Author: Jude Southerland Kessler

‘Cause They Were Taxed, Man…

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This is the first of 14 blogs discussing the songs on the Revolver LP. We invite you to add to this introductory information by posting your own facts about the song. We’d also love to hear from you concerning your opinions about the lyrics, music, and background of “Taxman.” Comment away!

 

1,2,3,4…and there it was: the familiar count-in. The comforting sound that had begun the Please Please Me LP. Except that it wasn’t…familiar, that is. Something was amiss.

 

This count-in was slightly disconnected, an appendage to the song, not an organic part of it. The timing was somewhat different; the transition, rough. And knowing that The Beatles did nothing unintentionally, (even when they sang lyrics erroneously, they often left the odd overlaps in the song on purpose, creating a human, “we’re infallible, too” atmosphere), we knew immediately that this disjointed intro held significance. It housed meaning.

 

The old, accustomed “count in” to the jangling rock’n’roll songs that had set “the teacups to rattling” (1) was gone. This count-in device heralded something new, something technically different, something seemingly same but dramatically innovative. All the customary pieces were there, but they’d been stitched together differently. Rearranged. And from the initial count-in, we knew that.

 

And that voice! It was…George! George who had always been permitted one (or lavishly, two) songs per LP. George, who had never opened a Beatles album before. George, and not Leader John, whose gravelly (and gorgeous) rock voice had welcomed us to With The Beatles, Beatles for Sale, and A Hard Day’s Night. And if not John, then it had always been Paul ushering in the 14 elegant servings laid upon the table by The Fab Four. Never, ever, ever had an LP been kicked off by George. Even Harrison’s most devoted fans were puzzled.

 

Nothing about “Taxman” was business as usual. Even the subject matter.

 

We were to discover, over the course of the next hour, that Revolver was revolutionary, a serious LP about serious topics: loneliness, loss, death, tragedy, and yes, even taxes. No silly love songs, these. Revolver sprang from the fertile landscape of upheaval: John’s failing marriage and the backlash of his “Jesus” comments, Paul’s ongoing struggles with Jane Asher, George’s religious awakening, the lads’ disenchantment with fame, and the life-altering inclusion of drugs into their experience. Oh, the times they were a-changin,’ and no album revealed those vast changes more graphically than Revolver. Indeed, the records’ first seven words swept the listener into the grim, beleaguered world of The Beatles.

 

“Let me tell you how it will be…” This was the phrase that John, Paul, George, and Ringo had grown accustomed to hearing…from Brian Epstein, Brian Sommerville, George Martin, Walter Shenson, Dick Lester, Dick James, and at times, even their own Neil Aspinall. John had heard the acrimonious phrase when he’d married Cynthia and was ordered to keep her cloistered and quiet. George heard it when he’d refused to go on the 1964 World Tour without Ringo. And lately, they’d all heard it as they’d vehemently protested the need to go out “on the road” while Brian had just as adamantly demanded they go right on touring. They were told “how it would be.” And, no one –- it seemed –- listened to The Beatles, most especially Britain’s tax man, who greedily gobbled up 95 percent of their hard-won earnings.

 

As strongly as George protested the unfair loss of his back-breakingly accrued income in the bitter lyrics of “Taxman,” on a grander scale, he was also protesting the group’s loss of autonomy. The Beatles felt that they had no voice, no say in anything. And though “Taxman” is, without a doubt, a strong Harrison offering, all of The Beatles played a part in making this song work. They all firmly believed in the sentiment this song was expressing. Thus “Taxman” became a rare collaboration, a one-for-all and all-for-one group effort.

 

John assisted George with the lyrics, suggesting that the background chorus sing, “Ahhhh, Mr. Wilson! Ahhh, Mr. Heath!” instead of the original words: “Anybody got a bit of money?” (2) Twanging that chorus to the “Batman” theme sound (3), John and George drove their meaning straight home: “We’ve been reduced to cartoon characters, y’know!” or more poetically, “We all live in a dark comedy.” “Taxman”’s simple words held myriad double entendres.

 

McCartney, Robert Rodriguez points out in his remarkable book, Revolver: How The Beatles Re-Imagined Rock’n’Roll, supported George as well, offering to pick up his Rickenbacker (not his Hofner) and expertly perform the song’s lead break…even adding a bit of Indian flair, as a cutting edge homage to his friend. And Ringo manned the drums and cowbell with a vehemence this topic engendered in them all. The Beatles were sick to death of being taken advantage of by anyone and everyone. They were taxed, man.

 

At the LP’s very outset -– in “Taxman” –- The Beatles were boldly calling out their offenders: The Labour Party and its leaders, the Conservative Party and its top brass, the press and film makers, their booking agents and publishing company, their merchandisers and record label, their producer and engineers, their wives and girlfriends, their manager, their roadies and publicity agents…even us, their fans. The boys were sick to death of “one for [them] and nineteen for [everyone else].” Day in and day out, they gave 95 percent as they wrote, sang, performed, acted, overdubbed, answered, bowed, mimed, clowned, smiled on cue, apologized, backtracked, packed up and moved on again, set up and tore down, hurried up and waited…they did everything they were told to do by arrogant others who only did a meager five percent. And they were tired of it.

 

“Taxman” set the tone for the rest of the LP. It said, “We’ve had enough. More than enough. We are no longer your performing fleas. This time we have something to say. And it’s not just ‘yeah, yeah, yeah.’ Sit up and take notice! You have been served.”

 

1. This is Johnathan Gould’s description of “She Loves You” in his book, Can’t Buy Me Love.
2. Robert Rodriguez, Revolver: How The Beatles Re-Imagined Rock’n’Roll, 127.
3. Read Robert Rodriguez’s discussion of “Taxman” to find out why this “unmistakable evocation of television’s then-current Batman series” might be impossible! Very interesting!

Jude Southerland Kessler is the author of the John Lennon Series: www.johnlennonseries.com

 

Jude is represented by 910 Public Relations — @910PubRel on Twitter and 910 Public Relations on Facebook.

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The Fest for Beatles Fans Dialogue on Revolver, Part 1

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It was the blistering and bewildering summer of ’66. The Westinghouse air conditioner humming in my bedroom window provided more noise than relief as Emily Moss, Emily Wofford, and Patty Dalme waited impatiently as I carefully removed Revolver from its strange black and white cardboard sleeve.

 

I placed it on the turntable. Moss ate sliced lemons, dipped liberally into a saucer of fine sugar -– a dentist’s daydream of potential cavities. Patty and Emily smacked their Double Bubble and lazily thumbed through the latest Datebook. And, gauging my audience, I adjusted the volume on my new Magnavox record player as the count-in to “Taxman” began. That was the blistering part.

 

The half-hour or so that followed was the bewildering part…as if the summer of 1966 weren’t upsetting enough to four conservative girls from North Louisiana: boys in paisley shirts! Moms in vinyl raincoats and Mary Quant caps! The endless Vietnam War protests…the violent race riots! Our idyllic, happy days, we thought, were all but gone. Life had become bizarre and complex.

 

As we listened to “For No One” and “She Said, She Said” and finally, “Tomorrow Never Knows,” Revolver seemed the strangest part of that odd, pogo stick summer. For a few uncomfortable moments, as the needle found the scratchy play-out grooves, we were afraid to say anything. It took all the courage I could muster to even look at my friends.

 

“Well…” I had recently taken up swearing as an emblem of adult independence, “what the hell has happened to The Beatles?
“Yeah, what was that?” Emily Wofford shook herself the way a cat does when you’ve been holding it closely and set it free.
“That reeeeeeked!” Patty always knew her mind and spoke it.

 

Woffie and I nodded and shook our heads, agreeing but completely disgusted. But there was one in every crowd, or so they said.

 

“Ah, I don’t know,” Emily Moss sprawled out full-length on the bedspread, the way my Mother had told us never to do, “I thought it was pretty damn cool!” That was Moss. Her brother, Donald, was in a real band. He wore fringed, knee-length, moccasin boots, had long hair and colored beads that draped the doorway to his bedroom. If we had a “cutting edge” in our junior high foursome, Moss was definitely the one.

 

“Pffft! Define cool if that’s cool!” Woffie demanded.
“Yeah, well, I hated it,” I cut across the cool issue. “John didn’t even sound like John! And he was hardly on the record anyway! What’s the use of the record if John’s not there?” It was, after all, the Capitol version.

 

And so the discussion went in many bedrooms and family rooms and cars and soda shops and A&W Root Beer Stands and striped-awning Water Ice shops and narrow-laned hamburger joints across America. Was Revolver the most innovative, ground-breaking, breath of fresh air LP that The Beatles had ever created? Or was it junk? Was it art or was it a piece of “The Emperor’s New Clothes?” Was it brilliance or pure nonsense?

 

Over the next few months, I hope you’ll join me as we discuss these things together and share insights into each song on the Revolver LP. Every two weeks, I’ll post established research about Revolver from Beatles music scholars such as Robert Rodriguez, Walter Everett, Bruce Spizer, Anthony Robustelli, Aaron Krerowicz, Tim Riley, and many others. I’ll also propose a few of my own new and original ideas about the tracks.

 

I hope you’ll join in and share your facts and opinions and help us create The Fest for Beatles Fans Blog Dialogue on Revolver. We need YOU (Yeah, you! You in the paisley shirt!) to supplement what I’ll be sharing with additional and interesting information in our Comments Section.

 

There are so many controversial theories about the meanings of these songs and about the ways in which they were created and performed. So at times, we may disagree. That’s wonderful as long as we all disagree politely. All respectful opinions will be posted for everyone to enjoy. We want you all to be a part of this collaborative project and to jump in with your thoughts and information. Let’s work together to examine Revolver 50 years later and to find out what we’ve learned since the Summer of 1966!

 

To kick it all off, tell us your story!!! Where were you when you heard Revolver for the first time? And what, pray tell, did you think about it?

 

Hey, wait a sec…let me grab a cold Fresca and unwrap my Moonpie. Okay, there we go! Now I’m ready. Do tell!

 

Jude Southerland Kessler is the author of the John Lennon Series: www.johnlennonseries.com

 

Jude is represented by 910 Public Relations — @910PubRel on Twitter and 910 Public Relations on Facebook.

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Say the Word

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You’re probably not surprised to find out that my husband played in a band (mainly rhythm guitar, but he also plays bass and piano). And, he’s recorded his own CD of original songs called Preferred Risk. Over the last few days, I’ve heard one of his songs –- called “Words” –- playing in a loop in my head. The “hook” or catch phrase is this:

 

Words that are written down –
Meanings realized –
Words placed together
Change our lives.

 

What could be more true? Think of all the wonderful words that have altered the course of your life: “I do.” “It’s a boy!” or “It’s a girl!” or “It’s twins!” or “You won!” or “I have your back.” Or “You’ll be attending (your favorite school’s name here) this fall!” or “I love you.” These words lift us up for years to come.

 

John Lennon placed his heart’s longing and his life’s purpose in the hands of words. He said quite honestly, “Half of what I say in meaningless. But I say it just to reach you, Julia.” In that simple, honest line he offered up, unabashedly, his life’s mission statement. And throughout his years here, John did just that. He used words to try to reach the “girl in a million, my friend,” the lovely Julia Lennon.

 

Paul McCartney, likewise, tried endlessly to explain to Jane Asher through his lyrics that he needed her to relinquish her career and “be with him” if they were to be happy. In one song after another (increasingly argumentative), he pled his case via “What You’re Doing,” “I’m Looking Through You,” “We Can Work it Out,” “You Won’t See Me,” and even “Here, There, and Everywhere.” Paul kept saying in plaintive words: “I need you to give up what you’re doing and be there for me.” He phrased it in every version possible.

 

Why? Because Paul knew that words have great appeal, great power. American poet Carl Sandburg realized that when he wrote this simple but unforgettable poem, “Primer Lesson.”


Look out how you use proud words.
When you let proud words go, it is not easy to call them back.
They wear long boots, hard boots; they walk off proud; they can’t hear you calling–
Look out how you use proud words.

 

No one understood this simple or “primer” lesson better than John Lennon. When his long and complicated discussion with journalist Maureen Cleave ended up being dissected, lifted out of context, and placed on the cover of Datebook magazine, John discovered how quickly the things we say and write can get away from us…can stalk off to live sordid lives of their own without our being able to “call them back.” Over and over and over on the 1966 North American Tour, in press conference after press conference, John apologized for his words about The Beatles being “more popular than Jesus.” But it was to no avail. His words had taken on a life of their own.

 

I’m a news junkie, and last night as I was listening to a rehashing of the day’s events, I decided that about 80 percent of our news items center on things that people have said: words or phrases about someone else, to someone else, about another country, agency, political candidate, or alleged crime for which they are being investigated. We even have a term for this sort of thing; we call it “a sound byte.” Words dominate our politics as well as our private lives.

 

Because society is inexorably “tied at the hip” (or “tied at the hype,” as you choose) to Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, Twitter, and every other social media “flava of the month,” words have become dangerous weapons hurled at others on the spur of the moment.

 

We Tweet without censure. We blast someone on Facebook. We “Like” or “Dislike” and leave nasty comments for one another at will. We use words to wound, accuse, blame, and tear down. Without any concrete evidence, we sling vile accusations that have zero basis in fact. And we think that is acceptable. It’s not.

 

John and Paul would have been the first to warn us all that words, once spoken (or written) cannot be retrieved. Indeed, Paul eloquently sang, “Her words (and kindness) linger on when she no longer needs you.”

 

Images fade. Over time, facts blur. But the words that someone speaks to us and about us linger on. We remember.

 

What does Paul McCartney remember about his Mother Mary? He remembers her words: “Let it be.”

 

What does John Lennon say will set you free? “The Word.”

 

What immediately ties you to George Harrison? A single word. “Something.”

 

And without Ringo’s words (for example, “Tomorrow Never Knows”) Beatles history would have been quite different.

 

In Liverpool, one of my favorite spots is the “bombed out church” now turned into a garden of reflection in the heart of the city. Here, the violence of war has been turned into a retreat of peace. The wreckage of a bomb’s tragic destruction is daily being transformed into beauty.

 

But the wreckage of words will not reverse itself as easily. Children are “crippled inside” for a lifetime by the words we say. Families are torn apart. Friendships are ended with no hope of reparation. Marriages are injured. Look out how you use words. They have a dark magic all their own. And, my friends, it is large and in charge.

Jude Southerland Kessler is the author of the John Lennon Series: www.johnlennonseries.com

 

Jude is represented by 910 Public Relations — @910PubRel on Twitter and 910 Public Relations on Facebook.

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When We’re Together

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Until I met him at the 2014 Los Angeles Fest for Beatles Fans, Steve Marinucci was just a pleasant, suntanned face under a broad-rimmed beach hat. Until I met Ken Michaels at the 2016 New York Metro Fest, he was just a wide smile and beautiful eyes. I’d just seen a face…

 

And before the many Fests I’ve attended over the last few years, Pete Best was just a legend, not the humble man who scratches his neck when embarrassed, who downplays his importance and talent, and who never utters a mean word about anyone, ever. Chas Newby was just the lad who walked away from The Beatles, the gifted bass player with other dreams. He wasn’t the thoughtful, kind, dear friend he is now. And he never would have been, without the Fest.

 

And Freda Kelly? Well, Freda was just The Beatles Fan Club Secretary, not the strong, funny, gentle, honest, loving, and yet no-nonsense friend she’s become. All of these people have blossomed into Living Color and 3-D since I saw them standing there.

 

Through the Fest, I’ve met almost every one of the dear friends in my life. Come to think of it, I can count on one hand the friends I have who weren’t introduced to me via The Fest.  Wow. Maybe I’m amazed…

 

Tonight in church, I was thinking how much what we experience at the Fest is like a church service. No, no, hear me out…it really is! (Lennonesque disclaimer here: This is not to say the Fest is bigger or more popular than the church!!! Ahem!) But truly… we gather; we sing; we pass the peace; we tell the story; we share one another’s woes and joys; we pray for one another; we study and learn together; we know each other’s families; we help one another through good times and bad…and yes, (you knew it was coming) we get by with a little help from our friends. And although you can be a Beatles fan without going to a Fest (just as you can certainly practice your religion without entering a church or synagogue or mosque or whatever), you’re sincerely missing out on something wonderful and meaningful if you don’t attend.

 

For the last month (ever since I left New York), I’ve been mulling over the meaning of the Fest and trying to come up with the most apt and picturesque words to describe it to those of you who’ve never attended. But like Paul (McCartney, not “of Tarsus”) I stumble and fall short, so “I’ll say the only words I know, so you’ll understand.”

 

The closest I can come to giving you a glimpse into the way you feel after attending a Fest for Beatles Fans is this: “You and I have memories longer than the road that stretches out ahead.” From the moment you open your car door in the hotel parking lot, you’re surrounded by people just like you. For three happy days you’re with people (of all ages) who share your collective memory, who understand. You are with those who know why you think and act as you do.

 

They may be teens or thirty-somethings or Baby Boomers, but they all – every one! – get it. They know why you say “Number Nine, Number Nine,why you snarl, “You’ve failed, haven’t y’jeweler?” or wink, “I am not what I seem.” They know what “God is a concept by which we measure our pain” means. And they know why you respectfully won’t wear red tonight. They’ve read the books you’ve read. They’ve memorized the songs you’ve memorized. They’d rather stay up all night and sing under the stairs than anything they can Imagine. They’re happy just to dance with you.  And at a moment’s notice, they’ll do the Cavern Stomp.

 

These are the friends you always wanted in junior high and high school…the perfect friends you couldn’t find. Some have blue hair, heavily glittered eye shadow, and 12-inch heels. Some wear sensible shoes and carry a cane. Some dress all-out Sgt. Pepper. Some tug on T-shirts and jeans. Some come for the speakers and miss everything to hear Pattie Boyd or Louise Harrison or Ken Townsend.

 

Others come for the bands and are breathless over Mark Hudson, Mark Rivera, Peter Noone, Gary Van Scyoc, and Billy J. Kramer. And still others come to introduce their children to the “act they’ve known for all these years,” so they beeline to Bob Abdou’s puppet show and his children’s parade…to Lanea Stagg’s popular class on making Savoy (chocolate) Truffles, and to the Friday night family dance featuring “Liverpool.” Our “clique” is completely and uniquely diverse…but we, in all the important ways, are exactly the same.

 

My husband works at a university, and several months ago, the President requested that his Administrative Cabinet submit their holiday schedules for the year. When he saw Rande’s list of events (six days for the New York Fest and six days for the Chicago Fest), he scribbled a quick note in the margin saying, “What? No vacation? ☹!” But Rande and I only smiled, knowing that by “Festing,” we are headed for the greatest holiday of them all. Roll up for the magical mystery tour!

 

For the last few minutes, I have been desperately trying to tell you about the Fest, but (as John Sebastian once observed) it’s “like tryin’ to tell a stranger about rock’n’roll.” It’s like trying to explain “hope” or “tangerine trees and marmalade skies” or the feeling of being “home, warm and dry.” It’s inexpressible.

 

But since I’ve been on a bit of a Paul spree in this blog (which is “very strange” in and of itself), let me close with Sir Macca (…and let that be an end to it, end to it!). Give this song a listen, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KZc_qGLP0qY  and then perhaps you’ll understand. Perhaps you’ll quit saying “Someday.” Perhaps you’ll come to the Chicago Fest and meet the friends who’ve “been waiting a lonely lifetime” to meet you. Perhaps at last you’ll find us. Will I see you there?  “I Will.”

Jude Southerland Kessler is the author of the John Lennon Series: www.johnlennonseries.com

 

Jude is represented by 910 Public Relations — @910PubRel on Twitter and 910 Public Relations on Facebook.

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Magic Man: Geoff Emerick

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“What kind of life am I living?”

 

That’s the question I’ve asked myself many times over the past 31 years as I’ve been extremely privileged to meet and interview many of John Lennon’s childhood friends, early band members, family members and Beatles associates in the process of writing The John Lennon Series. I’ve been so fortunate to get to know many people whom I never dreamed I’d even have the opportunity to meet!! And, let me hasten to say that that great good luck has never been taken for granted! Each day, I’m immensely grateful.

 

This past weekend, I was invited by the good folks at the GRAMMY Museum® Mississippi to meet Geoff Emerick and then hear him speak and answer questions about his stellar career. And having long been a student of his book, Here, There, and Everywhere and an admirer of his remarkable work with The Beatles as Engineer on Revolver, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, and Abbey Road, I was elated. I knew I’d enjoy the time spent with Geoff, but truly…it was even better than I’d anticipated.

 

 

Dressed in a plaid shirt, beige chinos, and high-top olive Converse, Geoff was casual – kind and unassuming. When I introduced my husband and myself to him, he shook my hand and said, “Geoff Emerick.” (As if we wouldn’t know!) He was honest (saying “I don’t remember” or “I can’t recall” when he didn’t). He was funny and articulate. And, he was very generous with his time, giving the intimate audience of less than 50 people two full hours of his time and memories…and then spending a great deal of time off stage signing autographs, answering questions one-on-one, and taking photos.

 

It was an incredible evening, and I thought you might enjoy hearing a few of the wonderful quips and quotes that he imparted to those who gathered to share “An Evening with Geoff Emerick.”

 

On John Lennon:

 

“He was the most aggressive of the four Beatles, but when he sang his voice held the most emotion. Tender. I always guessed he was thinking about his childhood.”

 

On Ringo Starr:

 

“He drummed his heart out in the studio! When the evening ended, there were broken pieces of drum sticks all over the floor.”

 

On recording the final guitar solos for “The End”:

 

“Yoko went literally everywhere with John. I mean, she sat on the floor outside the bathroom when he went in. But when he entered the studio to play his solo on ‘The End,’ he put up both hands and stopped her. ‘Not this time, luv,’ he said. And when they played those solos, they were sixteen again.”

 

On Mal Evans:

 

“The boys used to get rather aggravated with Mal if he didn’t have the things they needed. So he kept a roadie bag of just about everything: bandages, biscuits, elastic, tea, sugar, guitar strings, fuses…”

 

On George Harrison’s Indian music:

 

“Paul and John shared a nod ’n’a wink when George was recording his ‘new sound.’ I could tell they were thinking, ‘It’s all very nice, but it isn’t The Beatles, is it?’ But they went along.”

 

On The Beatles after Rishikesh:

 

“After India, they came back different…people we hardly knew. Dressed differently, they acted differently. Niggling at me. They weren’t the same people, and it wasn’t a change for the better.”

 

On Click Tracks:

 

“The only time we used a click track was in making ‘Eleanor Rigby.’ There was one playing in George Martin’s headset as he conducted the octet. Otherwise, we didn’t use them. They made the music too… artificial.”

 

On his knack with music:

 

“When I was a little boy, I had a toy gramophone on which I played 78’s. After I heard a song, I could sit down at the piano and play back what exactly I had heard. I didn’t have to plunk around for the correct notes. I knew where the next one would be.”

 

On recording:

 

“I see it as painting a picture with tonalities.”

 

 

 

 

On mono vs. stereo recordings:

 

“The mono mixes were made with The Beatles there, giving their input. They were never around for the stereo mixes. That was George Martin’s interpretation of what they’d want…and my interpretation. So, the mono recordings are the definitive mix.”

 

On Revolver:

 

“The role of the engineer changed with ‘Tomorrow Never Knows.’ No longer was I there just to capture sound. I was now creating sound.”

 

As you can see, it was a fantastic evening. Geoff would talk about a track, and then we’d play it and listen together. How exciting was that?!

 

Many of the aspects of being an author are less than glamorous: standing for eight to ten hours in a booth and stopping strangers with “Have you heard about the book?” just to get your work into the hands of readers is next-to-awful. But having the rare opportunity to chat with Geoff Emerick (or Bill Harry or Bob Wooler or Rod Murray) makes it all worth it.

 

When Geoff Emerick was invited by George Martin to become the Engineer on Revolver, he was fondly known to The Beatles as “Golden Ears.” And one can see why. However, after this past Saturday night, I’ll always think of him as “Magic Man.” His expertise, ground-breaking recording techniques and invention of new equipment (such as the Automatic Double Tracking device) astound me. But even more impressive is Geoff’s in-depth understanding of what The Beatles’ vision was for their music and his innate ability to give that vision life.

 

Geoff helped deliver the magic that became Revolver, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, and Abbey Road. Winning Grammys for these three LPs was, of course, incredibly well-deserved. But he won much more, didn’t he? Our hearts.

Jude Southerland Kessler is the author of the John Lennon Series: www.johnlennonseries.com

 

Jude is represented by 910 Public Relations — @910PubRel on Twitter and 910 Public Relations on Facebook.

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If Not For You

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It was an icy Liverpool winter, 1957, and seventeen-year-old John Lennon sat on his narrow bed just above the Mendips glassed-in porch, strumming his guitar and singing quietly to himself, lest Aunt Mimi hear. He was dreaming…dreaming of Someday…dreaming of becoming “bigger ’n Elvis.” That lazy afternoon, he was dreaming of achieving what he always referred to as “the toppermost of the poppermost.”

 

But NEVER…never in his wildest dreams did he ever imagine that 60 years later there would be Beatles authors, artists, reporters, bloggers, publicists, DJ’s with weekly Beatles radio shows, Las Vegas musicals, Broadway shows, websites, television specials, and a Fest for Beatles Fans. He never dreamed he was about to create a Beatles World.

 

Now, don’t get me wrong, John didn’t do it alone. He didn’t do it without the extraordinary genius of Paul McCartney, the talent and wry humor of George Harrison, and the grounded backbeat (both musically and spiritually) of Ringo Starr. And they didn’t do it without the ideas and concepts taught to him by Allan Williams (“Mach Shau, lads!”), Stu Sutcliffe (“Be an artiste, John, not just a rocker!”), Brian Epstein (“Dress appropriately; finish each song; don’t swear at the audience; stick to the playlist; bow after each number”.) and George Martin, whose creative magnificence helped to mold the music.

 

They didn’t do it without the input of so-called “Minor Players” (who were also giants in their own way): Neil Aspinall, Tony Barrow, Mal Evans, Beryl Adams, Pete Shotton, Bob Wooler, Tony Bramwell, Alistair Taylor…and oh yes, a slender lovely Irish girl who gave her time and talent to run the Beatles Fan Club, Freda Kelly. He didn’t do it without ghost writers, photographers, and reporters who told the story to you and me: Bill Harry, Ray Coleman, Hunter Davies, Maureen Cleave, Michael Braun, Larry Kane, Derek Taylor, Dezo Hoffman, Robert Freeman, or Ivor Davis.

 

Together an entire host of smart, determined, cutting-edge men and women worked shoulder-to-shoulder to create a phenomenon:

 

There were the EMI engineers and second engineers: Norman Smith, Geoff Emerick, Richard Langham…

 

The supporting actors in each film: Victor Spinetti (always there), Norm Rossington, Eleanor Bron, Leo McKern, Wilfred Brambell…

 

The style setters: Dougie Millings, Astrid Kirchherr, Horne Brothers…

 

The tour facilitators: Sid Bernstein, Norman Weiss, Tony Barrow, Bob Bonis…

 

The NEMS staff: Clive Epstein, Freda Kelly, Beryl Adams, Anne Collingham, Wendy Hanson, Tony Barrow, Alistair Taylor…

 

And those singularly important women: Julia Stanley Lennon, Louise Harrison, Mimi Smith, Elsie Greaves, Cynthia Powell Lennon, Maureen Starkey, Pattie Boyd Harrison, Jane Asher, Linda McCartney, Yoko Ono, Olivia Harrison, and May Pang.

 

It took an entourage – a retinue – to make this dream come true.

 

Right now, you’re shouting out a name I didn’t mention – someone whose role in the chain of events you especially relate to. Maybe it’s Ken Townsend or Pete Best or Chris O’Dell or Billy Preston or Eric Clapton or…well, you know who it is. And the truth is, they’re all important. They all contributed a sliver to the stained glass mosaic that was beautifully necessary for the whole. Removing one scarlet slice or one cerulean circle would have changed the entire picture. Altered it forever.

 

 “But of all these friends and lovers

There is no one

Compares with you.”

 

That’s right…dead in the center of the complex pattern of triangles, crescents, swirls, and ovals rests the most necessary piece of all: YOU.

 

Without you, the records go un-purchased. Without you, the fanzines fail to sell. Without you, the Beatles T-shirts and sweatshirts and wigs and games and bubblegum cards and clocks sit dusty on their overstocked shelves. No tickets sell. No posters dot walls. Without you, Shea Stadium stands empty. Without you, the theaters never fill. Without you, the books remain closed; the films, unviewed; the artwork, ignored. In all the Beatles’ story, the single most necessary and important ingredient has always been you: the fans. You are the ones who propelled The Beatles to heights they could never have anticipated.

 

In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t host a “Fest for The Beatles.” Ours is a “Fest for Beatles FANS.” Because all along, we’ve realized it: this dream-come-true is all about you. On April 15-17 in Westchester, we will celebrate your crucial role in The Beatles’ success. We’ll smile and raise a glass to your unswerving belief in the lads, your lifelong support. We will fête you with songs, laughter, entertainment, dances – a bit of well-deserved frolic! Because 60 years ago, John Lennon sat in his bedroom and dreamed, and thanks to you, his quiet, whispered vision blossomed into an awesome reality.

 

April 15-17 is your time! It is a weekend set apart to celebrate you, the beloved Beatles Fans. A party is being given in your honor, and “a splendid time is guaranteed for all.” Come to the Fest! You are our special guest.

Jude Southerland Kessler is the author of the John Lennon Series: www.johnlennonseries.com

 

Jude is represented by 910 Public Relations — @910PubRel on Twitter and 910 Public Relations on Facebook.

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Music in Heaven

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The text read: “There is music in heaven tonight.” And that was how I found out about the passing of Sir George Martin.

 

All day in Louisiana, it has rained and rained, and while I think that heaven’s outpouring of tears is so fitting, I do believe in what my friend, Lanea Stagg, texted. There is quite a jam session going on just beyond our reach, just beyond our realm. There is a party for George Martin tonight!

 

George Martin loved music. Classically trained at the Guildhall School of Music in piano and oboe, he also adored complex jazz, folk music, and yes – after a season – rock’n’roll. And Martin’s various and elegant musical tastes came home to roost in the diverse catalog of The Beatles, as he introduced them to harpsichords, horns, and violins. Martin, a confident musician, urged them to take chances. He echoed their need to grow and evolve. And despite many obstacles, he found a way to make their complex recording dreams into concrete realities.

 

But most of all, George Martin listened and understood. When four unknown boys from the rugged North refused a Tin Pan Alley song – a sure hit like “How Do You Do It” – and insisted that recording it would “ruin them in Liverpool,” he listened. When they insisted that they were composers and that they could write a song that was “just as good,” he believed them.

 

When they said that they could rework their limping tunes and make them into winners, he stood beside them, giving them the chance to try. And when no other recording label would represent Brian Epstein’s skinny, ragtag Beatles, George Martin gave them that chance. He was the open door through which they walked and the welcome hearth at which they warmed themselves and felt at home.

 

George Martin was never “a friend of the lads.” They respected him too much to let him see the whole story. At first, they hid their drugs from him. They kept their language clean. They spoke to him with deference, even when they didn’t like his tie. As the years passed, they relaxed quite a bit. But The Beatles always looked up to George Martin as an uncle (in fact, he reminded John of his beloved Uncle Ge’rge), as a father, as a favorite professor in school. And he loved them in a way that he never did any other act or group or collection of recording artists.

 

Between them, there was a bond. It was a bond beyond music…a bond that allowed The Beatles to test limits and try new things, to step over the borders of the known and venture into the murky unknown. It was the bond one feels inside one’s chosen family: the family that is peopled by one’s truest friends.

 

And so The Beatles’ greatest moments were Sir George Martin’s moments. Their happy days were his. Their successes were his successes. And he never missed a chance to let them know. He flew to Paris and celebrated the announcement of their first American No. 1 hit. He flew to America to watch them perform at the Washington D.C. concert in February 1964. He sat in uncounted audiences, stood in the myriad stage wings with Brian, stayed up to ungodly hours in the studio, and endured tardiness, irritability, and frustration, when times were hard.

 

But most of it was pure joy. Most of the ride was one continuous smile. While some managers and producers built empires on the word, “NO,” Sir George Martin lived in the word, “YES.”

 

He always found a way to make things happen. He always found a way to create the quirky and unusual sound the boys (especially John) craved when no one else could.  He found a way to bring their magic to life and to bridge the gap between the possible and impossible. He could do that.

 

George Martin was a “Yes Man.”  No, not a sycophant or a toady, but a “Yes Man” in that he was ever and always ready to try anything and everything. With George at the helm, anything was possible. As Paul has gracefully told us, “Once there was a way…”

 

I wonder who’s performing tonight? Certainly John and George, center stage, smiles wide…and David Bowie, I’m quite sure. Perhaps, in a sidelight, a phenomenal lick from Jimi Hendrix. Some passionate soul from Otis Redding and Bobby Hatfield (who can finally be heard above the screams). And the clear sound of Glenn Frey blending with the velvet voice of Maurice White.

 

And there, in the midst of them all, stands Sir George in his crisp, white shirt – arms folded and head down, listening, mulling, finding a path. “Let’s try it once again,” he’s suggesting.  “And this time, let’s sing the intro instead of playing it on the guitars. Let’s speed it up a bit and…well, let’s see what happens. Shall we?” And so it begins.

 

There is music in heaven tonight, as there always is. But tonight, it has a new producer. My guess?  It’s destined for the Toppermost of the Poppermost. Odds are, He will love it.

 

Jude Southerland Kessler is the author of the John Lennon Series: www.johnlennonseries.com

 

Jude is represented by 910 Public Relations — @910PubRel on Twitter and 910 Public Relations on Facebook.

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I Don’t Know Why You Say “Goodbye”

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I’ve used the photo at left a zillion times — in press releases, in articles, on various websites. It is, in fact, the very shot on the 2016 (and ooooh so cool!) New York Fest for Beatles Fans poster! But the version I submitted to Mark, Carol, and Michelle Lapidos (the one you see above) is the cropped version. And, it doesn’t tell the whole story.

 

About a week ago, I came upon the original photo -– the unedited version taken about 2 1/2 years ago at a party in my hometown. And below is what I saw:

 

 

In the immediate background, just over my shoulder, you can see my mom. She’s right behind me…there all the time. I never knew.

 

This full picture set me to thinking…who is in the background now? Whom am I allowing to fade into the shadows, unnoticed, while I concentrate on things that are (arguably) “more important?” Whom am I overlooking –- and whom are you overlooking -– as we race around madly, smiling for the camera?

 

Most people spend a minimum of eight hours a day at work. For The Beatles, especially in 1964-1966, that was a laughable minimum. They spent a good 10 hours a day filming, interviewing, starring on TV and radio shows, recording, mixing, touring, composing, editing, and taking photographs.

 

And for John –- who also wrote, illustrated, edited, and promoted two books of poetry and prose during that time frame (at night, at home) — the workload was far greater. 12 hours a day, some days. Pressured.

 

And so, Cynthia slipped into the shadows. And so did Mimi. And so did his sisters, Jacqui and Ju. And even little Julian. Just over John’s shoulder, in a dimmer light, they waited. And waited and waited and waited.

 

The questions John had to answer and the questions posed to us all are… “Is it worth the sacrifice?” “Are our priorities in order?” Or (to phrase it quaintly, as Ben Franklin once did), “Are we paying too much for the whistle?”

 

Ever since I saw that unedited photo of my mom and me, I’ve begun noticing other photos: photos tacked to cubicles; photos taped to work stations of nurses, accountants and car salesmen; photos of people we rarely see; photos of people who get one-to-three hours a night, at best, or a brief weekend reunion.

 

“You say ‘Goodbye,’

But I say, ‘Hello!…Hello! Hello!’

I don’t know why you say, ‘Goodbye.’

I say, ‘Hello!’”

 

 

Is that the familiar chorus of our daughters and our sons? Is that the refrain of our aging mums or dads, living alone? Is that the unvoiced appeal of our patient husbands or lonely wives? Is that the theme song of those who wait for us to come home?

 

Had I known –- when that photograph of me was taken -– that only six months later, my mom would be gone, I would have stopped and noticed. I would have spent more time, asked more questions, learned more, shared more, appreciated more. I hardly think I would have said:

 

“You say stop, but I say

‘Go, go, go!!!!’”

 

 

I think I would have changed my tune.

 

We are all incredibly busy. Every day we are challenged to press on. But as we “go, go, go,” precious time is slipping away: Time to notice. Time to care. Time to tell them. Time to share.

 

Is it time to readjust the focus? I think it just might be.

 

Jude Southerland Kessler is the author of the John Lennon Series: www.johnlennonseries.com

 

Jude is represented by 910 Public Relations — @910PubRel on Twitter and 910 Public Relations on Facebook.

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What Will You Bring?

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You can say it a hundred ways:

 

“You get what you give.”

 

“You only get out of it what you put into it.”

 

“Cast your bread on the water, and it will return to you after many days.”

 

“Garbage in, garbage out.”

 

Or:

“And in the end, the love you take

Is equal to the love you make…”

 

In other words, in any venture in life, you’ll take away exactly what you bring to that moment. If you bring joy, you’ll reap joy. If you bring pessimism, you’ll walk away with pessimism. If you bring despair…well, you get it.

 

When my grandmother passed, she returned to each of us the gifts we had given her over the many years of her life. Those grandchildren who had given lovely, caring gifts received loving, caring gifts as rich mementos of her life. Those who had only eked by and given as little as possible reclaimed the tacky, shameful gifts that had been given. We all went to our homes that weekend with clear and obvious reminders of how generous and thoughtful (or stingy and miserly) we’d all been.

 

“And in the end, the love you take

Is equal to the love you make…”

 

The first year that I went to Liverpool, I went as a stuffy, American writer. I had trouble understanding Scouse. I wouldn’t try the local dishes. (Blood pudding? Eeeeek!) I dressed differently, and looked prim, stiff, professor-ish. And though I interviewed and observed, I never cracked a joke or smile. Bottom line: I didn’t fit in. Not a whit. Every minute of that trip, I was on the outside looking in. And though I learned a lot, I didn’t have fun being a stranger in a strange land.

 

The following year, I decided to do things differently. Instead of wearing my camel skirts, blazers, and sensible pumps back to dear old Liddypool, I donned tight leather pants and boots. I walked the streets of Merseyside instead of riding in taxis. I sat in The Grapes and The White Star and Flanagan’s Apple and learned the language and made friends.

 

That second year, strangers asked me for local directions over and over again…because they thought I was a Scouser! I had made the decision to blend in, and voila! I did! And when my nine days Merseyside were over, I reluctantly returned home not only better informed, but very, very happy.

 

“And in the end, the love you take

Is equal to the love you make…”

 

So, what will you bring to The Fest for Beatles Fans April 15-17? An old brown shoe? A sock (darned in the night)? A gently weeping guitar? A little white book? Some Semolina Pilchard? (Or Pilchard Semolina, for those who know the brand.) A 20-carat golden ring? A big brown bag? A portrait of the Queen? What will you bring?

 

Think! Because what you carry along with you to The Fest will determine what you take home. And, if you want to walk (drive, fly, or rollerblade) away from the weekend having had the time of your life, you need to bring a few, crucial items with (you…in Liverpool, you’d leave off the word “you” in that phrase). You’ll need:

 

1)      Suggestions for us about things we can host at The Fest to make you happy. (We love your ideas!!! Send them to us ASAP, please! We are trying to find out what you like and include it in our expanded offerings! And if you’d like to volunteer to lead a class or a hike, we’d love to hear about it…soon). Email Danny@thefest.com with any ideas!

2)      A spirit of FUN!!!

3)      The ability to take part in what you enjoy and to happily pass over the things you do not like! (After all, someone else might enjoy that event and dislike the things you like, right? Give and take.)

4)      A compliment or two for those who are presenting, singing, decorating, hosting, performing, cleaning up, selling tickets, emceeing, and making it all possible.

5)      A spirit of curiosity about new speakers, books, panels, and experiences! A mind ready to seek out, enjoy, and find the best in every situation. A sense of adventure!

 

If you pack these five items along with your bent-back tulips and jeans (except on Sunday), you’ll find yourself smiling, laughing, learning, nodding, singing, and making the most of every moment! You’ll find yourself ready to have a great time and go home happy.

 

What you bring to the party is up to you. I would hate your disappointment to show. Is there nothing for you here? Will you disappear?

 

Or will you go all out, all in, all together now for a unique, exciting, uplifting Beatles weekend of fun? I hope it’s the latter…because the love you take really, really, really IS equal to the love YOU make. Ahahhhhhhhhhh!

 

Jude Southerland Kessler is the author of the John Lennon Series: www.johnlennonseries.com

 

Jude is represented by 910 Public Relations — @910PubRel on Twitter and 910 Public Relations on Facebook.

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Timing is Everything

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Y’ better slow down…

Baby, now y’er movin’ way too fast!

 

It happens every year at this time. The tall, exotic, Japanese Magnolia trees in my neighborhood imitate Mother Superior…and jump the gun.

 

A few warm Louisiana days and nights seduce the silly trees, and right in the middle of January (or at the beginning of February), they explode into mad, delicate, pink blossoms.

“Noooooooo!” I scream at them through the picture window. “Noooo, it’s only February! It’s going to get brutally cold again! Any minute now!”

 

And sure enough, the frost and ice rush in unannounced. And the delicate magnolias are violently frozen, their lovely premature blossoms seared – falling wilted to the ground, a spectacle of poor planning.

 

You see, timing matters.

 

Brian Epstein knew this. He refused to let The Beatles set foot in America until they owned a Number One record. In January 1964, when the boys trekked off to Paris with an excursion to America only a few weeks away, Brian was outside his comfort zone. He was truly gambling. Capitol Records had assured him the Number One slot would be The Beatles’, and he believed the Powers-That-Be. But scheduling the U.S. trip ahead of his target goal was a huge risk. Everything hinged on that one phenomenon. Without the Number One under their caps, Brian knew that The Beatles could flop in America, just as Cliff Richard had done when he “crossed the pond.”

 

Well, you know the familiar story. While in Paris, The Beatles and Brian received that fortuitous phone call from Louise Harrison (yes, it was Louise…read that part of She Loves You, Vol. 3 in The John Lennon Series for detailed documentation) telling them that I Want to Hold Your Hand had just topped the charts in the United States. And in that jubilant instant, the tipping point was reached. Brian’s gamble to prepare for departure had paid off. The moment was right for conquest!

 

Journeying to America before this pinnacle had been grasped might have been disastrous. Waiting prudently for the name recognition the lads needed was vastly important. It mattered.

 

Mark Lapidos, too, can tell you about the importance of waiting, about the need for dotting every “i” and crossing every “t.” When Mark devised the idea of “Beatlefest,” he could have plowed ahead on the surging crest of his youthful enthusiasm. He could have moved, full speed ahead, to make his exciting idea into reality, no matter what!

 

But Mark didn’t. He waited.

 

He summoned up his courage and went to see John Lennon in person, asking for John’s blessing on the concept of the Fest. Mark wisely asked for an endorsement that would make The Fest something of which The Beatles approved and of which they would be proud. And John saw that it was good. And it was. And 40 years later, it’s even better!

 

So what does that say to us? To you and me – owners of sure-fire schemes? It whispers, “Wait.”

 

Don’t jump ahead. Plan. Seek counsel. Ask for opinions. Question everything. Move slowly.

 

If the Japanese Magnolias would follow Epstein’s and Lapidos’s examples, they would be lovely for months during the spring. They would enjoy a season of beauty unequaled by any other vernal tree. Instead, they spring ahead ruthlessly…and time and again, they fail.

 

I don’t know what you’re planning or writing or preparing or creating, but know this: If we would pay attention to detail as we plan, practice, hone, revamp, investigate, seek counsel, and keep working, we would see our dreams come true. The Beatles, Brian Epstein, and Mark Lapidos all knew that this is the way forward. Successes one and all, they could tell you:

 

Ladies and Gentlemen, timing is everything.

Slow down.

 

Jude Southerland Kessler is the author of the John Lennon Series: www.johnlennonseries.com

 

Jude is represented by 910 Public Relations — @910PubRel on Twitter and 910 Public Relations on Facebook.

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