gets the nod as the first instance of that change, but I'd say that you don't really see it take full effect until Help!, which despite the silliness of the movie, has some fairly intense songs on it. I'd probably make the suggestion that Lennon had always leaned toward that style of writing, and never needed more than a small push to embrace that approach, but that's not a supportable opinion. Having said that, I still think "Tell Me Why" is trying to express something closer to personal experience, and I think that other Lennon songs in the early Beatles' catalogue ("This Boy," for example) seem to have a more sincere quality than some of the straighter pop tracks that they wrote around the same time.

I think it's interesting that the intro for "Tell Me Why" feels like a Motown song to you, although obviously Lennon's statement that it was like a "New York girl group song" tends to reinforce that idea. I have to admit that I think of power chords when I hear the intro - probably because I'm so much more immersed in music that sounds like that. It makes me think of any number of hard rock songs that start off with loud guitars hitting the riff before the vocals start. Again, I think your analysis is probably more correct, but I think it's interesting that we're hearing it in such different ways. It makes me think that "Tell Me Why" is bridging some kind of gap between the styles that we're hearing in it. That's hypothesis at best, I suppose, but I like looking for those kinds of connections, even when they seem a little tenuous.

Aaron: Wow, I guess because I generally don’t think of songs in terms of power chords (or, really, any chords), I never would have picked up on that. To me, the intro is reminiscent of something like “Heatwave” or even, somewhat sped up, “The Way You Do the Things You Do.” Do you have any examples in mind of hard rock songs that “Tell Me Why” recalls for you? I’d be really interested to get a better handle on how you’re hearing it. It is pretty interesting that we’re both coming at the song from such different places.

As to Lennon’s lyrics, you know, I always just sort of accepted the whole Dylan-influence story. I think part of the “problem” of listening to the Beatles is that, with their hits catalogue, I’ve heard the songs so many times that I don’t often stop to think about what the lyrics are saying. And because so many of the early songs are close to pure pop, I often lazily just thought all those songs were “I want to hold your hand.” But listening to John sing something like “Did you have to treat me oh so bad / All I do is hang my head and moan,” it’s pretty clear that it’s not an “I want to hold your hand” moment. That he got better at writing such sentiments could have had as much to do with age and experience as with strictly being advised by Dylan to drop the bubble-gum act (I don’t mean to discount Dylan’s influence; it just seems fruitful to try to look past the obvious anecdotes). You brought up Help!, and it contains an instructive example. As much of a downer as the lyric I just quoted is, it’s not all that “good” in terms of the writing. But when we get to “Hide Your Love Away” and he sings, “Here I stand, head in hand / turn my face to the wall,” he’s essentially saying the same thing as he does in “Tell Me Why”, content-wise. But the effect is so much greater because of the economy of the writing, the imagery, the odd use of the singular for “hand.” I guess it’s to be expected, though, that their songwriting chops would improve over time, regardless of particular influences.

Lew: There are a lot of songs that I thought of while trying to answer your question about what the intro to “Tell Me Why” reminds me of. I'll talk about them in a minute, but I'll preface that by saying that a big part of why this intro reminds me of certain things is that I guess I just connect The Beatles much more to the rock music that came after them than to Motown tracks that were coming around the same time that they were releasing their early albums. So, in that respect, this intro makes me think of “All Day and All of the Night” or “I Can't Explain” more than it does "Heatwave." To take it a little further and talk about what I actually thought of first when I tried to answer this question, I'd have to say “Anarchy in the UK” or “Master of Puppets.” Those songs are coming from a much different place, musically and lyrically, but I think that their intros serve a similar function of turning around into the body the song.

Also, I thought I'd mention, since I referenced the term “turnaround” above that the beginning of “Tell Me Why” is what's called a ii-V progression (E minor to A major or dominant 7), which is, in most respects, the primary building block of jazz harmony (at least up to the late 50's or so). As we discussed in our entry on “Don't Bother Me,” the V chord leads the ear back to the tonic chord (D major here), and is often called a “turnaround,” although “cadence” is probably the more theoretically recognized term. Regardless, it's a move that you see happening a lot in standards like "Autumn Leaves,” or at a more complex level “All the Things You Are.” I found that interesting because Lennon's the Beatle that I think of least likely to randomly grab a jazz progression, but at the beginning of this song, there's a little textbook jazz thing happening, which flips over into introducing the chorus. It's neat.

Aaron: It is neat. I guess, going back to our question of relevance, one of the things about the Beatles that makes them not only a great band, but also a fascinating case study into the ongoing development of pop music, is the way in which they simultaneously hearken back to earlier forms, reflect contemporary trends, and prefigure future developments. “Tell Me Why” is a great example. How many songs are there about which one can say it recalls earlier jazz, mirrors contemporary Motown, and looks forward to the development of punk? (By the way, I’d love to see an interviewer present the idea to John Lydon that “Anarchy in the UK” has its roots in The Beatles!) In that sense, the tune is incredibly relevant in that it speaks to the way that pop bands today are more willing and happy to call on a variety of references than perhaps they have been in the recent past (or so it seems to me, anyway).

Lew: Yes, I think this discussion makes a great case for The Beatles’ continued relevance, and I think it’s a strong place to wrap up our discussion of “Tell Me Why.” My sense is that we're going to be discussing that quality of incorporating tradition, capturing the “now,” and prefiguring later developments that you mention with increasing frequency as we move into a new phase of songwriting for The Beatles. And, we'll be doing it with the knowledge that John Lydon owes The Beatles a debt which can never be repaid! Coming up next, we'll be looking at a track from Beatles For Sale.

"Don't Bother Me" With the Beatles (1963)

Welcome to Track Chatter, where we choose a different song to discuss in depth. This entry is part of an ongoing series in which we reconsider songs by The Beatles. Can anything new be said about this band or its music? Have a look below and let us know what you think.

Our second entry comes from the With the Beatles. As was common during the early days of rock, this album was released in the same year as its predecessor. And like Please Please Me, it included six cover songs amongst its fourteen tracks. Most of these tracks would be released in the US two months later (Jan ’64) on Meet the Beatles. Both albums feature Robert Freeman’s distinctive photograph of the lads’ four faces cast in shadow, although the design of the covers is somewhat different and Meet the Beatles includes a slight blue tint on the photograph.

In addition to “Don’t Bother Me,” With the Beatles includes such well-known tracks as “It Won’t Be Long,” “All My Loving,” “I Wanna Be Your Man,” and the sublime cover of “Please Mister Postman.”

Like our previous entry, “Chains,” “Don’t Bother Me” features a vocal performance by George Harrison, the difference being that in this case, the song was also written by George. In fact, “Don’t Bother Me” is the first Harrison-penned song to appear on a Beatles album.



Aaron chose this track, so we’ll turn it over to him now.

Aaron: I’ll just start by saying that this was the song that first gave us the idea for the project that would become Track Chatter. I was out at a pub and having one of those ever-so-enlightening conversations about the Beatles that proceeds along familiar lines: they were all that vs. they weren’t at all / or X band (Stones, Who, Kinks) were much better or more influential. Nobody ever wins these conversations, and I guess the fun is really in using the structure of the conversation to reminisce about what was a very exciting moment in pop music history, regardless of how one feels about any particular band or song. Anyway, during that particular conversation, one of my friends (yes, we’re still friends!) was explaining in intricate detail how badly the Beatles suck and how much better the Kinks were. As happens, the conversation passed on to other topics. Later that same week, I got a copy of With the Beatles, one of last year’s new mono releases. What struck me first was how few of the songs I knew really well. And I couldn’t stop listening to “Don’t Bother Me.” I found myself thinking, this really sounds like a Kinks song (the first Kinks’ recordings were released in 1964). I brought it up with Lew and during a protracted e-mail conversation and much New Years' carousing last year, the idea of Track Chatter was born. So, Lew, I’d just like to throw that out there. Is there anything about “Don’t Bother Me” that marks it as atypical of early Beatles?


Lew: I do think that “Don't Bother Me” is somewhat atypical of the early Beatles. Most obviously, it seems to have a good deal darker emotional content than many of the other songs that Lennon and McCartney were writing around this time, especially compared to the other songs on With the Beatles. Considering that they were still covering Chuck Berry songs, and 50's doo-wop tunes around this time, "Don't Bother Me" seems like a fairly substantial forecast of where they'd be headed later on. I don't think it would sound especially out of place on Rubber Soul. But, I'd also say that it has much more in common with the British Invasion songs that would be getting popular during the next couple of years than any of the Lennon/McCartney songs on the album, which is something that I think you pointed out to me during the aforementioned New Years' carousing. Do you still feel that way about it?

Aaron: I do. I wonder if, not being part of the “team,” George felt freer to explore different songwriting directions. I recently saw an old Dick Cavett interview with John Lennon from about 1972. Cavett asks Lennon how his songwriting has changed over the years. As part of his answer, Lennon makes a comment about how in the early days of the Beatles he and McCartney were under so much pressure to churn out hits that they would often take an already existing form and do their own version – a rock ‘n’ roll song, a Motown number, a soul track, and so on. Under no such pressure, George here seems to be onto something slightly more original, even if it’s a bit rougher than some of his later songwriting. I don’t think the lyric is quite as clever as early Lennon/McCartney stuff, and it doesn’t have those huge harmonies. But you’re certainly correct about its darkness being very different from what the other lads were offering. In fact, I’d wager that it’s a darker song than you’re likely to find amongst any of the pop music coming out in 1963. Certainly blues and country had long been showcasing songs that deal with that solitary and angry loneliness that comes after a breakup. Dylan’s “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right,” also from ’63, might be along the same lines. But even that one is fairly even tempered, whereas the singer of “Don’t Bother Me” is simply demanding complete solitude. He hasn’t yet moved on to a place where he can be so ironic and coy as to say “you just kind of wasted my precious time,” but it’s no big deal. He’s still pissed. And he doesn’t care what anybody thinks about that. I love the way George delivers the line, “I’ve got no time for you right now” at the beginning of the second chorus. In fact, much like with “Chains,” I think it’s George’s attitude as much as anything that really sells the song. I also really dig the way the verses seem to contain most of the song’s urgency, and then when the choruses come, they seem more relaxed and resigned. It sounds a bit like in the verses he’s trying to explain the situation, but when it’s time to really push his point at the chorus, he just loses steam, says forget it, and generally can’t be bothered. That’s another way it seems different from Lennon/McCarthy, who loved those huge choruses, like on “All My Loving” or “It Won’t Be Long” from this same album. Does that make sense?

Lew: I think what you say makes a lot of sense, especially when you talk about songwriting forms. The point about Lennon and McCartney using established styles to make their own songs is a great one, and it's hard to ignore. Dipping into traditionalism in the way they do - that is to say, by appropriating existing forms for your own purposes - cuts both ways, to my mind. On one hand, it does exactly what the term traditionalism implies; it makes you part of a narrative. When a form or style endures successive trends, it's easy to note all manner of innovations in terms of composition and performance. I think most people would agree that that is the reason for jazz musicians to learn standards; it provides a yardstick to measure yourself against your progenitors, or determine that you can't relate to them, if that's the case. On the other hand, tradition should be useful, rather than constricting. The ability to access an established form can be liberating, or it might stifle creativity at some level, because it requires everyone to observe a particular structure. In that context, I wouldn't say that "Don't Bother Me" is clearly participating in a set tradition. It's more of an amalgam of various traditions, and in that respect, I'd say that it more successfully forecasts the advent of rock music that was deliberately opposed to existing forms. I could go on, but I'll pause here for a second to see what you think about that.

Aaron: Well, just a couple thoughts, really, before I toss it back to you. I like the way you describe the tension between tradition as liberating or constricting. It’s a tension that pretty much permeates rock music history and has led to some of its greatest achievements and most spectacular failures. I’ll be interested in taking the question up more as we make our way to some Lennon/McCartney numbers, which might better lend themselves to such a discussion. Also, while I’m sure this is probably clear to anybody reading this, I’d just like to point out that by describing “Don’t Bother Me” as adventurous or predictive of rock that opposed existing forms, we’re certainly aware that it’s not a radical departure – along the lines of say Zappa or Captain Beefheart or even the way, by 1963, Dylan was deconstructing tradition popular song forms. Having said that, however, I’d love to hear more from you on just how “Don’t Bother Me” is predictive in that way. And when you call it an “amalgam” of various traditions, have you got anything specific in mind?

Lew: You're definitely right to add the disclaimer about “Don't Bother Me” as being less radical than any number of more deconstructive approaches to rock or pop songwriting. When I say it's predictive of later rock music, I don't necessarily mean to say that it's blazing a trail that would be followed by others (although it probably did that to a greater or lesser degree), or that it presents the listener with a dramatic upheaval of opposition to traditional songwriting forms. I think more of what I'm trying to get at is that, in contrast to Lennon and McCartney's very obvious use of traditional styles as jumping-off points for their own songs, George seems to be making use of traditions in a more organic way. In terms of what he's actually synthesizing in “Don't Bother Me,” I'd say that there's a more traditional English vibe to the melody than in a lot of the other songs The Beatles were making around that time, but again, I don't want to say that he's wearing that on his sleeve in the same way John was overtly channeling Little Richard for “Dizzy Miss Lizzy,” for example. Whatever influences helped him write that song seem pretty well subsumed by the song itself. I also want to say that if it sounds like I'm being negative about the songs Lennon & McCartney were writing, I don't meant to be. I'm trying to differentiate, not make a qualitative comparison. Does that makes sense?

Aaron: Yeah, it makes sense. I like the way you describe its use of tradition as more organic but also as being “subsumed by the song itself.” I think one of the (pretty well established) important aspects of early Lennon/McCartney songs was the way they reinvigorated pop music in the early 1960s, on both sides of the pond. For them, I assume, it made sense to turn to the Little Richards and Chuck Berrys of America because they were the only ones really making “rock n roll” at that time as opposed to bubblegum (I know this is somewhat of a simplification, but it’s close enough to true for the purposes of this discussion). So what Lennon/McCartney did seems to have been very deliberate (even calculated), but they did it so damned well that it worked. And it probably freed up other British acts to incorporate a bit more of that “organic traditionalism” that you mention. The Stones, of course, would also look to American music in their early years, but other British Invasion bands like the Kinks, the Who, the Animals, and others, while grounded in various strains of American RnB, perhaps didn’t feel so beholden to it. If bands back then were anything like bands today, I’m sure there were a lot of guys trying not to sound like the Beatles while still picking up on their energy, enthusiasm, and rhythmic dynamism. In that sense, their songs, too, would contain “subsumed” traditionalism, if that makes sense. In any case, I wouldn’t ever think you were slagging off Paul and John – they would have plenty of “originality” to contribute to the pop landscape, and soon enough (in fact, just as we discussed with “Chains," I’d say that even their take on traditional American forms was fairly original from a contemporaneous point of view). But this brings me back to what I said earlier about “Don’t Bother Me” sounding like a Kinks song. In that sense, I think you’re on the money when you talk about the song as being “predictive,” and why I think that’s such a good word for it – it may not be that “Don’t Bother Me” was highly influential on bands like the Kinks or the Animals, but it certainly pointed in the direction that British Invasion bands were heading as the whole era got up and running over the next two years or so.

Any thoughts on that, or any final thoughts you might want to add?

Lew: The only other thing that I thought might be worth mentioning is the way that “Don't Bother Me” differs from the Lennon/McCartney songs that we'll be talking about with regard to sheer musical structure. I had a feeling about this so I took a minute and learned the chords to “Don't Bother Me.” At the risk of going too far into theoretical terminology, I think it's important to say that “Don't Bother Me” is coming from completely different place in terms of chordal relationships than a number of Lennon/McCartney songs (as we'll see when we talk about “Tell Me Why” next). I have been thinking that “Don't Bother Me” is kind of a Modal tune - not in the sense of the word implied by post-bop jazz, but more in the sense of Renaissance music or Gregorian chant (I realize that this may be a bit of a stretch, aesthetically speaking). The term “modal” is a fairly hotly debated one, so I'm not really ready to claim that “Don’t Bother Me” is definitively modal, but I will say that the song suggests some aspects of modal music over tonal music. The chords in the song imply a key center (E minor, in this case), but the chord E minor itself isn't necessarily treated as a tonic, in the sense that one uses that word in the context of tonal music - that is, where the Dominant-Tonic relationship resolves musical phrases and cadences (in this case, the chords B Dominant 7 to E Minor). “Don't Bother Me” does use a B7, but not in the way that you'd expect. B7 contains the notes B, D#, F#, and A. Emin contains E, G, and B. Generally, one would move from B7 to Emin, and the resolution from the D# in the B7 to the E (a half-step) would create what's called “voice-leading.” By contrast, “Don't Bother Me” moves from Emin to B7, to A7, to Gmaj, and then back to Emin. There's no cut and dried resolution, beyond the fact that Gmaj is from the same chord family as Emin. Essentially, the chords of the song deviate from formal compositional tradition, and suggest a more unstudied approach - again, probably based in English folk music (which, unlike most American popular music, derives strongly from medieval music). Lennon and McCartney, by accident or design, were very proficient at using compositional devices that were much more in keeping with the tradition established by Baroque classical music. I realize that we haven't talked about the music of The Beatles in these terms previously, but I think it's going to be important to consider these musical aspects in greater depth as we go along - first, to illustrate the different musical perspectives that informed the early days of The Beatles, and also to show the ways in which John and Paul eventually turned away from the more traditional approaches that they had been taking to songwriting. I don't think I have a lot more to say about this track at the moment, but I'd love to know if I've been able to use musical terminology in a way that clarifies something about the song, rather than making it more confusing.

Aaron: No, that’s not confusing at all – I only wish you were here with a guitar to demonstrate more clearly what you mean in your discussion of the chord relationships. But I’m pretty sure I get it, and I think the potentially modal nature of the song you point out probably has a lot to do with what drew me to it in the first place. Of course, I would have had no idea about that and would not have been able to articulate it. But I think it does have something to do with the tension between the verses and the choruses that I was talking about earlier. It’s the lack of resolution you describe that gives the song – at least in part – such urgency. What’s really cool – and who knows if this was intentional on George’s part or not – is the way that the chord structure that you describe actually contributes to and works in tangent with the song’s lyrical structure. That’s a relationship that The Beatles would go on to explore more deeply later in the decade, so I agree with you completely that it’s an aspect of their music that we will have to continue to keep in mind and discuss as this conversation continues.


Coming next: "Tell Me Why" from A Hard Day's Night, the band's first album of all original tracks.