“Yesterday” Help! (1965)

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: Recently in the comments, we touched a bit on the different release history of The Beatles albums vis a vis the UK and the US. Many of us who grew up in the US – pre-compact disc, anyway – were used to a set of albums that were different from their UK counterparts – similar, but something like phantom copies in the way they replicated the UK releases, but modified them. Sometimes this resulted in albums with completely different titles – of the first four albums we’ve discussed here at Track Chatter, only the US A Hard Day’s Night shares a title with its UK counterpart, although the two albums share only seven tracks. Capitol would continue to release different versions in North America up through and including 1966’s Revolver and in that year would release one more, US-only album, Yesterday and Today, which included tracks from the UK (but not US) versions of Help!, Rubber Soul, and the aforementioned Revolver.

Perhaps the biggest discrepancy comes on the album up for discussion this week, Help!. The UK version included twelve original Beatles songs (including two George Harrison numbers), and two covers – “Act Naturally” and “Dizzy Miss Lizzy.” The Capitol release included only seven of those tracks, plus five instrumentals from the soundtrack to the film (which always made the album seem a bit boring to me as a kid). So for some readers, this entry’s track discussion might seem startling at first, as we’ll be talking about “Yesterday,” originally released in August 1965 as the penultimate track on side two of the UK version of Help!.

Can anything be said about “Yesterday” that hasn’t already been said – by fans, critics, or the many many artists who’ve interpreted it via cover version (over 1,600)? In some ways, “Yesterday” is an example both of what makes The Beatles such an interesting band as well as what so many of the band’s detractors hate about them. Perhaps we can shed some light on why that might be.

And while “Yesterday” might seem at first to be outside the purview of this project – it can hardly be described as a “lesser-known” track – its near ubiquity in a way makes it ripe for discussion: it’s a song that everybody knows, so few people rarely listen to. Or maybe not.



What do you think, Lew: is “Yesterday” even worth talking about?

Lew: It is worth talking about, for sure. It's a song that can be looked at in several ways, I think. To start, I completely agree with your statement that its ubiquity locates it in sort of a blind spot. It's one of those cultural icons that's simply accepted as being present, and consequently, rarely considered in and of itself. In a lot of respects, you could probably call it a “traditional” at this point. It's a more extreme example, but one rarely hears anyone talking about "Amazing Grace" as a song with strengths or weaknesses (although I think it's pretty cool) - it serves a certain cultural function, and that role supersedes any question about its quality. I also think that the phrase “familiarity breeds contempt” is pretty appropriate here. One can only hear so many lounge versions of a song without starting to judge it on its use in that context. There's a lot more to say, but why don't you weigh in for a second? Do you think “Yesterday” is worth discussing?

Aaron: In a lot of ways, yes. I think it’s one of those songs that Beatles detractors point to as an example of the schmaltzy side of the band (even if less so than some later Paul compositions). Hand-in-hand with John’s “druggy” songs and the factors relating to overexposure that we’ve already touched on somewhat, this schmaltziness seems to be “proof” to some that the Beatles are overrated or coasting on reputation. But the more I listen to the song, the more I realize that couldn’t be further from the truth.

But before I get to breaking the track itself down, there are a few things worth mentioning. First, I’ve never really noticed this before, but do you think it might be fair to say that Help! is where we really begin to see the emergence of “John” songs and “Paul” songs? We’ve discussed briefly the end of their “head-to-head” writing sessions. I realize that, with a few exceptions, they would continue to contribute to each other’s songs throughout the life of the band, but do we see on Help! the beginning of more individually voiced songs? For instance, last entry we talked about how “Every Little Thing” sounds like a Lennon song (in part because of his role singing it) even though it was written mainly by McCartney. Could we imagine Lennon singing “Yesterday”? Or McCartney singing “Hide Your Love Away”? I know that the band didn’t think so. Apparently, they considered “Yesterday” to be almost a McCartney solo song, so much so that they vetoed its release as a single in the UK (it was released as a single in the US, where it went to number one; it was released as a UK single in 1976, making it to number eight). They seemed to think “Yesterday” didn’t have the Beatles “sound.”

What’s interesting to me now, however, is that “Yesterday” comes from the same album as “Hide Your Love Away” and the many similarities between the two. Both songs are showcases for their individual writer – although on “Yesterday” Paul is the only Beatle to perform, whereas on “Hide Your Love Away,” the entire band appears. Both songs feature outside instrumentation (the orchestra of “Yesterday,” the flute of “Hide Your Love Away”). Both songs feature very pure distillations of that combination of simple and raw songwriting that we’ve discussed, with nearly unadorned or distracting musical arrangements. And both songs are about the singer dealing with the aftermath of a painful breakup. In fact, “Yesterday” even features the line “now I need a place to hide away.”

Now, I love “Hide Your Love Away.” It’s been one of my favorite songs of all time – Beatles or no – since I can remember. But I wonder if it doesn’t get props for being a better song because it’s a Lennon track, or perhaps because “Yesterday” is, as we’ve said, “overdone.” So I’d like to get into talking about the lyrics and music of “Yesterday,” to see if it does stand up, if it is a good song. So, take it away in one of those directions, Lew, unless you’d also like to add some “meta” to the conversation before we get down to the nitty gritty.

Lew: Well, you've definitely presented some food for thought here. I was initially a little wary about drawing comparisons between “Hide Your Love Away” and “Yesterday.” That's probably more about me than anything else - I generally avoid that kind of comparison because it seems kind of “reductive” (for lack of a better word). But, having thought it through, I agree that you're on the money when you identify them as sharing a lot of common ground, lyrically. Both songs are written from the perspective of someone who's in the aftermath of a romantic tragedy, and they're both great at describing that experience for different reasons.

In “Yesterday,” the lyric places the event chronologically (today), and refers to an earlier, more carefree time (yesterday). That may seem fairly self-evident, but I think that it's important to point out, because I have the feeling that it's a common experience when you're experiencing a crisis. Speaking for myself, I know that there's always a tendency for me to delineate between the now (in which a terrible event is happening), and before (when things were good, and I didn't know/appreciate it). The narrator of “Yesterday” captures this experience pretty clearly, and it may be (although this is pure hypothesis) that commonality that has made the song so popular. Of course, it's a catchy tune, as well.

To extend the comparison to “Hide Your Love Away” a bit, I think it's important to note some differences, in addition to the similarities. "Yesterday" seems to be written from a perspective of isolation, while “Hide Your Love Away” is very clearly placed in a social perspective; from the title, to the constant references to people that are looking at the narrator. It has aspects of paranoia, in addition to the obvious resignation and heartbreak. “Yesterday” doesn't seem to have any kind of self-awareness - it's only expressing the heartbreak.

I completely agree that with Help!, we're starting to songs that can be much more clearly defined as “John” and “Paul” songs. I wonder if you could say that, once they stopped writing the more overt pop songs, they started moving away from each other. It seems like they were able to write together very seamlessly while they were borrowing cliches, but that maybe once they started trying to raise the quality of their creative output, their respective identities became too pronounced to maintain the same kind of partnership.

Aaron: Yeah, “reductive” probably is the right word. And the two songs certainly have as many differences as they have commonalities. It’s the difference in their reception I find so odd, when there are so many clear similarities. Maybe it’s also a case of “Yesterday” just being too popular, which tends to make things unlikeable for a certain segment of fandom (myself, on occasion, included).

So what about “Yesterday” on its own? I agree with you that it captures an experience very clearly. The more I listen to it, the more I think it’s pretty much crystal clear. Paul is getting very economical at this point – an aspect of his songwriting that gets overlooked sometimes (perhaps because he’s so un-economical at times). I don’t want to misuse musical terms, so please correct me, but is it right to say the song doesn’t really have a chorus. Something more like a verse and a bridge (how would you characterize the “why she had to go” part?). In any case, there are very few actual lyrics in the song, and there’s a fair amount of repetition. I generally despise the use of “poetic” to describe pop music, but there’s an element of truth in using that description for this song. Not in any flowery or overtly metaphorical sense, but in the way the lyrics – simple as they are – have multiple meanings that can lead thoughts in different directions at the same time. Just one example might be, “I’m not half the man I used to be.” I don’t really know exactly what he means by that. Is it a very literal “my other half (i.e. my partner) is now gone”? Is it something more metaphorical, as in half of some essence of whatever it was that made him a man is gone. Is it about his missing confidence, self-possession, etc? Or is it the simple lover’s lament that life really sucks without her? It’s somehow a combination of those sentiments (and more, probably), and I could see how it might come across as overtly weepy to some listeners. But even more interesting to me is how it comes after the dramatic, “Suddenly” – that’s where the clarity of it comes in for me. The whole song is really about that “suddenly” moment – the difference between yesterday and today is only a few hours, after all. And it’s not only “suddenly she’s gone” (it’s partly that), or “suddenly I’m sad and confused” (partly that, too), but “suddenly, I’m not half the man I used to be.” In some ways it’s not nearly as clever as “here I stand, head in hand, turn my face to the wall” (which makes visual much the same feeling, I guess, so gets props for the whole “show don’t tell” thing); but while not being as clever, it’s much more confessional and raw. I don’t mean to get back to the reductive comparison, because both lines are effective for me. But I can definitely see why those lines (and the songs) would appeal differently to different listeners.

I could go on about how the lyrics to “Yesterday” work for me, but I’m curious to hear your take on them (before, I hope, we get to some talk about the music).

Lew: Well, I'd agree that the lyrics are economical, and probably brilliant in their economy. The way the verses are structured so that the first word of the verse also concludes the verse is a smart bit of writing. I'd agree that the verse that begins with the word “suddenly” is probably the most clarifying moment in the song, and the best writing. I think the line "yesterday came suddenly" is a truly inspired moment. This verse is really pivotal to the song, both musically and lyrically. Lyrically, it leads to the “I'm not half the man I used to be,” which, as you pointed out, is a line that carries more than one interpretation and probably conveys the most essential statement of the narrator's condition in the song. Musically, Paul singing the word "suddenly" arrives at the same time as the string section, which I think lends weight to the vocal part. It's a very well-conceived arrangement, in the way that the abrupt arrival of strings mirrors the word being sung by the vocalist.

I think the perception that the song is overly sentimental, or “weepy” as you say, is misplaced. I'll grant that it's morose, but I think the music manages to avoid a lot of the potential pitfalls that go with this type of song. For one thing, as recorded here, it's only slightly over two minutes long. I'm inclined to call that understated, since he really could have expanded certain things, or even repeated sections to make it longer. Secondly, as a corollary to the song's length, I can't help noticing that the tempo isn't as slow as I want to think it is. If you listen to the way he articulates the guitar part, it's anything but dirge-like. Finally, I wanted to mention Paul's vocal, which I also find to be quite understated. In my mind, I tend to hear the song as very slow, and with a slightly overdone vocal take, but the truth is, he doesn't use vibrato once in the entire vocal! Even the held notes are sustained plainly, and I think it's that lack of affectation (mirroring the lyric) that really saves the song for me.

I guess I've jumped straight from the lyrics to talking about the music with no warning. I'm sure you have some things to say about that, as well, so let's get into it.

Aaron: Hey, I really like that observation about how the first utterance of “suddenly” comes just as the strings kick in. It’s one of those glaringly obvious aspects of the song that I’ve just never really paid attention to – again, probably a byproduct of too many listens. Also agree that “yesterday came suddenly” is an inspired line.

As a brief sidetrack before taking up the music, I’d just like to land again on the subject of the band’s approach to recording because I think it relates to what you wrote about Paul’s approach to singing the song. Their later experiments with recording are well known (and seemingly equally well loved/hated), but, as we’ve already touched on somewhat in this series, they were taking novel approaches to studio work from the very beginning. We’ve talked about double-tracked vocals, playing with volume levels, “supporting the song,” and I think a lot of that comes into play with “Yesterday,” and demonstrates the technical mastery they had developed by this point in their career as a band. The decision alone not to have any of the other band members play on the track (which seems to have many origin stories) is one notable moment. But there’s an approach to the singing that I want to check with you because I don’t know if it’s just the version I have, or listening to it on my MacBook, or the actual recording. In the first bridge, are the vocals double-tracked only on the lines “I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday?” I think so. But on the second bridge, those lines are not double-tracked. However, on the first, double-tracked bridge, Paul sings the concluding syllable, “-day,” as one sustained note while the violins descend four steps; whereas on the final utterance (the single-tracked), his voice descends through the four steps while the violins hold the first note. Sorry if my musical terminology is not up to scratch, but is that about how you’d describe it? It’s such a simple decision – combining the band’s knowledge of recording and music (and probably with a heavy dollop of a George Martin contribution) – but it provides such texture to the song. I think everybody probably thinks that Paul goes down those four steps on both passes, but the difference, though subtle, I think adds to the emotional richness of the song’s texture.

I’d love to hear more about the music; any other thoughts on the relationship between the three parts: vocals, guitar, string quartet?

Lew: You’re absolutely correct about the way the vocals are double-tracked. Again, it’s something that I had never really paid much attention to until we started talking about the song recently. I actually think it’s quite interesting that the vocals are double-tracked the first time through the bridge, and not the second. This is definitely one of those instances where it’s hard to know how much analysis is appropriate, because it’s either a very deliberate decision, and in that case an odd one, or something completely arbitrary that only took place because they ran out of time in the studio, or something like that. Personally, I would have double-tracked it both times. Leaving that aside, I love the way he sustains the one note at the end of the first bridge. I think that the sound of him holding that one note against the descending figure that the strings are playing adds a cool polyphonic dimension to the way that statement is concluded. I know I mentioned this already, but I’m still amazed that there isn't even a trace of vibrato on that note. It’s definitely unusual - some people might even say it makes his vocal technique sound unstudied - but as I said before, I really think it enhances the song because there’s so little artifice about it.

About the relationship between voice, guitar and string; it’s a really interesting arrangement for me. Paul’s voice is the focal point, but the guitar part really provides the rhythmic foundation for the song. It’s an odd part in some respects - I like the way he voices the chords, but the rhythmic figure is pretty stiff. That’s not a knock on Paul’s guitar playing; I'm sure he could have played something more syncopated, so the rigidity is obviously deliberate. Maybe he played it that way at George Martin’s suggestion? I'm not sure, but I can't help wondering what it would have sounded like if one of the guitar players in the band had played the part. Or, it might just be me. Did you notice the stiffness that I'm referencing here?

Aaron: I wonder if there’s a difference between “stiff” and “rigid.” I definitely know what you mean, though. It sounds almost metronomic in its steadiness. And yet, like you said, it seems deliberate as well, which I think is likely because it provides a steadiness to the song that the vocals and quartet can then play off. I know that Paul could be something of a melodic bass player, but he was a bass player nevertheless. I wonder how much that figured into his guitar playing here. On the other hand, I think it’s pretty well documented that “Yesterday” was written on piano. Do you know if there are any existing versions out there of Paul playing it on piano? It would be interesting to hear if that changed his rhythmic approach to the song.

In any case, one thing that this write-up has really shed a light on for me is how unadorned this song actually is. Yes, the quartet gives it a polished, “serious” sheen that makes it seem very “pretty.” However, I wonder how much our contemporary take on the quarter has been affected by the forty odd years of rock bands trying to go “serious” by adding strings. Whereas with “Yesterday” it might have been more a question of texture (as you mention) than one of “polish” or adornment. Just a hunch, and I’m sure somebody out there might have a more definitive take on it than I can give here (I swear I’m going to get the Ian MacDonald book soon!). But the point is, with his singing style (as you so well describe) and the simple guitar and the relatively low-key string accompaniment, the song is much more an exercise in restraint than it’s always seemed to be in my mind. Listening to it again for this project has made that so clear.

Lew: That's a good point about the piano. Actually, now that you’ve said that, I’m hearing the guitar part a little differently. Before, I was hearing it as a very stiff strumming pattern, but in the context that you’ve presented, I have the idea that his intention was to adapt the left/right hand relationship from his original piano part to the guitar. That makes more sense to me.

Following the minor revelation above, I was thinking, “why didn't he just play piano on it, in that case?” But, I think that gets to what you were saying about the unadorned quality of “Yesterday's” arrangement and production. A piano would have sounded much “bigger” and, coupled with the strings, might have given more of a genuine orchestral vibe, whereas the slighter sound of the acoustic guitar seems to help in retaining a general lack of pretentiousness. I think that might be the difference between the way strings are used in “Yesterday” vs. the way rock bands have used them since, as you say, “Yesterday” uses them as a textural addition, and seems to do so with a fair degree of intentionality. By contrast, a lot of bands using strings don't seem to know what they want - they layer on strings, horns, tympani and whatever else because, again as you implied, they're really looking to borrow some kind of authenticity or musical gravitas by using instruments that belong to “high music,” as it were. Not everyone can write “Bohemian Rhapsody,” but most people seem to think they can.

Aaron: Ha, Indeed! In fact, a song like “Bohemian Rhapsody” has probably had as much an influence on rock’s pretensions to seriousness as one like “Yesterday” because it is so BIG and has that operatic quality (in a good way) that I think sometimes gets misapplied to McCartney’s music (in a bad way). But the point is well made, specifically what you say about the relationship between the guitar and the strings in “Yesterday.” At the risk of getting a bit repetitive on this point, I think that knowledge, that in-studio savvy, is an important part of the Beatles’ legacy: while some of their songs might not seem “relevant” in today’s cultural context, their approach to song craft and recording – that combination of lyrics, musicianship, experimentation, and studio precision – that so defines their best work is incredibly relevant and vital today. I think you could argue that a band like Radiohead, even, as far as their sound is from the Beatles, is very directly a descendent of the Beatles in the way they consciously craft their songs. Perhaps that’s a stretch, but I don’t really think so.

But getting back to “Yesterday” and its relevance. I wanted to slip in an anecdote before signing off. A few years back I received a mix-CD (from our good buddy Dan D.) that included some live acoustic performances by Jeff Tweedy. Most of the performances (I believe) come from a show he did at Lounge Ax in Chicago – so, like, hipster central. He starts playing “Yesterday,” and the performance and the crowd reaction provide a really fascinating insight into the song’s reception these days. Tweedy plays it completely straight – no guitar flourishes, no funny voices, no sense of irony or cynicism at all. As he begins and sings the first line, there are audible bursts of laughter. A couple guys close to the recording mic actually start giggling derisively. Tweedy keeps plugging along. And the crowd starts to quiet down. A few people start singing along, and by the final bridge, what sounds like the whole crowd is singing along with obvious enthusiasm. It’s a great performance, to be sure. But it’s also a great example of how well the song works, how good the song is, if it’s listened to as the song it is, not some artifact of a long-lost era, or an example of some mythological faux-sentimentality on the part of Paul McCartney.

That’s my take, anyway. Any final thoughts on your part, Lew? It’s a big song – anything that needs saying before we turn it over to our readers?

Lew: I don't have much to add, although I think your observation that Radiohead owes a lot of its experimental approach to the legacy of the Beatles is spot on. I don't think it's at all far-fetched to compare Radiohead's development since Pablo Honey to the Beatles development from Please Please Me onward.

I'd like to hear that Jeff Tweedy performance.

I'll close my remarks on Yesterday by saying how surprised and pleased I am that it turned out to be such a fertile topic of conversation. For anyone who hasn't really given the song a serious listen (or five) in a few years, I definitely recommend further investigation.

Coming Next: We do our best to return to the (semi-) obscure with a track from the Beatles’ sixth UK release, Rubber Soul.

"Every Little Thing" Beatles for Sale (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.

Next up, we're looking at The Beatles' fourth studio album, Beatles For Sale. This album finds the band taking a step back from composing all the songs for the album, as they had done on A Hard Day's Night, and including covers of songs by Chuck Berry and Carl Perkins, among others. The return to including so many covers may be due, in part, to the fact that the band released their first four albums over a span of only twenty one months, and it’s possible that they were feeling a bit creatively tapped. However, the album does show some steps forward in terms of songwriting and overall lyrical content, which showed a slightly darker side of The Beatles than that seen on earlier releases. Beatles For Sale was the first album that The Beatles released after having met Bob Dylan while on tour in 1964, and is generally thought to owe some of its darker shadings to his influence.

This time out, we're going to be listening to and discussing the track "Every Little Thing." While it’s undoubtedly familiar to Beatles fans, "Every Little Thing" is relatively unknown when compared to other tracks from the album like "Eight Days a Week," or "No Reply." Aaron selected this track for discussion quite early in our planning of Track Chatter entries, so let's have some opening thoughts on the song from him.



Aaron: “Every Little Thing” was relatively new to me when I was looking for a track to choose from this album. I’m sure I’d heard it before, but it didn’t jump out at me as being overly familiar like most of the other songs from the album, original and cover alike. The first thing that struck me was the insanely catchy chorus. In fact, on my first couple of listens, I naively thought that the chorus was really all that the song had going for it.

And I hope we spend a bit of time discussing that part of the song. But the more I listened, the more I realized how much is actually going on here. I’m not sure if the band and George Martin were starting to feel more comfortable with four-track recording, but the multi-tracking on this song seems really proficient.

But the thing I’m really liking about “Every Little Thing” at the moment is the drumming. There is a very effective build up that takes place through each verse and into the chorus. During the first half of each verse, Ringo keeps time only with the bass drum. Then, as John starts singing the second half, the snare drum kicks in, which increases the song’s intensity. As the band transitions from verse to chorus, Ringo starts hitting the ride cymbal pretty hard (it’s low in the mix, but still quite noticeable). And then, finally, there is that BOOM BOOM of the tympani (also played by Ringo, I’m assuming as an overdub). It’s clever drum production to be sure, but it’s also more than that. I’m pretty sure the drumming is just as responsible for what makes the chorus work as any of the lyrical or musical components. So, Lew, I’ve given you a few threads to play with there. Feel free to grab at any one of them.

Lew: In terms of lesser-known Beatles tracks, I think this is a really strong choice of songs. There's a lot to say about the song, in terms of the writing, but, as you noted in your comments above, the arrangement is particularly striking. I completely agree that the drumming is a big part of that. Ringo does a great job of approaching his drum part compositionally, which helps both to propel and define the sections of the song. It's almost like a Stewart Copeland drum part in that respect, although obviously not as complex. I also have to mention the timpani part briefly, because it adds so much depth to the chorus! It's a small, but brilliant addition, in my opinion.

I also think that George's guitar part is one the great things about the arrangement. It echoes the melody sung in the verses, at the very beginning of the song, and at other recurrent sections of the song. The ways he reintroduces it during the coda, alternating with the vocals singing "Every Little Thing" is a really smart piece of composition. At first, I thought he was playing an electric 12-string, but after some reading, I found out that his part is actually double-tracked (which speaks to your observation about the use of multi-tracking in this song, I think). So, it isn't a 12 string, but it definitely has a similar sound, and prefigures the 12 string style used later on by Roger McGuinn (who formed The Byrds the same year Beatles For Sale was released), Mike Campbell, Peter Buck, and so on.

Aaron: One of the things I’m really loving about this series is how with each of your responses I have to go back to the song and listen again. I didn’t pick up on the 12-string sound at all on the first few listens – it’s pretty subtle (to my ears, anyway) – but now that you mention it, it’s clear as a bell. It’s a good example of how deftly the Beatles and Martin were able to take advantage of advances in studio recording. Of course, later in their career (and with the Beach Boys, Pink Floyd, etc.), multi-tracking would be used for more . . . “far out” results. But here, as you point out, the effect is to contribute to the texture of the song without calling too much attention to itself. I know you and I have talked a lot in the past about whether a certain instrument, solo, lyric, etc. “serves the song,” and this is a fine example of that.

I was excited that you mentioned The Byrds. When I was trying to decide which track to choose from Beatles for Sale, I almost went for “What You’re Doing” because I thought it might be interesting to talk about that song’s (potential) influence on certain ‘60s groups. Roger McGuinn has always been pretty open about the influence of The Beatles on The Byrds – particularly the sound of George playing 12-string. If you listen to the beginning of “What You’re Doing,” it’s hard to deny a straight line from that track to The Byrds’ recording, the following year, of “Mr. Tambourine Man.” So I was happy that you picked up on a similar, less overt example of that influence in “Every Little Thing.”

And you know what, the more I listen to the song, the more I’m starting to appreciate the lyrics. I particularly like the line, “I remember the first time / I was lonely without her.” There’s an evocativeness in the line’s lack of reliance on simile or metaphor that I appreciate. Not to say that it deserves a spot in the Beatles lyric hall of fame (and maybe the song’s just growing on me), but I can see why people look at Beatles for Sale as a turning point in many ways. The band is really shifting here from earnest strivers to seasoned professionals.

Lew: I should say that I’ve been pushed into listening again by remarks that you’ve made, as well. The drum part in “Every Little Thing” is a great example – beyond being aware that the drums were keeping time and that there was a tympani in the chorus, I really hadn’t paid much attention to it at all until you brought it up.

To your point about the guitar part “serving the song,” I completely agree. In fact, I think I’d be hard-pressed to point to any instance of The Beatles playing a part that doesn’t serve the song. Even the parts that I don’t like as well seem to have the intention of representing the song in the best way possible. I think it’s often assumed that The Beatles weren’t very musically self-indulgent because they lacked the virtuosity to play more challenging parts. There may be some degree of truth to that idea (George wasn’t going to be playing Paganini’s Caprices, Ringo probably didn’t have a lot of skill with polyrhythms, etc.), but I think that misses the point. Whatever level of skill The Beatles were at, they seem to have been fairly disinterested by displaying that skill through anything other than playing a song.

Also, I think the lyrics are very effective – mainly because of the simplicity that you mentioned. It’s interesting to me that this is a Paul song – it sounds like something I’d expect Lennon to have written around this time. The fact that his voice is the one most clearly audible on the track probably contributes to that impression, but I definitely think of Paul’s lyrics as having less honest vulnerability (to bring up a term from our “Tell Me Why” discussion).

Aaron: At some point, I’m sure, we’ll spend more time on the Paul v. John question and all it’s many manifestations. Until then, I would say that your description of McCartney’s approach to lyric-writing is probably pretty commonly held. And yet, it’s around this time that he writes “Yesterday,” which, for all the hoopla surrounding it, is a pretty honest, simple, and direct song. (I don’t think it’s anything new to claim that a lot of the arguments about Paul v. John have more to do with personality than talent or quality.) In the case of “Every Little Thing,” I don’t think Paul’s approach to honest sincerity is quite there yet – if we compare it to some of John’s songs from the album like “I’m a Loser” or even “I Don’t Want to Spoil the Party” – but it does have the kind of simple clarity that he would soon achieve with songs like “Yesterday” or “I’m Looking Through You” (which was recorded only a year after “Every Little Thing”).

I think it was around this time that Lennon/McCartney stopped actively writing together – I’ve read that “Baby’s in Black” from Beatles For Sale is the last song on which they worked out the lyrics together. I wonder how much competition – for album space, for choice of single, for respect from other songwriters, etc. – would come to play in the way John and Paul’s songwriting would push each other. Do you know anything about that?

Another thing I think is worth mentioning, bringing it back to the song’s arrangement and production, is that it’s around this time that the band starts pushing themselves musically to be more creative. I agree with you whole-heartedly that this was almost always done in service to the song. However, they’re going to start using different time signatures (which, “Baby’s in Black” being one example) or things like the droning bass on “Ticket to Ride” from Help!. “Every Little Thing,” I think, is a lesser-known, but perhaps important indicator of the direction they were thinking about going in musically.

Lew: Sure, I think that your point about the production of “Every Little Thing” is very well taken. As you say, it really shows that they were thinking about production when they put together an arrangement. I'd even go so far as to say that the way “Every Little Thing” is produced shows an ability to think about music from an increasingly sonic point of view. At the risk of stating the obvious, there's more at stake here than simply playing through the song - they're trying to use sounds that affect the listener's perception of the song. As far as I can tell, the tympani part's main function is to get your attention so you'll pay attention to the chorus. So yes, I think it's an indicator of where the band was going, and also of the effect that they would have on music as a whole.

About John and Paul writing together, I’d agree that around this time there’s starting to be a much clearer delineation between the songs that belonged to primarily one or the other. I think that they were still collaborating up through Sgt. Pepper’s - they were definitely working together on “Getting Better” and “A Day in the Life” - but it's definitely on the decline. To your question about the competition that they may have felt for album space, I’m not sure. The fact that “Every Little Thing” was written by Paul, but primarily sung by John, suggests to me that their creative relationship was still strong, but I don't have any facts to support that.

Aaron: I like the way you put that – thinking sonically – it’s something that they rarely get credit for outside of discussions of Sgt. Pepper’s. Just to elaborate on one point, I didn’t mean to suggest that they stopped collaborating around this time – only that, from what I’ve read, they stopped the sort of “head-to-head” writing (as John called it) that they did in the early days, when they would sit down and write a song – it’s lyrics, music, melody, etc. – together.

I’ve really enjoyed the discussion of this song, which we almost didn’t choose, but which, I think, more than any of the others we’ve talked about yet, has really heightened my appreciation for how many cylinders these guys had firing at this point in their career. It really is the sound of a great band becoming even better.

Up next: A song from Help! that you’ve probably never heard of . . .

"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.