Showing posts with label John Lennon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Lennon. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

The Beatles - Some Final Thoughts

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: Well, Lew, we’ve done it. It took longer than I thought it would. Our first post on The Beatles came almost exactly two years ago, and since then we’ve written about sixteen Beatles tracks. Did you think it would take that long?

Lew: I definitely did not expect or plan for it to take this long! There’s a John Lennon quote (which you may know) that goes, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans” – seems pretty appropriate here. I have to admit, I’m feeling a little conflicted now that we’re actually finishing it. I was looking forward to moving on to other topics, but I also feel weirdly like I’m going to miss talking about The Beatles. Maybe this is a loaded question, but how do you feel about seeing the end of this project?

Aaron: I’m a bit conflicted as well. When we first started the project, I sort of thought we’d burn through it in a few months, maybe 6 to 8 or so, and I was really excited. And while we were working on those first few entries, I got a real rush going back and listening to those older albums in full – it had been along time since I’d listened to all of Please Please Me or A Hard Day’s Night, for example – and in most cases, I was listening to the mono re-masters. That meant that in addition to hearing a lot of the songs again for the first time, I was hearing them in ways I hadn’t before, which was incredibly exciting. I think that sense of excitement comes out in those early entries in the way we write about something like the sound of Paul’s bass or the harmonies.

But as time passed and “life happened,” I sort of started to feel like perhaps we’d been a bit too ambitious. So I got worried we’d never finish and I found myself sort of wishing we’d started with a smaller project so that the pressure to do it all wouldn’t have seemed so immense.

However, now that it’s coming to an end, I do feel a bit wistful. I’ve so enjoyed the intensity of listening to each of these albums in preparation for each entry that I’ll be sad to see that go. However, I really do feel like my appreciation for The Beatles has not only intensified, but also that it’s a lot more grounded now. In that sense, I’m really excited about the conversations we’ve had.

How about you? Did the project change the way you listen to the band at all?

Monday, April 8, 2013

Track #13: "I've Got a Feeling" Let It Be (1970)

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.

Lew: It’s rare to hear the Beatles’ final album, Let It Be, discussed without an accompanying discussion of the famously difficult sessions that went into recording the album, or the personal conflicts that ensued and ultimately led to the break-up of the band. As a historical component of the Beatles’ eventual dissolution, it makes sense to view the finished album, and the sessions that created it (as detailed in the movie of the same name) as one artifact. That said, it’s unlikely that the album gets a fair shake when situated against the arguments of whether Paul or John was right, or whether Yoko really broke up the band. The truth is that it’s an interesting album on its own merits, and might have indicated a new creative period for the band if they had continued. Paul’s idea of going back to basics had yielded results that weren’t as predictable as one might expect. Rather than an obvious return to the songwriting style of Beatles For Sale or Help!, Let It Be filters a large part of its simplified approach through the more ambitious work of their later output – whether in a literal or reactionary sense – striking a balance between less complex arrangements and charting new territory (“One After 909” notwithstanding) compositionally.

“I’ve Got a Feeling” marries simplicity and complexity as well as any other song on Let It Be. On one hand, the musical structure is fairly basic, and the arrangement is pretty straightforward. At the same time, the song itself is a marriage between two song fragments, written by McCartney and Lennon, respectively. It’s a move that recalls the multi-part suite at the end of Abbey Road, but on a more modest scale, and I would say in a more organic way. I have to admit that it never occurred to me that the two sections of the song originated separately until I did some reading to prepare for discussing it here, which I think speaks to how well McCartney and Lennon were able to work together, even at this late date.

Aaron, there’s a lot worth discussing in “I’ve Got a Feeling,” but I guess I’m interested in starting with how you see it fitting into The Beatles’ work as a whole. Do you think it’s a new approach, or would you say that it fits in somewhere in the songs that precede it?




Monday, November 28, 2011

Track #10: “Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except Me and My Monkey” The Beatles (1967)


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: Released late in 1968, The Beatles is an album whose reputation rests almost as much on its non-musical aspects as on the songs themselves. Perhaps best known as The White Album (to which we will refer to it here, for simplicity’s sake), it is the band’s only official double album, it was the first Beatles’ album released on their new Apple Records label, and it was the last of their albums to be released in both mono and stereo versions. Those are the facts. It’s also known as the album that almost broke the band up – with each member becoming more concerned with his own songs than with recording as a “band,” a unit of four guys giving their best to each number. The divisiveness that came to the surface during the recording of the album led Ringo to quit the band temporarily (because of this departure, Paul plays drums on “Dear Prudence” and, maybe, “Back in the U.S.S.R.”). Our purposes here are to talk more about the songs than the biographies, but it is worth noting that after ten years of being together nearly constantly and five years of being the biggest band in the world, the strain was starting to show and such powerful egos in such close proximity were starting to cause caustic rather than inspirational sparks to fire.

One aspect of personality that does play an important role, however – in terms of both the album itself and this week’s track, “Everybody’s Got Something To Hide Except for Me and My Monkey” – is the re-emergence of John Lennon as a powerful creative force within the band. Over the previous three albums, John had certainly contributed key tracks, but it had been Paul who was in many ways the driving force behind the band’s sound and development. On The White Album, John’s presence is powerful, and his ability to present a unity of personality within a widely diverse group of songs is almost staggering. I think an argument could be made that it’s on The White Album that John Lennon first becomes “John Lennon,” the post-Beatle who can write songs of savage ferocity or surreal humor, or simple reflections on love and daily life, without ever seeming like he’s trying on different sounds just for the sake of it.

Coming halfway through side three, “. . . Me and My Monkey” is one of Lennon’s most exuberant, all-out rockers from throughout his Beatles’ career. What do you think, Lew . . . is it fair to call The White Album more of a Lennon album than the previous few albums? And how does this track fit into (or undermine?) that contention?


Lew: I think John Lennon's songwriting is definitely the most focused work on The White Album, and I would strongly agree with your statement that The White Album marks the emergence of John Lennon the solo artist. He really doesn't sound like he’s writing from within The Beatles. I think The Beatles post-Rubber Soul albums, great as they are, operate in a lot of respects from a position of self-consciousness – that is to say, they were trying to make albums that they thought The Beatles should make (or thought that people thought The Beatles should make), and writing songs accordingly. I don’t think many of the John Lennon songs on The White Album have that feel at all, with the obvious exception of “Glass Onion,” which can probably be seen as a sort of final, overt kiss-off to those expectations. But, on the other hand, I think a track like “Everybody’s Got Something To Hide Except for Me and My Monkey” is casting off that sense of expectation deliberately in the sense that it simply doesn't acknowledge them. As opposed to being overtly philosophical, “Everybody’s Got Something To Hide Except for Me and My Monkey,” becomes philosophical in its simplicity and sense of rocking, escapist fun. The higher you fly, the deeper you go, as it were.

Aaron: Interesting take. I see where you’re coming from with what you say about the band’s self-consciousness, but I wonder if there wasn’t more going on than that. I think they were pretty much caught up in whatever it was or whatever it meant to be “THE BEATLES,” and so on one level I imagine there was some pressure to live up to that. On the other hand though, it seems like at some point, their innate sense of playfulness started manifesting itself in a kind of rebellious urge to confound expectations, to push away from what it meant to be The Beatles, and even, at some points, to undermine those expectations. I’m thinking of all that chatter that starts to appear on the albums where they poke fun at themselves and the song they’ve just played. On top of all that was their obvious love of experimentation, which we’ve discussed several times before. From Rubber Soul (or even Help!) onwards, they seem to have been more willing to follow those different strains in their musical personalities and, perhaps, by the time of The White Album, their personalities had diverged to the extent that those experiments were more personally motivated than band motivated. I think what that meant for Lennon was that, influenced by Yoko, he wanted to experiment – so came songs like the multi-form “Happiness is a Warm Gun” or the musique concrete of “Revolution 9.” But I also think he just really wanted to rock out, for the first time in a long time. So comes the hard blues of “Yer Blues” and the wonderful exuberance of “Everybody’s Got Something To Hide Except for Me and My Monkey.”

Speaking of which . . . what makes the song so damned much fun?

Lew: I see what you mean when you say that the band had been pushing against whatever expectation they felt to be The Beatles. I definitely would not make the argument that elements of Revolver, Sgt. Pepper and so on weren’t meant to challenge their listeners. On the other hand, I think that the playfulness you mentioned is part of the presentation. I think there was a sense of letting the audience in on a joke – “Haha! We’re The Beatles and we're challenging your expectations. Isn’t it fun and whimsical?” – whereas, on “Glass Onion,” John is basically saying, “you were never in on the joke, stop assuming you know anything about me.” Anyway, I don’t mean to bog down our discussion of a great song, since that is our ostensible purpose.

So, what does make EGSTHEMAMM (haha!) such a fun song?  Well, first of all it’s got a fantastic hook. Or, more properly, it’s got several of them – at least one memorable guitar part, and pretty much every vocal part in the song. Not only that, the guitar has a great overdriven sound of the kind that would be right at home on a Led Zeppelin or AC/DC album. Maybe that’s a bit of a broad overview, though – what makes the song fun for you?

Aaron: Well, the hooks are a big part of it. From the way the opening groove quickly switches pace to something much more frantic – with that relentless ride cymbal and Lennon crying out “come on, come on” – through the ending fade out that seems to come too soon, the song is exhilarating in its exhortations to . . . well, whatever it is the song’s really exhorting us to do. I like the guitar riff over the verse and the way it seems just . . . almost . . . not quite out of time with the drums. I love the way the drumbeat seems tied to the ride cymbal, but also not. And I love the way Lennon sings the whole thing just one step down from a shout. It gives the whole song a chaotic vibe – it’s teetering on tipping over into a garbled mess, but the band keeps hold of the reins and never lets it tumble. Which is really interesting because the lyrics, in a way, are about finding a sort of peace with the world. While they’re rooted in The Beatles’ trip to India, they also have a zen-like quality to them (“the deeper you go, the higher you fly”). So in a sense the song becomes a frantic, exuberant celebration of calmness and clarity. Even though the lyrical playfulness is much simpler than it was on “Walrus” (perhaps because of this), I find it more exciting. And as much as I really like The Beatles, this is one of their few songs that make me want to get up and do, go, run, jump, fly . . . even more so than most of the wild songs of their early years.

And I agree about the guitar sound. While the band had been pushing the performance they could get out of their and Abbey Road’s equipment, it seems like it’s really on The White Album that they find the sound of “modern” rock, at least as it would be played up through the punk years or so. And it’s mostly on Lennon’s songs where the drive for that sound can be noticed. Do you think that’s accurate?

Lew: I think you’re accurate on all counts – your analysis of the song from the bottom up is actually quite a bit better than the way I had gotten around to thinking of it, so thanks for bringing some clarity to the discussion. When I was listening to it recently, I was thinking about that guitar part during the verse. It is definitely a cool syncopation. I see what you mean about it sounding almost out of time with the drums – the interaction between the guitar and the ride cymbal is very close to chaos. Of course, that’s part of what makes the song so great, because when it drops into the chorus (pre-chorus?), everything suddenly locks together. It’s a great juxtaposition, in which each part really justifies the other – much like the contrast between the lyrics and the way John sings the song that you pointed out. One of the most impressive things about the lyrics, for me, is how minimal they are. There really aren't more than a few phrases in the song, but between the beat and the vocal take, everything seems to take on a much greater significance. It’s almost a disservice to the song to call it “evocative,” because what it evokes really precludes that kind of vocabulary for me, but it is one of those songs that reminds me of why parents used to be concerned about their kids listening to rock music – a lot of things seem possible for the two and a half minutes that you’re listening to it.

Aaron: I love that – “a lot of things seem possible for the two and a half minutes that you’re listening to it” – what a great way to describe what a good pop song should do! And it links up with another thing I love about the song, which is how effortless it seems, even though the band apparently rehearsed it for several days before landing on a take that they liked. The lyrics play a large part in that, and it goes back to what I was trying to get at before about the emergence of “Lennon” (or, as some would have it, simply the re-emergence of John Lennon) – he’s not trying so hard here. He’s a rocker, a psychedelic guru, a cynic, a proponent of some sort of peaceful mysticism, a political commentator, the lover of Yoko Ono, and so much more. These aspects of his personality will continue to clash in his music throughout the early ‘70s, but at the same time he seems more at peace with the contradictions, more willing to follow the individual muse of each particular song wherever it will take him. So on The White Album, even though the subject matter and form of his songs are quite diverse, they all sound organic and of a whole. And in some way, the lyrics of “ . . . Me and My Monkey” seem to be commenting on that sense of ease, like, it really does seem that either he’s nothing left to hide, or he’s just plain tired of hiding whatever it is. It’s completely untrue for his personal life, of course, but perhaps it’s an accurate assessment of his artistic mind for much of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s.
 
Lew: I think you’re right in saying that Lennon is much more at peace here, artistically speaking, than he is in earlier work. Of course, as you’ve also pointed out, his personal life was in a comparative state of upheaval. As a songwriter, however, he seems to have reached a point where he's somewhat more comfortable. I want to qualify “comfortable” as being different from “complacent” – I don't mean to imply that he was coasting on past accomplishments. But, I think we're seeing him, starting with The White Album, as someone who has a certain level of artistic confidence and trust for his instinctive decisions. That kind of confidence can cut both ways, but in this case, it makes for a great pop/rock song.

Aaron: And with that, we’ll leave off and let our readers weigh in with anything they might have to say about “Me and My Monkey,” The White Album, Lennon’s evolution as an artist, or anything else you all might want to add.

Coming Next: We’ve decided to dedicate two weeks to The White Album while shaving YellowSubmarine out of the mix. YS is not necessarily a bad album – and it includes the excellent “Hey Bulldog,” which we think fits nicely with the above conversation – but while it is considered a Beatles’ album proper, it is also made up of half instrumentals and several reissues, so it can’t really be considered a fully formed artistic statement like the rest of the band’s albums.

So next time around, we’ll finally make a visit with Ringo, then we’ve got Abbey Road and Let it Be and that’ll see us wind down the first phase of Track Chatter.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

“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.